All the Rage: A Partial Memoir in Two Acts and a Prologue - Brad Fraser doesn't compromise and is all the better for it
04 Jun 2021.

by Drew Rowsome - photos courtesy of Penguin Random House Canada, photo credit: David Hawe

Oh, to have the discipline and stamina of Brad Fraser in his twenties. As he recounts in All the Rage: A Partial Memoir in Two Acts and a Prologue, he held down at least one restaurant job in order to stay financially afloat, did as much theatre work as he could get, and spent most nights indulging in sex and drugs while exploring his sexuality. Yet through it all he rigorously set time aside to write, to practice the craft of writing, to create art. The dedication paid off, not only with the hit plays that cemented his reputation, but also with All the Rage, which turns his life experiences into an alternately harrowing and hilarious literary triumph.

Celebrity memoirs have a predictable trajectory: from humble beginnings through a struggle to succeed, from wide-eyed success to eye-widening excess, from a tragic downfall to rising from the ashes a changed and better person. All the Rage hews to that structure but Fraser, always outspoken and passionate, has much more on his mind. All the Rage is about the growth of an artist. Not just his influences and aspirations, but also the lessons along the way. He describes how he learned to cut anything superfluous out of his writing, to make it economical and tight, how to express complexity with simplicity and duality. It shows in the pages of All the Rage.   
Fraser's plays are often referred to as shocking or transgressive when in reality they are simply honest. As is All the Rage. Over and over Fraser's work is reacted to with homophobia, even when the gay content or characters are simply part of the fabric of the play. All the Rage twines Fraser's artistic life with his sexual and emotional development, distinct but inseparable. What is shocking about the reaction to All the Rage is that gay sex presented in a matter-of-fact realistic manner is still considered shocking. What is truly shocking about All the Rage is that Fraser, after Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love became an international hit, was barely able to pay his bills until he began screenwriting. The true nature of life in the theatre.

The prologue portion of the "partial memoir," recounts Fraser's Canadian gothic childhood and teen years. The prose chronicles a tale of abuse and coming out, all the more powerful and horrible as it is understated, subtly mined to throw light on how writing and gay sex became his salvation. It is vital background information when Act One begins the saga of struggling to make a life in the Canadian, and eventually international, theatre world. Fraser's descriptions and depictions of the people who crossed his path are brutally honest, but there is more praise dished out than condemnation. When someone is eviscerated, it is done subtly and with casual élan. There are only three times in All the Rage when Fraser indulges in flowery metaphors: once as a parody, and the other two just being so uproariously on point funny that no editor would dare to cut them.

Being edited is where I first met Fraser. His columns for fab magazine almost always created debate and/or consternation simply because he dared to state opinions that were often contrary to the current gay political climate. Or, as in his plays, just opinions that were not stated aloud. Any of us lucky enough to have seen the original Toronto production of Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love, can attest to what a revolutionary and shattering work it is. Those of us who saw Martin Yesterday, the last play written about in All the Rage, will not understand how it made Fraser a "pariah" for simply telling the truth. I saw Martin Yesterday twice. The first time was just after it opened and when I raved to Fraser about his work, he queried me for criticism. It should be noted that at that point I was a bartender for a gay night in a popular nightclub, and Fraser was a regular, friendly and a good tipper but he, or his entourage, had no reason to listen to my opinion (other than as the prologue reveals, Fraser did his time in the trenches as well). 

The second time I saw Martin Yesterday was at Fraser's invitation. Just before the run ended. We had a brief discussion afterwards and his changes, detailed in All the Rage, made it an even better production. Though I have to admit that I sorely missed the massive ejaculation that almost stopped the show until the gasps and laughter settled to murmurs. Theatre is a collaborative art and Fraser is not one to compromise. That is something that he paid dearly for despite grudgingly learning that skill. Fortunately memoir writing requires no compromise and All the Rage is blunt, honest and gleefully opinionated. And is all the better for it.

While the theatre gossip and knowledge form the backbone of All the Rage, it is the insight into the horrors of AIDS that are the defiantly beating heart. Where Spanbauer had to resort to allegory and Kramer exploded with fury, Fraser simply describes. For those of us who survived, All the Rage is a painful evocation and testimonial to that galvanizing and terrible time. Fraser captures how the constant fear and anger co-existed with and amplified an inchoate and overwhelming lust and search for love amidst the carnage of a battlefield. And a demand that our lust and love be taken seriously. After the struggle to come out and be grudgingly accepted as part of society, respectable and celibate were not options. For those who don't remember, or weren't alive during those times, All the Rage is a crucial historical document. Fraser was the first to write eloquently on social media about how covid-19 was triggering gay mens' PTSD. What goes around, comes around and Fraser writes about putting one's hand to the wheel and doing the work to survive and help those around you as much as you can.

For once a required reading is a pleasure. Every gay man should delve into All the Rage, but then so should everyone who works in or just attends the theatre (and yes that is a huge overlap no matter what Venn diagram you use).  Perhaps I'm too close to the material, and/or a little too fond of both Fraser's voice and what he stands for, but I also believe that All the Rage is an inspiring self-help inspirational tour de force. Against all odds, Fraser succeeded through sheer determination, self-belief, hard work, conquering his fears and being an unabashed and vocal activist.    My only complaint about All the Rage is that the wait for volume two may be lengthy. I want to read about the making of the musical Outrageous. About why Fraser's work, particularly his new plays, are not being produced in Toronto. His recounting of posing for photographer G Elliott Simpson is timeless. I'm sure that his time as a writer on Queer as Folk is full of anecdotes both gossipy and profound. And even as Fraser slaved creating All the Rage, he found time to pepper his active activist social media with the charming tale of his relationship with Shirl, an elderly lesbian with dementia whose care he has taken on. That alone could be a book or play that would rival Bennett's The Lady in the Van. We need more of the rising from the ashes story. Even though the defiant epilogue, which moved me to tears the first time I read it and just did again the second time while I finish this review, encapsulates the entire book, Fraser's world view, and a Prideful stance is one we should all adopt. Oh, to have the stamina and discipline of Brad Fraser in his post-twenties.