Author Scott Campbell examines loss in novel and film

Grief is a powerful emotion, whether driven by the loss of life or love. In the newly released novel Aftermath, local gay author Scott Campbell investigates the act of mourning as if composing a bookend to Widower: When Men are Left Alone, a seminal nonfiction study of the grief process that he co-authored over 20 years ago. This time, however, social science survey is replaced by an eloquently woven tale that raises the haunting specter of gay suicide, examines in its richly textured characters the varied ways that the human condition deals (or doesn't) with loss, and exalts the healing, redemptive - but yes, limited - power of art.

In the process, Campbell's tome on the Aftermath of death took on a life of its own: A Year Ago in Winter, a German film adaptation of the book directed by Oscar-winning director Caroline Link, was recently nominated for four honors at the German Film Awards, including Best Picture (it was also nominated for Best Actor and Best Editing, and won for Best Music), and took home several trophies from the Bavarian Film Awards.

The story in Aftermath is based on a story Campbell once heard from his friend, painter Louis Briel. Briel recounted that he had once been commissioned by a grieving mother to paint a portrait of her recently deceased son and (still living) daughter, immortalizing the children together the way they were. But the painter had a problem.

"The way he [Briel] articulated it was that, 'This boy just doesn't want to be in the painting,'" recalls Campbell. "He couldn't make it work."

Neither can gay artist Harry in Aftermath when faced with the same dilemma. Commissioned by wealthy but rigid Marjorie to paint a portrait of her dead son Michael, Harry finds himself unable to capture on canvas the image of a young man now glimpsed only in sad, scattered photographs of days gone by. Harry strikes up an unlikely friendship with Michael's living sister Lindsay, a student actress who affects a front of barbed wit and confrontational sexuality to mask the vulnerability within. Harry and Lindsay bond over a series of portrait sessions, swapping stories about themselves and the loved ones that they lost to violent suicide: Michael had killed himself with a single gunshot to the head in the woods, while Harry is still coping - to the point of self- imposed celibacy - with the loss of his long-term and longer-troubled partner Eric, who ended his life with a dramatic rooftop jump.

Harry becomes increasingly frustrated and anxious over his inability to paint Michael into the portrait alongside Lindsay in a way that feels natural.

Ultimately, he makes the same decision that Briel did with his real subject: to paint the dead son as a framed face on an imaginary wall, an image within an image, a decision that recognizes art can never attempt to bring the dead back to life - it can only, if importantly, function as a comforting reminder of an essence that was.

Campbell recalls how his own art, writing, became a coping mechanism when he first began work on Widower in the 1980s. At the time, he felt inspired to examine the notion of male loss by the news clippings about health problems being experienced by U.S. Sen. Ted Kennedy, who was newly divorced at the time. In retrospect, however, Campbell realized that the true impetus was his own grief over the demise of a five-year relationship. By understanding the mourning process of others, he answered questions about his own.

"It was very healing to learn how these guys got through it," says Campbell of the subjects he interviewed for Widower. He acknowledges that the death of a loved one doesn't always compare to the loss of a relationship, but "there are parallels. It's a matter of scale in some ways."

While Campbell doesn't consider a nonfiction study like Widower to be an "artful" book in the same way as his novel Aftermath, he does see a parallel in the work ethic employed by him self in writing the former and that of his painter protagonist in the latter. "In the book Aftermath, Harry is trying to get the paintings done to pull through [the grief]," says Campbell. "I think work is an important thing. It makes you feel useful, makes you feel productive."

The suicide element of Aftermath was inspired by stories about the tragic prevalence of suicide in the gay community. The loss of Eric is a lingering presence throughout the book, and the character of Michael is strongly suspected to be gay, though Campbell stops short of confirming his sexuality. In doing so, he confronts the reader with the same sad but truthful reality of a bereaved family in the aftermath of suicide: they are left without answers.

"I absolutely did not want to give a pat answer," says Campbell. "I don't think anyone ever knows why a person commits suicide." The ambiguity also left room for reader interpretation, even if it wasn't always an interpretation Campbell had planned. "I did have a reader in Germany who thought Michael killed himself because he was in love with his sister, in a carnal way," says Campbell. "That wasn't something that had occurred to me."

German audiences have been enjoying a faithful adaptation of Aftermath in the form of A Year Ago in Winter. Campbell remembers watching the world premiere of the film at last fall's Toronto International Film Festival.

"I just wanted it to be over," he laughs. "I don't why, I just wanted to get through it!" Though his nerves may have gotten the better of him initially, Campbell was ultimately enthusiastic with how the final product turned out. "She did a fine job," he says of director Link. "She even made a few changes I wish I had thought of myself. It was pretty fascinating to have someone take hold of your characters."

"But there were other places where they lifted scenes right out of the novel," he adds. "Overall, it was very loyal."

Loyalty to emotion, though, is what is truly paramount in Aftermath.

Campbell recalls when he met the mother of the real life victim who inspired his story. At the time of writing, Campbell didn't know that her son actually had committed suicide; he thought that was his own plot invention. But when he later found out, he also discovered that he took the right approach in his treatment of it.

"She [the mother] asked me, 'Why did he do it?'" remembers Campbell. "[She asked], 'In your story, do you ever find out why he did it?'"

"I said no. She nodded and closed her eyes, like that was the right answer."

Scott Campbell's novel Aftermath is available now from Grassroots Press. For more information on the author, visit scottcampbellbooks.com.