‘Us’ Against ‘Them’:
Male Queer Identities in Vidal’s The City and the Pillar,
Isherwood’s A Single Man, and Hollinghurst’s The
Swimming-Pool Library
Student name / number: Gert Jan Roskammer (S2689871) Supervisor: Dr I. (Irene) Visser
Date of completion: 25/05/2018 Word count: 15,876
Master’s Thesis Literary Studies. Track: Writing, Editing and Mediating. University of Groningen.
Contents
Abstract 2
Introduction 3
Chapter One: The City and the Pillar, or How He Learned to Stop Worrying and Love His ‘Twin’ 10 Chapter Two: The ‘Dual’ Identity of A Single Man 22 Chapter Three: Belonging, Butts, and Brutes in The Swimming-Pool Library 33
Conclusion 44
Works Cited 52
Appendix 58
Summaries 58
The City and the Pillar (1948, Gore Vidal) 58
A Single Man (1964, Christopher Isherwood) 59
Abstract
This thesis explores the literary representation of American and British male queer protagonists in their response to society and their connections to the queer communities of their times. The thesis adds to the discourse on the representation of queer identities during sociopolitical turmoil. The selected novels are Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948, original edition), Christopher Isherwood’s A Single Man (1964), and Alan Hollinghurst’s
The Swimming-Pool Library (1988). The protagonists are thus situated in eras with
different social reflections on queer sexuality. The selected novels provide a view into previous generations’ social responses to sexual divergence. Literature is useful when researching queer identity, as it can function as a medium to reveal the unspoken. I analyse passages of the novels with the help of socio-historical background information, as well as concepts prevalent in queer theory and social psychology, such as compulsory heterosexuality and social identity theory. My main finding is that queer identities in these three novels are influenced by the protagonists’ places in mainstream society. There is a development from the impossibility of queer sexuality to a socially appropriated place for queer sexuality: social impositions of gender, social coercion towards heterosexuality, and an eventual refuge to queer spaces are important in determining the protagonists’ association with or dissociation from to queer communities in the novels. This development serves as an accurate reflection of the social position of queer sexuality in the novels’ timeframes, specifically post-Second World War, the post-McCarthy 1960s, and post-sexual revolution.
Introduction
Society has the power to shape its participants; individuals respond not in a vacuum but through engagement with their surroundings. This dynamic between individuals and society is a major theme when queerness is considered, as the expression of sexuality has historically been implicated with social commentary. In this age of social media and the growing influence of generations Y and Z, past struggles related to sexual legality can seem long gone. Recently, laws protecting sexual freedom have emerged in the western world. When one is raised in a society condoning sexuality beyond heteronormativity, a risk of forgetting past generations’ strife emerges. It is important to remember that the process of liberalisation in terms of sexuality is quite recent. The legality of sexuality was still contested in both the United States and the United Kingdom as late as the early twenty-first century. Whilst England and Wales had legalised sodomy1 by 1967, its application problematising the division between the private and public sphere, as well as the unequal age of consent, would not be resolved until the year 2000 (Waites 546, 558). The great leap between the U.S. Supreme Court decision of 2003 to legalise sodomy nationwide and its decision to remove sexual boundaries in marriage nationwide in 2015 only spanned twelve years (United States’ Supreme Court, Lawrence; United States’ Supreme Court, Obergefell). The recency of these events serves as a reason to further explore the divide between previous generations and their experiences of queer sexuality and identity.
1 A sodomy law in this application often refers to laws criminalising same-sex intercourse between men. The Sexual Offences Act 1967 specifically decriminalises same-sex sexual acts between men (‘Sexual Offences Act 1967’). The Supreme Court decision following Lawrence v. Texas (2003) was specifically decided in relation to Texan law criminalising consensual same-sex sexual acts between men, but decriminalisation was subsequently applied to all sexes (United States’ Supreme Court,
This thesis will investigate the presence of queer identity in literature during eras in which sexuality was socially contested. Literature can provide an outlet for unspoken ideas on behalf of queer authors in times of social turmoil. As it is passed down from the past in a language interpretable for us today, it provides a community a voice that otherwise would not have been preserved. Especially in terms of the three novels that I chose for this thesis, renegotiation of queer sexuality in the social sphere is inherent. I selected three novels from the 1948 to 1988 timeframe: Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948)2, Christopher Isherwood’s A Single Man (1964), and Alan Hollinghurst’s The Swimming-Pool Library (1988). All novels feature the perspectives of male queer characters. They are connected in their attraction to the same sex, their privileged status in terms of belonging to the upper-middle to upper class, and their belonging to the white majority in their communities. The characters are distinguished mostly through occupational divergence, from unemployed by choice in Hollinghurst’s Will Beckwith through tennis teacher in Vidal’s Jim Willard to university teacher in Isherwood’s George. A significant divergence between characters is their age; both Jim and George belong to the WWII generation, whilst Will was born during the final years of the baby boomer cohort. Their experiences as part of their respective generations are important to consider, as their world views in terms of sexuality differ greatly based on their respective societies.
The protagonists in the three novels all partake in societies displaying some form of aversion to homosexuality, ranging from outright illegality and moral panic to ideological divergence. The 1948 to 1988 timeframe is a period in which major social and legal upheavals took place for the queer subject and individual. Following the Kinsey Reports of 1948, a collection of findings leading to the assumption of the bisexuality of the average
2 Unlike most scholarly works, this thesis uses the original 1948 edition of The City and the Pillar in order to reflect more accurately on the social context of the late 1940s. The revised edition from 1965 counts as a remediation, making it less applicable with regards to the current research question.
American man, sexuality became subject to social debate in the western world (Bronski 684). During the 1950s the pathologisation of homosexuality was influenced by its legal and moral status, and further problematised the concept of homosexuality for mainstream society (Fejes 15). After the emergence of laws removing the ban on sodomy, sexual liberation seemed to gradually boost the acceptance of non-standard sexualities. However, after the advent of AIDS as an initially-promoted ‘gay’ disease, opinions on the destructive ‘gay lifestyle’ seemed to reverse the acceptance of homosexuality as a viable sexual alternative (Clements and Field 529). The three novels selected for analysis demonstrate their engagement with these social impulses, providing a reflection of the societies producing the works.
The novels are positioned in the Anglophone western world. The current thesis turns its attention to the United States and the United Kingdom for several reasons. Documentation of an emerging queer community throughout the twentieth century in these countries is considerable, providing a clear socio-historical view on sexuality for both nations. It is furthermore possible to compare and contrast novels from these nations due to their similar social and political positions on homosexuality during the timeframe. Both sides of the Atlantic were heavily influenced by the revelations on sexuality brought forward by Kinsey in the late 1940s, as well as the American Psychological Associations’ medicalisation of homosexuality from the 1950s to the early 1970s (Fejes 15). Furthermore, both countries are linked in their politically conservative alliance during the 1980s, which led to similar stances when considering the social position of homosexuality (Bristow, ‘Being Gay’, 65; Corber, ‘Sentimentalizing’, 139). Also, in both countries widespread legalisation of ‘sodomy’ (see note 1) did not become a reality for major parts of the nations until the late 1960s to early 1980s (Kane 214; Waites 558).
