literature

‘The Edges’ by Angelo Tijssens: A Desperate Search for Affection

In pared-back prose, Angelo Tijssens tells the story of a gay man’s laborious search for a speck of love and affection.

If you have seen the award-winning films Girl or Close by Lukas Dhont, or attended a theatre show by the Ontroerend Goed collective, you have already been acquainted with the storytelling talents of the Fleming Angelo Tijssens (b. 1986). To film (as a co-scriptwriter) and theatre, Tijssens has added a new narrative form to his repertoire: the novel. Although his debut The Edges does hover between a novella and a novel, given its limited scope and focus on just one event and protagonist.

As it is, the story of The Edges is pretty simple. When his mother dies, a man travels back to the place where he grew up in search of an old childhood sweetheart. Their renewed encounter brings back all sorts of memories, of his difficult childhood, with a tyrannical, alcoholic mother, and the gradual discovery of his sexuality.

It is clear there is not a lot of love in this man’s life, not then, and not now. His first encounter with people who are gay is with “the brothers” who live next door, until his mother discovers that they are not brothers at all, but “gays”, one of the many terms of abuse he hears. He understands that it is something dirty, wrong, and the colourful beads he got from the men are thrown back over the hedge, although he does manage to save one from the clutches of his fuming mother. At school, meanwhile, the boy is labelled a social misfit.

His first sexual experiences are just as loveless and bleak as the humiliations he endures at the hands of his mother. In the changing cubicles of the swimming pool, there are hand jobs and blowjobs, with a boy his age and with “the belly”, an older man. He later recognises him as the vendor in a snack bar, although he had already suspected as much from smelling “the belly”.

One time it seemed to go well, there seemed to be some love involved. But that also came to an end quickly because luck, or misfortune, well that’s something that happens on TV, in soap operas. Real life is an exercise in leaving behind. But still our narrator cycles through the pouring rain to this old love, looking for some affection, an ounce of warmth, a speck of love. Or maybe he is looking for what he left there with him.

After their initial discomfort, the two men slowly warm up. The narrator opens up bit by bit, recounting stories he has never told before, because “not talking about scars has become second nature.” Now he lets his scars be caressed, even kissed, and it feels like a safe home.

But memories cloud the reunion. Our narrator has been with countless men, but for his childhood sweetheart it was only that once. After that first time, their breakup had been inevitable. But now there is doubt. The discomfort, the inability to really communicate, to express their feelings for one another, seeps out from the pages. What did they know then? What do they know now? How much have they changed? How have they remained the same? How have their wanderings changed the course of their lives?

It is the style and language of this debut, much more than the story, that make it remarkable. Tijssens’s writing is economical, with short sentences and simple words. Often more is left out than said. Much is left to the reader’s imagination, who can shape their own story around what is given.

Tijssens mentions no names, no city, no time, everything has been stripped away until only the essential remains. We know nothing about outward appearances, except for the fact that the narrator once shaved off his long hair because he no longer wanted to be called “Miss” by unobservant ticket inspectors.

This is pared-back prose of a kind one rarely encounters in Dutch literature, prose that is reminiscent in places of Raymond Carver’s short stories. The show, don’t tell principle is implemented here to the extreme. There is no explanation, no context. As a result, it is also evocative and mysterious, compelling, and moving, sometimes poetic, often very raw.

As a debut, this short novel is promising, and at barely more than a hundred pages (there are no page numbers, which seems a bit pretentious, as if even those would distract) Tijssens perfectly maintains the tension in his bare prose. It will be interesting to see if he can do that with longer texts as well. And if not, we might have an excellent short story writer here. There is always room for more of these.

Angelo Tijssens, The Edges, translated by Michele Hutchison, Daunt, 2025, 104 pages

Read an excerpt of The Edges, made possible with the financial support of Flanders Literature.

• Angelo Tijssens
• debut novel
• First Book
• novel