Sunday, April 26, 2026
Big thanks to Netgalley and Macmillan Publishers for
allowing me to read Cynthia Carr’s brilliant biography of Candy Darling,
Dreamer, Icon, Superstar. This book was incredible and moving, thanks to Carr’s
ability to utilize the interviews and experiences of Jeremiah Newton, who was
one of Candy’s closest confidants and friends in NYC in the late 60s and early
70s. I didn’t know much about Candy Darling. What I knew was mostly from
music—especially the Velvet Underground’s excellent and sad song “Candy Says”,
which I still think is one of their most moving songs. I remember hearing it
for the first song and being so struck. It was so different than a lot of their
other songs that I knew, and it also spoke to that feeling of questioning your
identity, being unsure, unhappy, and looking for some kind of validation or
answer to the question of who you are. Hearing that song in my early 20s was
resonant, although I didn’t experience any kind of body dysmorphia, the song
really speaks to that kind of uncertainty most people go through in late
adolescence and early adulthood. Carr’s book Candy Darling explores
Candy’s experience throughout her whole life of struggling with the lack of
acceptance of who she really was. Although the entire book is engaging,
entertaining and moving, reading about Candy’s early life growing up in Long
Island as James Slattery was fascinating and important for others to read,
especially as there are issues in other states about access to gender care,
access to bathrooms and facilities, and movements to prevent equity and fair
treatment for individuals who identify as LGBTQ. It was heartbreaking to see
how the treatment of Candy at home, in her neighborhood and at school really
made her just want to escape. Yet it was clear that she identified as a girl,
and that people frequently assumed she was a woman later in life. I wondered
how different her life would have been had she experienced more acceptance and
acknowledgement of who she really was, both by friends and family. These
experiences pushed her out of school, frequently truant, and into studying beauty.
It was good to see how happy she became as a result of this. It was amazing to
learn how Candy’s experiences, struggles, and challenges remain today for many
people in the Trans community. However, it was also fascinating to see how
identifying as a woman pushed Candy away from the LGB community as well as the
feminist community. Candy’s story is amazing. It was incredible to see how she
eventually created this superstar persona and found work on stage and screen.
Beyond reading about Candy’s relationships, friendships, and adventures in
60s-early 70s NYC, I loved learning more about the Off Off Broadway scene and
the Underground Film movement that Warhol and Paul Morrisey participated in.
While not a huge fan of Warhol’s films, it was interesting to read more about
how Candy became a part of the Superstar scene, and how despite Warhol’s
frequent shedding of Superstars, he kind of stuck with Candy and gave her a
place and opportunities. I found reading Candy’s diary entries to be the most
affecting part of the book since they provide a real insight into her thoughts
and struggles with who she was, what she wanted, and how society and
communities frequently rejected her. Yet, it was amazing to see how she created
this identity and frequently created these stories (or maybe lies) to shape her
status and place in the NY scene in the 1970s. Although the book is primarily
about the short and brilliant life of Candy Darling, it is also about the gay
rights movement, establishing a visible place for Trans people, who still
remain greatly misunderstood, persecuted and unfairly treated, and the Art,
Theater, and Film scenes of 1970s NY. This was a great book, and I’m looking
forward to reading Carr’s other biography of David Wojnarowicz.
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