Beyond social and political significance, the novels are linked through their authors. Gore Vidal and Christopher Isherwood were essentially peers, keeping correspondence, with
the latter dedicating A Single Man to Vidal (Isherwood 5; Vidal, ‘Art, Sex’). Alan Hollinghurst in his turn represents the next generation of queer authors, having reviewed Vidal and referenced Isherwood in his poetry before moving into publishing prose (Hollinghurst, ‘Imperial Dope’). Whilst both Vidal and Isherwood wrote on queer subjects, the former was the first of the two to mention it openly in his prose. Introducing himself as a promising author in his late adolescence, Vidal chose to break the taboo on homosexuality with The City and the Pillar. It became a bestseller in spite of its poor critical reception (Jemia 81). The novel came at some cost, as Vidal was blacklisted in several American media outlets including The New York Times after its publication (McGrath). Isherwood involved himself in openly queer prose with A Single Man, which similarly opened to poor reception, leaving both works without contemporary accolades (Olson 191). In contrast, Hollinghurst was awarded the Somerset Maugham Award in 1989 for The Swimming-Pool Library (‘Previous Winners’). As a general literature award, the acceptance of the novel showcases an increased viability of queer themes in literature, especially considering its graphic nature. Whilst queer novels were scholarly ignored until the 1970s, the works of authors such as Vidal and Isherwood have been influential in queer studies since (Stevens 626). In this thesis, I set out to continue the tradition of these novels’ rediscovery and reevaluation.
The central research question to this thesis is: ‘How does queer identity evolve in terms of representation of mainstream society and the queer community in Vidal’s The City
and the Pillar, Isherwood’s A Single Man, and Hollinghurst’s The Swimming-Pool Library?’
In my analysis of the three novels, I found that the representation of mainstream society through a queer lens moved according to socio-historical possibilities and/or impossibilities. This means that the protagonists’ queer identities move from not being recognised, to being outcast, to receiving an appropriated place in society, which parallels socio-historical developments. Queer individuals are seen to antagonise mainstream society and women, after which community becomes a form of refuge, either allowing or disallowing queer
sexuality. The idea of community and its place as part of identity is influenced by socio-historical developments alike from initial problematisation by gender stereotypes through post-McCarthy abandon to full immersion based on the single characteristic of sexual preference.
In order to reach to these conclusions, I primarily reflect on the novels through their socio-historical moment, which means that every novel is accompanied with a short overview of the legal and social implications of queer sexuality in the era and place of publishing. Furthermore, in my readings I will incorporate ideas present in queer theory and the field of social psychology. In terms of queer theory, I occasionally use the concept of compulsory heterosexuality in order to reflect on the social implications of masculinity and sexuality. Furthermore, in order to establish the dynamics of queer identity in the thesis, social identity theory and self-categorisation theory prove crucial. With their redefinitions of identity as part of a continuum between group identities and idiosyncratic personal identities, I expected that through the progress of queer visibility and advances in queer legality identities will be formed accordingly. These theories and their applicability will be explained below.
Compulsory heterosexuality is a term introduced by Adrienne Rich. According to Rich, mainstream society is affected by the pure necessity of heterosexuality as part of its social fibre (35). The lesbian existence is a term then used to represent women’s rejection of patriarchal demands, including the experience of marriage as a means to retain a place within a chartered society (Rich 55). According to Rich, any deviation from the patriarchal pattern is subsequently punished (35). The concept of compulsory heterosexuality originally only pertained to women. However, scholars have since noted that social coercion also pertains to men, considering patriarchy in Rich’s concept allows only one sexual orientation. Homosexual men have been explicitly noted in further research, considering patriarchal pressure to perform according to gender stereotypes, both in behaviour and through
appropriated sexuality, rendering homosexuality impossible (Epstein et al. 6). It is expected that due to social pressures, the protagonists in the novels will be subjected to the demand of a social heterosexual truth. A shift in the application of compulsory heterosexuality is one of the major interests for determining the possibility of queer identities.
Social identity theory is a theory of performative group membership and its effects on the individual. The theory explains that when classifying individuals into groups, it is expected that perceived group characteristics outweigh idiosyncratic differences (Turner and Reynolds 402). An important aspect is the individual’s own power over this classification through ‘social identification’, a conscious understanding of belonging to the group (Ellemers and Haslam 382). Considering the self to be part of a group then leads to affirmative behaviour based on the group’s key characteristics. It is essential for the individual to have a conscious affiliation to the group in order for it to become part of the individual’s identity (Ellemers and Haslam 382). Individuals may use strategies in order to either include or exclude themselves from certain groups. Especially important to this thesis is individual mobility, which represents the malleability of the individual within groups, letting individuals decide to move from one group to another (Ellemers and Haslam 382). In the novels, this theory is primarily important to determine the role of community as part of identity.
Closely related to social identity is self-categorisation theory. The theory’s prominent idea is that an individual can behaviourally decide, as part of a continuum, to what social category they belong at all times(Turner and Reynolds 402). Accordingly, the individual can behave according to different levels of relations(Turner and Reynolds 403). The distinction between personal identity and group identity becomes important in determining the response from the individual in social context. Depending on context, the individual may emphasise or deemphasise the importance of social belonging. This shift especially occurs in terms of intra- and intergroup conflict, considering within groups there may be a
heightened awareness of idiosyncrasies, when from a more distant perspective idiosyncrasies become less overt (Turner and Reynolds 409). For this thesis, self-categorisation theory is necessary, as it enlightens the possible fluctuations in group affiliation.
In order to lead to the conclusions based on my research question, the upcoming chapters will each sketch the socio-historical frame of one of the novels, followed by an analysis of the development and presence of the protagonist’s queer identity in the novel. I chose to analyse the novels primarily according to their original content structure, moving from start to finish due to the novels’ character developments. The compare-and-contrast of these readings is to follow in the conclusion.
Chapter One: The City and the Pillar, or How He Learned to Stop Worrying
and Love His ‘Twin’
The City and the Pillar can be considered a product of the cultural sphere of the twenty years
prior to its writing. After the comparative openness of the 1920s in terms of cultural distribution on behalf of queer artists and the creation of queer spaces in cities, a ‘systematic backlash against public cultures of queerness’ was instigated during the 1930s (McRuer 221). Subsequently, the social and creative visibility of the American queer demographic was halted. As a result of the notion that homosexuality ‘undermined masculinity and virility’ (Harker 192), a crackdown on sexuality played out in American discourse and law. Homosexuality was regarded as having no ‘sensibility’, and the idea that homosexuality could have sensibility was seen as a social menace (Harker 192). Sexual ‘deviancy' would become more prominent during the Second World War as a result of strict gender segregation in the workplace. After the war, the closet reemerged through the social enforcement of the American nuclear family (McRuer 222).
