Notes of a Desolate Man by Chu T’ien-wen, book of a lifetime: Au courant reflection about those who loiter on the fringes of society

Chu T'ien-wen has long been one of the best-kept literary secrets - at least in the West (Getty Images)

I was 31, living in Tucson, Arizona, when I happened on a translation of Chu T'ien-wen's Notes of a Desolate Man at a bookstore. I knew nothing about the writer, or the book. Still, I was looking for something I'd never heard of before, and something that came from a different place than the usual contemporary fiction.

When I scanned the opening lines of the novel, I was drawn with inexorable interest to this particular work: "I use my naked body to mark the nadir of all the most morally corrupting behaviors the human race can tolerate."

I bought the book and read it with a shock of recognition. To discover such a deep connection with the novel's gay narrator seemed remarkable at the time, and the understanding that the story was written by a heterosexual Taiwanese woman didn't make the connection any less remarkable. Only later on did I learn that Chu T'ien-wen – acclaimed in her homeland – has long been one of the best-kept literary secrets, at least in the West.

It would be fair to call Notes of a Desolate Man a postmodern novel. The story is non-narrative in a traditional sense, full of allusions, as the narrator, Shao, reflects on the slow death of a friend from Aids, as well as Fellini, Chinese poetry, sex, Levi-Strauss, and, ultimately, himself. This almost stream-of-consciousness recital of popular references and intimate preoccupations gives the reader an unadorned insight into Shao's life as a gay man in Taiwan. Recurring themes of decay and mortality co-mingle with furtive erotic encounters.

There are richer books on the male homosexual experience; however, few of those novels have managed to perfectly capture the ruminations of a subset of gay men in a way that I feel mirrors my own perspective. If it were not for Shao's humorous observations, the story might have run the risk of becoming mired in clichés of homosexual despair.

As it is, though, the novel is an au courant reflection about those who loiter – either by circumstances or choice – on the fringes of society. In that regard, Notes of a Desolate Man isn't so much about the mental fraying of a thoughtful individual, but, rather, a more universal meditation on what it is to struggle with an imposed moral compass that often operates at odds with the animal states of desire that exist in most of us.

Mitch Cullin's novel, 'A Slight Trick of the Mind', is published by Canongate