With the nuclear family ideal came clear-cut definitions of performative masculinity and femininity. Hegemonic masculinity, and its related compulsory homosexuality, was one of the primary occupations in American society between the Great Depression and the McCarthyite 1950s (Bronski 680; Jemia 83). The policing of gender, as assigned to sex, was of national importance. Created in 1936 and spread through the United States school system until the 1960s, Lewis Terman and Catherine Cox Miles’ M-F test was used in order to examine whether or not gendered behaviour and intelligence was aligned according to the corresponding sex (Kimmel 138; Pleck et al. 13). Sex-gender alignment was said to predict whether homosexuality was a potential concern; failure to align gender performance with biological sex increased the child’s risk of ‘becoming’ homosexual (Kimmel 135). Queer sexuality was thus explained according to the inversion of gendered ‘intelligence’ (Kimmel
137; Sönser Breen 3). Inversion was thought to be remedied through the promotion of gender-specific knowledge and behaviour (Kimmel 150).
The source of sexual inversion was thought to be social, as well as socially remedied. From the late 1930s and to the 1960s homosexuality was thought to be temporary (Tully 29). The prevalent idea was that it was best to instigate the process of gender affirmation as soon as possible, as inversion was thought possible to avert during childhood. The nuclear family, popularised during the late 1940s, became responsible for setting forth a successfully gendered society (Kimmel 135). The family as a base unit was responsible for promoting proper sexual roles through the example of the father and the mother. The parent held the responsibility to assert their masculinity or femininity as an example for their offspring (Kimmel 160). Mainstream society laid the blame of the feminisation of the son on overprotected mothers and the pervasiveness of women in the child’s environment, namely the home and the educational system (Kimmel 139).
In American society, masculinity became defined both through the inner self and the external self, through the active promotion of behaviour and physique (Kimmel 140). The modern glorification of the muscular body was instigated during the late nineteenth century and continued into the 1940s as a result of the ‘pansy craze’ of the 1930s (Kimmel 135; Bronski 680). In a world of strict gender binaries, asserting a perfected masculinity became all-encompassing and anxiety-driven. Without a gradient between the sexes in terms of behaviour and appearance, the external self could showcase a man’s successfully kept masculinity. Role models were created in terms of proper behaviour and aesthetic. An example noted by Michael Kimmel is Superman, who showcases in abundance the success of masculinity, as well as its undesirable failures through his stark contrast with Clark Kent (140). Failure to conform to masculinity as a man marked the individual, harvesting self-hatred in feminine men, as well as promoting compensation strategies (Kimmel 160).
The modern concept of homosexuality was born through the creation of an undesirable otherness. Leaving no space for a masculinity compatible with queer sexuality through the creation of an oppositional M-F scale, queer individuals were designated to the outer layers of society; the limits of the family ‘pushed men into rigid roles’ (McRuer 223). As the relative freedom of wartime sexuality was traded in for an inflexible postwar social sphere, queer individuals were forced into hiding, and dissociated from the homosocial environment prevalent during the war (McRuer 222). A near half-decade of war however lead individuals to seek to recreate the queer social experience, moving them to join in the discourse on sexuality. Literature started to voice the concept of the ‘new homosexual’, contributing to the gradual demand for the extension of sexual normalcy (Tully 31). Postwar queer literature questioned the legitimacy of an all-encompassing queer identity as socially imposed through the clear contrast of normative and deviant behaviour. They also revealed the persisting same-sex environments that had been structurally built in American cities (Aldrich 1722).
The year 1948 saw the mainstream release of Vidal’s The City and the Pillar and Alfred Kinsey’s Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, both works proving to be popular and provocative (Bronski 684). Whilst both works represent different fractions of the field of literature, Vidal and Kinsey both succeeded in introducing the ‘new homosexual’, a man practically identical to the American ideal, to American debate (Leff 3; Tully 31). Kinsey introduced the Kinsey scale, which places sexuality on a spectrum and releases it from absolute extremes (Bronski 684; Thomas 603). According to his findings, Kinsey projected a greater occurrence of homosexual acts within society than had previously been envisioned. The immediate consequence was retaliation towards Kinsey's findings, as the Kinsey scale was a fundamental rejection of common assumptions about American social fabric (Bronski 684). Kinsey’s reports would also support the upcoming retaliation of the queer ‘deviant minority’ through its direct confrontation with the prevailing idea of normalcy (McRuer
223). The City and the Pillar contributes to the exposure of homosexuality in 1948 by further providing a voice against the status quo.
The City and the Pillar tracks the social shift from pre-WWII to post-WWII ideas of sexuality through the eyes of Jim Willard, its protagonist. The novel showcases the need to reconceptualise homosexuality after having experienced its social impossibility in the 1940s. The social impossibility of queer sexuality leads to suppression according to compulsory heterosexuality, introducing the hope to ‘achieve’ heterosexual normalcy. The queer community in the novel is associated with inherent femininity, resulting in the need to reevaluate queer sexuality and gender before participation is afforded. As conversion to heterosexuality is proven impossible, and affordances within the community are created, Jim’s identity is increasingly justified. The social shift in the promotion of the nuclear family following post-WWII is eventually shown to problematise the relationship of queer individual to chartered society.
Queer sexuality and the consummation of same-sex sexual desire in The City and the
Pillar is dissociated from identity building at first. Whilst initially marked with naturalness,
queer sexuality is marked by its social impossibility, requiring Jim to appropriate it in fantasy. In the first queer scene of the novel, Jim’s first sexual experience with his eventual long-term obsession Bob functions as a revelation of queer sexuality, which is yet to be internalised in terms of identity: ‘They clung together a moment wrestling. Jim was suddenly conscious of Bob’s body […] In the back of his mind half-forgotten dreams began to come alive…’ (47). Jim is revealed to have had same-sex sexual fantasies, yet by having disregarded these fantasies has not placed sexuality as part of his identity, as he is yet to consciously affiliate to being queer. In dreams Jim’s desires remain unscrutinised by both society and himself. Same-sex affection is given a natural connotation, which becomes increasingly applicable through the act of wrestling, athletic in nature and socially masculine. Wrestling does not become a queer act until Jim associates it in terms of sexual attraction. When Jim
moves towards sexualisation, queer sexual activity is briefly described as natural, whilst pertaining only to fantasy: ‘[I]t was as if he had done this thing many times before: in dream countries where things happened like this, naturally without words or withdrawal’ (47). Queer acts happen in ‘dream countries’, necessarily invoking its impossibility in Jim’s social surroundings. Same-sex sexual activity is subsequently placed in the realms of fantasy. Jim and Bob proceed to consummate their romance ‘not thinking of the outer world’, entering ‘[a] world of sensation’ (48), further affirming a brief suspension of reality.
Contemporary beliefs opposing homosexuality as a childhood phase surface after Bob and Jim’s sexual encounter, resulting in public intervention. Bob becomes a spokesperson for the antagonistic social views towards queer sexuality in the post-Depression era. In Bob’s understanding, queer sexuality is illegitimate and inherently immature. Bob’s first words after their sexual encounter are ‘[t]his is a hell of a mess’ (48), followed by ‘[y]ou know, […] that was awful kid stuff we did’ (49). Robert J. Corber notes that kid stuff indicates that Bob did not consider it applicable to ‘the “real” thing’, heterosexual intercourse (‘Gore Vidal’, 154). Kid stuff also signals the inappropriateness of their sexual conduct in their move towards late adolescence. Bob is of school leaving age, whilst Jim is a year his junior, placing them in their mid-teens. Homosexuality was considered a childhood phase that required intervention during the late 1930s (Kimmel 135). Becoming too old to seriously pursue homosexuality, Bob thus introduces the prevailing social ideology of compulsory heterosexuality: ‘Well, guys aren’t supposed to do that with each other. It’s not natural’ (49). As adulthood is nearing, queer sexuality becomes illegitimate and requires intervention. Having experienced a natural homosexuality that was previously valid in fantasy, Jim is confronted with the direct elimination of it in reality. However, after their exchange Bob and Jim continue to act out of sexual attraction: ‘…excited again, they embraced on the blanket’ (49). Their continued affection post-intervention is only afforded by their continued reliance on placing themselves in a dream world. Legitimacy is afforded by Bob and Jim’s moving
in-and-out of fantasy, a ‘conscious dream’ (50), reminding again that their behaviour is only possible outside of reality, free from scrutiny.
The social application of compulsory heterosexuality requires the denial of the legitimacy of queer sexuality in both reality and fantasy, and the introduction of bisexuality into the narrative. Jim’s denial of queer legitimacy is present in the annulment of his experience with Bob as legitimate. When asked about his sex life by his colleague Collins, Jim professes his discomfort at being asked whether he has ‘got a girl’ in Seattle (64). Jim subsequently claims himself a virgin. Not being able to openly discuss his sexual act with Bob showcases the act’s social illegitimacy, only claiming virginity to pertain to heterosexuality. Keeping face, Jim agrees to meeting with a female prostitute, hoping to convert to heterosexuality in order to affirm sexual normalcy in accordance to compulsory heterosexuality. The denial of queer sexuality also influences his previously allowed sexual fantasies, as Jim starts to scrutinise his ‘dream world’ from a social perspective; this leads him to accept relations with the opposite sex, introducing bisexuality. Bisexuality is introduced to allow sexual currency in Jim’s reality, whilst confining his forbidden fantasies to a dream world: ‘He dreamed sometimes of women; not often but occasionally: most of his dreams, however, were of Bob and this was disturbing when he thought about it’ (65). Bob becomes a figure bound to Jim’s dream world, only allowed a place in his subconscious due to Jim’s delight that ‘[e]xcept in certain dreams Bob was forgotten’ (65). Queer sexuality is increasingly banished both publicly and privately in accordance with social expectations.
The conversion narrative towards heterosexuality is however troubled by the introduction of the impossibility of sexual attraction as a choice, moving Jim towards reevaluating his queer sexual experience. In his attempt to ‘normalise’ to heterosexuality, Jim forces affection towards the opposite sex, which has him discover he is not sexually aroused by women. Subjected to Collins’ scrutiny, Jim agrees to have sexual intercourse with Anne, a prostitute, in order to comply to social norm: ‘he wanted to be excited by her. It was
no use, though. He would get drunk first and then it would be easy’ (73). Jim is confronted with his lack of sexual interest with women outside of his dream world. Failure to comply indicates that as much as Jim wants to be sexually attracted to women, this taste cannot be influenced. Against popular beliefs that inversion can be remedied, the novel is seen to consider conversion to heterosexuality impossible in spite of social coercion. Jim’s failure leads him to compare the situation with his sexual experience with Bob: ‘He thought of Bob; […] he knew it was not like this; it was not dirty like this; it was not unnatural like this’ (81). To Jim, naturalness is found in the realms of sexual deviation. Whilst continuing to struggle with the potential of ‘natural’ same-sex relations, his failure is followed by his first affiliation to queerness: ‘He didn’t care now if he was different from other people’ (81). Having established himself as an ‘other’, Jim is seen to adopt his non-conformism as part of his identity, allowing him to start his exploration of same-sex relations outside of the confines of fantasy.
The establishment of a queer identity is however halted by the outgroup view of the queer community as inherently effeminate, which leads group affiliation to be perceived as an annulment of masculinity. Jim is shown to agree with a strict sex-gender alignment, which has consequences for his relations to the queer community. Attracting the interest of Hollywood as a tennis trainer, asserting his masculinity in both physique and interest, Jim meets Ronald Shaw, a masculine, closeted actor who is part of the ‘gay underworld’. As he enters this community, he finds himself ‘disturbed that these people should be effeminate and unattractive, should act like women and not like men’ (100). As initially part of the outgroup, he only views the stereotype and cannot consider participation as he assumes effeminacy is a key characteristic to the group (Summers 67; Turner and Reynolds 409). This leads to isolationism: ‘Jim decided that he was unique’ (100). Unaware of the idiosyncrasies present in the community, Jim dissociates himself by claiming not to be ‘one of them’ (138). Masculinity is of prime importance to Jim’s understanding of sexuality, and
his previous sexual experience with Bob complies with this through Bob’s overt masculine physique and behaviour. Femininity subsequently problematises his perception of the community, making it impossible to belong.
Queer sexuality subsequently is fitted to incorporate masculinity, which is achieved through the creation of a new group outside of the queer community, and the reconceptualisation of sexual intercourse. In The City and the Pillar, masculinity is retained firstly through Jim’s rejection to conform to the queer community, preferring to affiliate to masculine characters. Jim shuns the effeminate stereotype he has encountered in the community, choosing instead to affiliate with Shaw and Sullivan, masculine characters that share his ideology of behavioural sex-gender alignment. According to Corber, Jim is then allowed to participate in the queer community through his affiliation with masculine peers who similarly participate in spite of their reservations to the feminine crowd (‘Gore Vidal’, 147). It however does not lead to incorporation of queerness into identity, as ‘he tells himself that he must not be gay, despite his exclusive attraction to other men’ (Corber, ‘Gore Vidal’, 147). Incorporating masculinity into queer sexuality also influences Jim’s ideas of performance in sexual intercourse, introducing the concept of ‘twinning’. Sexually, the ability to perform in a masculine role is essential, in spite of the necessity of both members to comply to perfected masculinity. Jim prides in performing in the role of the ‘aggressor’ with Shaw (101), stressing the necessity to perform in an active, masculine manner. For a man to be dominated, sexual intercourse becomes appropriated to masculinity through Jim’s concept of twinning. Twinning represents the love of the self-image through intercourse with another masculine individual. The concept of romantic love between men remains impossible under this concept, which is evident in his relationships with Shaw and Sullivan (Summers 69). In accordance with twinning, queer sexuality and expression is reinterpreted as an extension of homosociality, adding a sexual impulse to the appreciation of ‘real’ men amongst one another.
However, establishing an idiosyncratic group based on masculine queer sexuality does not lead to a mainstream reconsideration of the queer community and its participants, which reintroduces the conversion narrative. The outgroup view of the queer community pertains to sexual deviancy as being its single defining aspect, which problematises Jim’s concept of group affiliation. In accordance, Maria, a heterosexual woman who befriends Sullivan, asks Jim his opinion on ‘being different’ (155). Jim reveals a discomfort to being marked as a homosexual, stemming from his dissociation with the effeminate stereotype. Jim interprets Maria’s question as a form of demasculinisation through association with the queer community at large: ‘…she had started to push back a veil, started to unmask him’ (155). Being different instantly places Jim outside of the mainstream facade that he tries to uphold. The conversion narrative is reintroduced as a response to Jim’s discomfort, which is further amplified by Sullivan’s support. Exposed to the outgroup view that he belongs to the queer community, Jim emasculates himself through fantasies of heterosexual rape in order to affirm his masculinity. Sponsored by Sullivan, this leads Jim to assume an affair with Maria in hopes of achieving normalcy and finally comply with compulsory heterosexuality. Sullivan sponsors Jim, as he believes Jim hardly deviates from a ‘complete’ masculinity, associating queer sexuality with an inherent femininity.
As the queer community returns to the narrative and becomes more prevalent, the concept of masculinity becomes more applicable through closer inspection of the queer community, which supports group affiliation, especially in terms of hierarchy. Jim immerses himself in the underground gay scene of New York, where he converses with effeminate members of the community, who reveal Jim’s privileged place in group hierarchy. They describe Jim as ‘Teutonic’, meaning that Jim fits within the normal confines of masculinity on a social scale, which is emphasised especially in contrast to the effeminate men themselves. Jim is named ‘natural’ and ‘liv[ing] by his body’ (235). The introduction of idiosyncrasies within the community becomes essential to Jim in terms of group affiliation;
his sexual expression is validated within the group and not annulled. In fact, perfected masculinity as an idiosyncrasy within the group is glorified, revealing their belief in sex-gender alignment as appropriate. A hierarchy amongst queer men is introduced through the community’s appraisal of the masculine, Teutonic man: ‘I’m sure he is natural while we’re perverse and inverted: too far from the natural animal…’ (235). The vocabulary of mainstream society in belittling effeminate men has become the vocabulary of the queer community and becomes grounds for self-loathing. Perfected masculinity is in turn part of a privileged segment of the community, being given specific slang terms carrying positive connotations: ‘A man who could not be had, who was normal was called a “jam”’ (246). A new vocabulary emerges that justifies the existence of masculine queerness, allowing Jim his position within the queer community.
The conversion narrative ends through the continuing impossibility of heterosexuality as a choice, which is justified in The City and the Pillar by the contemporary idea of age-related sexual fixity, and leads to the affirmation of queer sexuality. In a twist supporting the impossibility of conversion to heterosexuality in adulthood, Jim is unable to commit to a sexual relationship with Maria. Jim concludes after his relationship with Maria that he is not likely to convert to heterosexuality as a result of sexual fixity. Jim believes it may be ‘too late for either [Sullivan or him] to change’ (272). This idea is akin to the mainstream belief in the post-Depression era that once a certain age was reached homosexuality was no longer to be averted (Fejes 16). Instead of claiming himself failed, Jim starts to affirm his queer identity, which is helped by the ideology of fixity and his newly attained place in the community. As his relationship with Maria was to emasculate him into a proper sex-gender paradigm, its failure requires an acceptance to being ‘different’. Jim’s failure to sexually commit to Maria provides Jim with a cornerstone towards the acceptance of himself as belonging to the queer spectrum: ‘“Why should I be rescued?” asked Jim, suddenly accepting himself as a member of the submerged world of the homosexual’ (271).
Whilst Corber notes this as an attempt to still dissociate from feminine members of the queer community in spite of affiliation with it as a whole (‘Gore Vidal’, 148), I claim the opposite. As Jim is allowed to position himself in the community in spite of his idiosyncrasies, he finds himself directly affiliating with the community as a whole. Opening himself up to a relative fixedness of sexual preference and being allowed a place in the community, he proceeds to mention the possibility of loving men, after having rejected the concept of same-sex love throughout the novel.
Finally, the incorporation of queer sexuality becomes problematic when reintroduced to mainstream society, creating the desire of overt deviance in the face of the nuclear family as a means of self-categorisation. Reintroduction to mainstream society in the form of rural Virginia introduces Jim to ideals that are now inapplicable through his new group identity. Virginia is shaping itself according to the nuclear family ideology, a concept which is eventually used to eradicate queer sexuality (McRuer 222). Jim notices the calculated life associated to the nuclear family and considers it inapplicable to his own, leading him to consider his individual mobility: ‘He could never make the slightest contact with these people and that made him sad, for they were, after all, a part of his life, a part that was growing smaller’ (287). Jim sees little common ground with his hometown community, having incorporated ideologies that are not shared between the groups. Jim comes to understand that, having been outside of the nuclear family’s sphere, he is unable to return to it, placing himself outside of the community. This social disconnect leads Jim to fantasise about exposing himself and his newly acquired identity as part of the queer community in order to further establish his independence from the nuclear family: ‘He wanted to come out and tell them what he was and defy them’ (287). Jim feels the necessity of ‘being’ queer in the face of mainstream society, which solidifies his position as a member of the queer community through conscious self-categorisation. Jim shuns behaving according to the status quo, emphasising his affiliation to the queer community. Whilst his sexuality remains
unspoken, Jim’s departure from his hometown signifies the finalisation of migration from community to community.
In The City and the Pillar, queer identity building is detailed from start to finish. As a result of queer impossibility in the 1940s, Jim suppresses his queer sexuality and hopes to convert to heterosexuality. The social demand of heterosexuality is considered necessary to complete his masculinity. Same-sex sexual intercourse and the queer community subsequently require reinterpretation in order not to nullify his masculinity. This is paired with strategies such as twinning and subculture affiliation. Jim’s queer identity is realised by an impossibility to commit to heterosexuality, and the creation of the new homosexual as part of the queer spectrum. The new homosexual keeps sex-gender alignment alive, whilst allowing queer sexuality.
Chapter Two: The ‘Dual’ Identity of A Single Man
In my analysis of The City and the Pillar I demonstrated that the formation of the protagonist’s male queer identity had to bypass traditional masculinity in order to form the ‘new homosexual’. This reconceptualisation of queerness created an anti-response from mainstream society after the novel’s publication, which eventually helped to establish queer politics. Before queer politics helped improve the social validity of queer sexuality, queer identity was repressed, and its adherents were driven into hiding, as reflected by the protagonist of A Single Man. In this novel, the destructive nature of social repression of queer sexuality was foregrounded.
After the revelations of male sexuality of 1948, public discourse on sex, as well as the policing of sex ran rampant (Trilling 20). Sexual deviation was highly discouraged on several levels, amongst others stemming from the pathologisation of homosexuality (Loftin 137; Rubin 152). In 1952, the American Psychiatric Association released the first edition of the
Diagnostic Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, a highly influential work detailing
‘abnormalities’ in mental health, which became widely used on both sides of the Atlantic (Fejes 15; Weeks 131). In the first three editions homosexuality is mentioned as a ‘sociopathic personality deviation’, effectively informing society on the correctness and incorrectness of certain sexual behaviours (Fejes 15). It would not be until the mid-1970s that the decision to pathologise homosexuality was reversed under the direction of changing social mores (Fejes 45). The pathologisation of homosexuality fuelled the fire of the social inapplicability of sexual ‘deviancy’.
During the era of McCarthyism, spanning from 1950 to 1954, a heightened awareness of homosexuality took shape (Achter; Fejes 16). In an attempt to manifest a unified American culture, public intervention took place on a governmental level (Fejes 14; Trilling 39). A public fear of homosexuality arose through the portrayal of sexual deviancy as a
destructive force for society; sexual deviation was seen as a potential, with deviates preying on children in order to convert them into queer sexuality (Fejes 16). On a political level, ‘deviates’ were more likely to convert to communism through their non-conformity, being easier to persuade into considering divergent ideologies (Eaklor 84; Fejes 17). As a result of the popularisation of the ‘new homosexual’ concept, queer sexuality was considered not necessarily a physical attribute; anyone may unsuspectingly be queer. This awareness created suspicion towards the ‘confirmed bachelor’, a man choosing not to marry (Handley 68). A witch hunt to unearth sexual deviates was a result, manifesting from behavioural divergence in public to a purge of private life (Loftin 125; Rubin 152). The public and private were now considered one and the same, and of equal importance to society.
Queer sexuality became increasingly problematic in terms of employment. In 1953, sexual deviates were banned from federal employment, whilst ultimately being openly homosexual within any profession could lead to being expelled (Eaklor 87; Rubin 152). Importantly, in Isherwood’s A Single Man the protagonist is a university teacher, and thus I consider a small overview of the risks of employment in the early 1960s U.S. educational system essential for further analysis. In terms of queer employment, an educational profession was socially opposed during the early 1960s. With homosexuality being considered transferable, it was deemed irresponsible to hire a queer teacher during the era (Loftin 133). Queer teachers had been able to teach under the veil of secrecy prior to the Second World War (Loftin 122). Awareness of sexuality during the postwar period made secrecy increasingly hard; any activity or rumour hinting to sexual deviation could prove the end of an educational career (Loftin 138). A queer teacher could only communicate with queer peers through queer spaces such as bars and bathhouses well beyond their usual environments, or through discreet private channels such as mail (Loftin 126). These options however also proved limited, following arrests in other cities and the advent of mail purges.
Being a teacher and being queer proved to be total extremes, causing many teachers to lead lonely, isolated lives.
The queer individual of the early 1960s were thus prone to self-conflict, often finding themselves in a closet from which they were easily exposed. Depending on the risks attached to their exposure as queer, their identities would be increasingly dual, with a socially accepted identity interchanged with a lonely, isolated self. Mike Wallace, as quoted by Fred Fejes, described the state of the male queer individual in the late 1960s as being ‘[t]old by the medical profession he is sick, by the law he is a criminal, [s]hunned by employers, rejected by heterosexual society, incapable of a fulfilling relationship with a woman, or for that matter, with a man’ (25). The same sentiment rings true for the early 1960s. Unsafe in the presence of their peers for fears of exposing their sexuality, the queer space came with the risk of outing and the subsequent loss of participation in society. Having been taught that their sexual identity was best eradicated, the queer perspective was given no chance to coexist with accepted social norms (Loftin 135).
In A Single Man, George, the protagonist, showcases the impossibility of queer sexuality in the post-McCarthy era. Placed in 1962, the novel comments on the necessity of self-construction according to societal forces, which necessarily eliminates the possibility of queer expression, revealing the need for a public and private identity. As the private voice is highlighted in the novel, it provides a commentary on ideological divergence, manifesting through radicalised ideas on behalf of the protagonist. George is seen to affiliate to new identities with the impossibility of queer expression. However, it also becomes apparent that retaliation to the status quo is only possible in silence as societal participation is threatened. The queer community is dismantled, and establishing connections with other queer individuals is portrayed as impossible through self-scrutiny. The queer identity is subsequently forced into isolation.
A Single Man starts with a commentary on the construction of the self as being
inherently related to what society requires from its members, including its views of gender, which leaves an invalidated identity prone to self-loathing. The novel opens with George’s assembling into a human being, a process heavily dependent on outside influence: ‘Obediently, it washes, shaves, brushes its hair; for it accepts its responsibilities to others. It is even glad that it has its place among them. It knows what is expected of it’ (8). George becomes a model citizen through model social behaviour. A product of society, he is only complete when he fits himself into what ‘they demand and are prepared to recognize’ (9). Amongst the demands of society is sex-gender alignment; the social construct of masculinity prevails in the creation of George from the opening passage onwards (Carr 58). The transformation from ‘it’ to ‘he’ (9) takes place during the act of dressing in which clothes literally make the man. This narrative based on social prescription of gender standards however also indicates George’s self-deprecation. Prior to becoming a ‘man’, George considers himself a ‘three-quarters-human thing’ (9). The ability to perform as a man within society does not come naturally, only emerging through demand and effort. George is known to society as one aspect, leaving the necessarily incomplete George behind. Only the forced addition of socially recognised inner and outer gender markers create the illusion of a complete man, an aspect that George recognises and only comes to influence his self-perception negatively when he considers his neglected identity’s social category.
The necessity of a dynamic, oppositional identity within early 1960s American society becomes apparent in George’s sarcastic comparison of his own lifestyle and that of ‘utopian’ suburbia, which is the source for George’s self-degradation. The U.S. is sarcastically described by George as a utopia: ’American utopia, the kingdom of the good life upon earth’ (20). The American social sphere is in the hands of the nuclear family, those who fit within society, which is represented by his neighbours, the Strunks. As a ‘fiend that won’t fit into their statistics’ (21), his queer ‘lifestyle’ is in complete contrast to suburban utopia, which
causes him to respond with contempt of his seemingly accusing neighbours. This seeming accusation is due to the narrative voice, as the Strunks’ attitudes towards queer sexuality are primarily imitated by George: ‘Mr Strunk, George supposes, tries to nail him down with a word. Queer, he doubtless growls’ (21). Antagonism primarily takes shape in George’s own mind as a result of social opposition. As the representative of the nuclear family, the Strunks function as an oppositional force. In order to appease the status quo, George is forced to fit his identity according to imposed social impulses, eliminating his queer identity. He effectively uses society’s harmful vocabulary to define his queer identity: ‘the bad-smelling beast that doesn’t use their deodorants, the unspeakable that insists, despite all their shushing, on speaking its name’ (21). Compulsory heterosexuality leads George to consider himself less of a human being, referring to himself as both animal and using a genderless pronoun. Ian Scott Todd furthermore defines the smell aspect of the beast as a hygiene metaphor and relates this to the propriety of compulsory heterosexuality (119-20). By not conforming to heterosexuality, George thus emits an unwanted air. George is aware of his place in society, and initially degrades himself according to mainstream logic, adopting negative words to define himself.
George’s discontent with social ideologies pertaining to queer sexuality stems from a fundamental disagreement with American society’s reasoning for the illegitimacy of queer sexuality, claiming legitimacy in love. Mainstream society in the early 1960s, through its continued promotion of the nuclear family, requires an explanation for the existence of homosexuality in order to defend itself against it. As a representative for mainstream society, Mrs Strunk functions as a stereotype of mainstream debate by adhering to the ideologies of postwar psychology, explaining the existence of queer sexuality and how it may be treated at an early age (Tully 29). Subsequently, George’s homosexuality is accepted by the Strunks as he is believed to be beyond redemption, ascribing a propriety to heterosexuality: ‘Here we have a misfit, debarred forever from the best things of life, to be pitied, not blamed’ (22-23).
George denies insinuations that homosexuality is caused by the need to supplement a missing element in the child’s upbringing: ‘…your book is wrong, Mrs Strunk, […] when it tells you that Jim is the substitute I found for a real son, a real kid brother, a real husband, a real wife’ (22-23). George feels no need to explain away his attraction to men, as he claims that his attraction to Jim ‘wasn’t a substitute for anything’ (23), pushing for the legitimacy of same-sex love in affirmative language. In The City and the Pillar, Jim Willard’s eventual reasoning for the acceptance of his queerness similarly stemmed from ‘affirmative love’ (Vidal, The City, 271) when similarly accused of compensation. The novel thus places itself in direct opposition, broadcasting a different sensibility. George is used as a voice to attack the over-conceptualisation of queer sexuality, claiming legitimacy to feeling over theory, an opinion he cannot publicly defend.
As a response to discrimination on a widespread level, George showcases signs of radicalisation as a member of the socially prescribed ‘sexual deviate’ group through his fantasies of infiltrating suburbia and of imposing upon the imposer. George identifies himself as a ‘sex deviate’ (28) by affiliating to the description of one according to local media, which leads him to fantasise about behaviour undesirable to the outgroup. In a new neighbourhood aiming to be prestigious and a fertile ground for the nuclear family, the local media starts a witch hunt to eliminate queer individuals. This parallels the systematic removal of queer individuals from society instigated in the McCarthy era (Eaklor 87; Rubin 152). George subsequently fantasises about his destructive power through a symbolical stench: ‘It would be amusing to […] spray all the walls […] with a specially prepared odorant which would be hardly noticeable at first but which would gradually grow in strength until it reeked like rotting corpses’ (29). Increased social scrutiny on sexuality causes him to want to affirm rather than deny his identity in order to claim his space in American suburbia. The label of sex deviate is accordingly appropriated and takes on a positive meaning to George himself. George delights in his ‘evil’ status, urging him to retaliate against accusers (Todd
120). He subsequently places himself in the shoes of mainstream society, the outgroup and oppressor, living out a role reversal fantasy, in which he forces the oppressor to sexually deviate, and instigates war against those who still opt against the newly-established ‘compulsory homosexuality’. This camp fantasy exploits his personal trauma of being a confirmed bachelor. To cope with social scrutiny, George takes on the role of oppressor to fight fire with fire and vindicate his excluded identity.
As part of his queer identity, George furthermore affirms his position as a ‘minority’ identity, using it as code to communicate to other members of the minority, and using the word minority in order to allow the discussion of his own position in society. George is allowed to use his minority status as a marker in the classroom, using the word as code to communicate with other members of minorities. Wally Bryant, whom he assumes is part of his ‘minority’, can be affiliated with through the use of unspoken communication: ‘George looks at Wally Bryant with a deep shining look that says, I am with you, little minority-sister’ (57). Whilst the subject of queer sexuality remains unspeakable, rendering queerness to an overarching minority group allows public commentary. George thus chooses to affiliate to the experience of an unnamed minority over asserting his queer identity, which covertly allows the subject of queerness to be discussed. George can thus explain his own radicalisation without fitting into the narrative: ‘While you’re being persecuted, you hate what’s happening to you, you hate the people who are making it happen; you’re in a world of hate’ (59). When considering George’s fantasies of subverting mainstream society, his perspective of being part of a minority allows him to comment on the experience. Affiliating with a minority status thus grants him the possibility of covert communication, whilst creating an outlet for safe discourse regarding the topic.
The social inferiority that is paired with his sexual deviate status leads George to reaffirm sexuality on his own terms. This, next to the still-popular ‘normalisation’ to heterosexuality, leads George to develop antagonism towards women. A reaffirmation of
queer sexuality comes in form of its reinterpretation as ‘normal’. In an ironic reinterpretation of heterosexuality, George names the promotion of heterosexuality ‘distasteful’ (70), opining sarcastically to prefer ‘wholesome’ and old-fashioned writing about boys. History is reinterpreted in order to include a more appropriate personal reality for George, excluding women from the narrative. Women are subsequently treated as society’s vehicle to convert homosexual men into the idealised frame of the nuclear family (Handley 76). Similarly to Jim Willard in The City and the Pillar, the Jim of A Single Man is revealed to have tried to ‘normalise’ to heterosexuality: ‘Gross insucking vulva, […] demanding that George shall step aside, bow down and yield to the female prerogative, hide his unnatural head in shame’ (80). In The City and the Pillar, the story arch of ‘normalisation’ functioned as a means to introduce the hopes of partaking in society by converting to the ‘superior’ heterosexuality. George however steadfastly values queerness; he finds himself directly opposed to women as a result of the ‘normalisation’ practice. As affection towards a man affirms his queer identity, and the social pressure to towards heterosexuality nullifies it, women are put at fault for the propagation of the nuclear family. Placing this hatred towards women, an outsider in the realm of male homosexuality, effectively allows George to further secure himself into his queer identity.
Retaliation towards society however is proven to only be possible in fantasy, as in order to commit to his privileged position in mainstream society, George is required to wear his socially appropriate mask. George is a university teacher, making retaliation towards social concepts of sexuality instantly problematic in terms of social standing. George is forced to contemplate his exterior in the workplace to fit perfectly into his social identity at university. He calculatedly eliminates cues that may indicate his queer identity, separating himself from his students; he claims to ‘never enter[…] the classroom with [Russ] Dreyer, or any other student’ (45). As noted by Craig M. Loftin, any indication within public or private life that a teacher could be homosexual was enough to potentially expel the teacher from the
workplace and mar their overall social standing (138). Homosexuality and being a teacher represent two incompatible identities. As a confirmed bachelor, he is already placed under extra scrutiny within the university. Allowing a showcase of any preferential treatment for a student, especially male through the example of Dreyer, may be detrimental in his attempt to uphold his ingroup position as a teacher. This manifests in George’s constant self-scrutiny: ‘George cannot talk to another human being as if the two of them were alone, when in fact they aren’t’ (45). George’s behaviour is thus constantly under self-scrutiny, fearing that even study-related questions may reveal a sexual intention.
The teacher community is contrasted by the postwar queer community and queer space George affiliated with, a community which similarly to the representation of queer sexuality in society has diminished, leaving him incapable of group participation. In a flashback to 1946, George describes a group of ‘hitch-hiking servicemen’ (125) as a ‘tribal encampment’ (124), placing their space, the beach, in a queer light due to its function as a common, carefree locale for private encounters. The soldier was afforded sexual liberty in the homosocial space during wartime (McCruer 222). The postwar servicemen are seen to continue this liberty. The queer space is built on a shared ideology of tolerance, in which romantic ‘coupling’ can take place without rebuke: ‘each group or pair to itself and bothering no one, yet all a part of the life of the tribal encampment’ (125). George laments the long-gone locale, which was taken by the subsequent return to ‘normalcy’ that marked postwar America: ‘The hitch-hiking servicemen are few now and mostly domesticated; going back and forth between the rocket-base and their homes and wives’ (125). Normalcy returned, meaning compulsory heterosexuality now reigns in the servicemen’s lives, dissolving the community. The beach has become derelict, much akin to the reputation of homosexuality in the United States: ‘Respectable people avoid [the neighbourhood] instinctively’ (125), as much as they avoid sexual deviance. George no longer is capable of communicating with his peers, as the space of his community has ceased to function.
In his attempt to establish legitimacy to his neglected queer identity, the impossibility of defending queer sexuality is revealed through a conflict in intergroup communication between the queer outlier and mainstream society. George meets Kenny Porter, a student, believing him to be a potential ally in being either a fellow queer individual or having the potential to understand George’s identity. The communication process is however marked by George’s uncertainty of affiliation to Kenny, as George can only assume queerness in terms of covert signs, causing him to increasingly treat Kenny as a member of the outgroup. Retrieving no overt information into the potential queer identity of Kenny, George starts to assume reactions based on Kenny’s status as belonging to the majority; Kenny’s grin is transformed into a malicious sign that he has unmasked George’s queer identity. Kenny’s mockery is translated to increasing disaffiliation with George. As George is not capable of achieving clarity on Kenny’s sexuality or intentions, he returns to hiding and self-scrutinising in accordance to social expectations. After having told Kenny that students visit his home, he feels an instant need to desexualise his statement: ‘George is immediately aware that this sounds defensive and guilty as hell’ (128). Having already questioned his statement regarding student visits, George further complicates the insinuation of the sexual nature between him and his students when he responds to Kenny’s hopes to returning to his home with ‘Sure. Where else?’ (139). Feeding on Kenny’s nonverbal communication, George becomes continuously more prone to double entendre, and more suspicious of his own tone, which functions as a strategy to distance himself from his queer identity. Accomplishing an ingroup affiliation is instantly made impossible through the necessity of the world-weariness in discussing queer sexuality.
Kenny and his continuous silence, now interpreted by George as a representative of mainstream society, effectively becomes a silencing mechanism to George, who interprets the silence as antagonism and is subsequently incapable of voicing his identity, which leads to isolation. Kenny switches in purpose through a newfound antagonism, turning from
potential ally and flirt to enemy, a representation of mainstream society: ‘What I said just now, about the bed in the study - that shocked you. Because you were determined to be shocked. You utterly refused to understand my motives’ (148). George is angered at Kenny’s lack of response to sexual hints, leading him to assume that Kenny thinks him ‘a dirty old man’ (147), filling in blanks according to the social stigma attached to being queer. George attempts to rectify his own behaviour, having had his sexual cues rejected. George’s monologue is subsequently revealed to come from a place of queer sexual impossibility. Revealing himself to have wanted to sexually engage with Kenny, and believing Kenny to have visited for this reason, his tirade focuses on denying sexual intentions: ‘Here are you - in that damned blanket; why don’t you take it right off, […] I supposed you’re going to misunderstand that too?’ (148). Sexual intentions are effectively rendered a ‘misunderstanding’, when reality is opposite; George comments on the impossibility of uttering the unspeakable: ‘there’s nothing I’d rather do! I want like hell to tell you. But I can’t. I quite literally can’t’ (149). Having attempted to reach Kenny through his queer identity, he is unable to literally voice it, not having been encouraged by Kenny’s chastity. George’s queer identity is hinted but not revealed, requiring it to reside in self-loathing isolation.
George’s identity in A Single Man serves as an example of the contemporary struggle of a queer individual coping within a society that routinely scrutinises sexual behaviour. George stands as an individual who is extremely aware of his position in society, which leads to self-degradation and duality in identity. However, he is seen to silently affiliate as a sexual deviate and a minority through his fundamental disagreement with society in terms of sexual propriety. He antagonises society and women according to their position in nullifying his queer identity. Whilst he attempts to showcase his identity, he eventually is incapable of acting out his queer identity in combination with his privileged position in mainstream society, forcing his queer identity into isolation.
Chapter Three: Belonging, Butts, and Brutes in The Swimming-Pool Library
Major legal reforms took place in both the United Kingdom and the United States in the decades following A Single Man, most notably the widespread legalisation of same-sex sexual activity. In the United Kingdom, same-sex sexual activity was legalised in 1967 in England and Wales. Scotland and Northern Ireland would follow in 1980 and 1982 respectively (Smith and Leeworthy 625). The laws pertained to same-sex sexual activity in private3, still rendering public sexual solicitation illegal (Grimshaw 251). This restricted form of legalisation did not overwhelmingly lead to the acceptance of sexuality beyond heteronormative structures. As stated by Evan Smith and Daryl Leeworthy, whilst post-sexual liberation society became more accustomed to coexistence with its queer counterparts, acceptance of homosexuality continued to be contested (625). Debates running into the 1980s did not consider the equality of all sexual citizens, continuing to consider queer sexuality as fundamentally different (Concannon 331). The increasing popularity of the National Front in the United Kingdom during the late 1970s further problematised the social perspective of queer sexuality (Severs 170). In the same period, a series of Thatcher governments commenced, reaffirming heteronormative sexuality and family values as a response to increased sexual liberation (Robinson 95).
In the years between the sexual revolution and the publication of The
Swimming-Pool Library, generalisations pertaining to homosexuality remained stagnant, and
homosexuality continued to be conflated with legally problematic forms of sexuality. Homosexuality and paedophilia were still being linked, a stereotype still used in the 1980s to dissuade the employment of queer individuals in child-based workplaces (Robinson 138,
3 Technically, ‘private’ in terms of the law meant an enclosed space to which only two parties have access (Grimshaw 251).
