As an academic researcher, I’ve taken the plunge into areas that others often fear to tread to trace something of the hidden erotic history of Britain. In this stretch of experience, you’ll find crystalized the changes of manners and mores, emerging fronts against reactionary governments, world-making among communities marginalized, ostracised, and endangered, censorship and legislation and debate, and the long tail of civil upheavals around the Summer of Love, gay rights, trans rights, and more. This is often the history of the suburbs, of dreams and imaginations, of reprehensible interlopers, of freethinking paradigm-breakers, and the index of what British society offered its citizens.
I wrote
Hotbeds of Licentiousness: The British Glamour Film and the Permissive Society
This was only published way after Forster’s death–and I can quite see why: it would have whipped up a storm of unimaginable controversy with its story of homosexual love between two Cambridge students and then (steady yourself!) one of those students in later life and a rough-and-ready groundsman.
Forster wrote this in 1913/14, revised it in the 1930s and again in the 1950s, died in 1970, and Maurice finally appeared in 1971. So the book, which concerns hiding, was deeply hidden for over half a century. Forster is sentimental in terms of love and brutal in terms of fate.
Love bucks polite society’s norms in the face of the danger of arrest, public scandal, and disgrace. But such love is so delicate and dangerous that any affront to it has to be met with the most decisive action to protect everyone involved–even if the price is loneliness and a life-long longing for a long-lost lover. It’s just too much to read this book in the UK.
Read it abroad, at a safe distance: preferably (as per D. H. Lawrence) while in exile in Italy, far away from the suppressed emotions of your fellow countrymen in their damp climate.
As Maurice Hall makes his way through a traditional English education, he projects an outer confidence that masks troubling questions about his own identity. Frustrated and unfulfilled, a product of the bourgeoisie he will grow to despise, he has difficulty acknowledging his nascent attraction to men.
At Cambridge he meets Clive, who opens his eyes to a less conventional view of the nature of love. Yet when Maurice is confronted by the societal pressures of life beyond university, self-doubt and heartbreak threaten his quest for happiness.
This is really terrible–if highly moreish–stuff: a thin, junky, first-drafty picaresque. But it formed the basis of a film starring Jackie’s sister, Joan. The film even had a tie-in aftershave (heavy on the ginseng), promising all kinds of advantages for the wearer. The film and the book both try to suggest a deluxe, upmarket, classy melding of disco culture with the post-permissive society sexual freedoms now available to the 1970s bachelor and (as an ill-informed nod to feminism) the businesswoman.
This imagined milieu was a million miles from the sleazy, criminal experience of London’s Soho, which had traditionally been where all this erotic access was clustered. The aspiration was shared by Paul Raymond, who worked to translate the risqué stage shows of the 1960s (think pre-fame Christine Keeler) to more contemporary fare for the proto-Thatcherite managerial class, keen to see what secular society had to offer them and their new money. Class and sexuality were also a major concern for fellow bonkbuster Jilly Cooper, for Class: a book so rebarbative that even she attacked it as just too much in her foreword to a later edition.
In the decadent, hedonistic world of London in 1969, Tony Blake and a group of swinging companions pursue all kinds of erotic diversions amid the glittering nightclubs, discos, and pleasure palaces of the city. Reprint.
Despite draft-stage admonitions from his great friend, the Jesuit priest Ronald Knox, the amount of sex Waugh layers into Brideshead Revisited is surprising for 1945: functionally heterosexual couplings, more given over to class imperatives of property, inheritance and trophy wives, and the tentatively homosexual (depending on interpretation), as located in the awakenings of young adulthood, as sluiced by wine, aesthetic beauty, cigars and Venice in Summer.
But it’s Venice and its architecture that’s the actual location of the full sensual awakening, triggering the protagonist’s eventual journey to Catholicism as he passes time among the Venetian stone of churches… and a fountain: “This was my conversion to the baroque...I felt a whole new system of nerves alive within me, as though the water that spurted and bubbled among its stones was indeed a life-giving spring.” Eroticized Ruskinalia, finally stepping beyond the Anglo-Catholicism of the Oxford Movement.
It is WW2 and Captain Charles Ryder reflects on his time at Oxford during the twenties and a world now changed. As a lonely student Charles was captivated by the outrageous and decadent Sebastian Flyte and invited to spend time at the Flyte's family home - the magnificent Brideshead. Here Charles becomes infatuated by its eccentric, aristocratic inhabitants, and in particular with Julia, Sebastian's startling and remote sister. But as his own spiritual and social distance becomes marked, Charles discovers a crueller world, where duty and desire, faith and happiness can only ever conflict.
This shamelessly self-regarding autobiography seems to have been a ghost-(re)written into a biography so that the author’s boasts are afforded a bit more credibility: “Harrison Marks is 40, reasonably good-looking, black hair, a black mustache, tanned and fit”; “His life is women, some of the most beautiful women in the world” etc.
Marks was the epicenter of the post-war British erotic revolution, moving from producing kitsch postcards of topless glamour models snapped in his cat-strewn Soho studios to the direction of truly dire British sex comedies (Come Play With Me is the best remembered), and with 8mm loops for home entertainment being churned out behind the scenes.
Disconcertingly, he often appeared in his work too. By the 1980s, he was reputed to be found, very refreshed, slumped in the corner of the film set while the others got on with the business at hand. This book comes from Marks’s imperial phase: the pioneer of free love and advocate of swinging is about to set off to Hollywood and fame and (further) fortune. (He didn’t make it, but a few associates did). Marks directly connects the last gasps (and personnel) of Victorian Music Hall to a 1990s underground of dodgy videos.
When this book first appeared in 1967, public interest in glamour photographer and magazine publisher George Harrison Marks was arguably at an all-time high. Just who was this man with the beatnik beard, the thick frame glasses and the seemingly dream job of photographing beautiful women in a state of undress?
An accidental academic edge and idealistic, boosterish teacher lands Larkin’s non-entity protagonist in Oxford. Behavior degenerates from the tongue-tied comprehensive boy, ill at ease in the louche public school mob, to a fellow hearty and then a rowdy. After that, he becomes a stalker and gradually loses his marbles. Larkin has the protagonist write letters in the voice of the stalkee, Jill, and so imitate the assumed mindset of the innocent young girl primed for romance. Larkin would try something of this intimate interlocution again (passing himself off, as an author, as a retired headmistress) with his eroticized Enid Blyton-like novellas, Trouble at Willow Gables and Michaelmas Term at St Bride’s(dodging lesbian clinches with predatory older girls during late night Latin lessons in the dorms, frequent spankings from the headmistress, etc).
All this is brilliantly comic, proto-Angry Young Man and proto-punk, and counters the chilliness of post-war austerity with an anticipation of the hedonist society to come. Larkin’s later lot was that he somehow missed all this opportunity, hence the frustration and yearning of poems such as Annus Mirabilis and High Windows.
Michaelmas term, 1940. 18-year-old John Kemp has come down from Lancashire to Oxford University to begin his scholarship studying English. But when he invents an imaginary sister to win the attention of a rich but unreliable 'friend', and then falls in love for real, undergraduate life becomes its own strange world .
'Absolutely contemporary - perhaps even prophetic.' Joyce Carol Oates 'Remarkable . A book about innocence.' Simon Garfield 'A cryptic literary manifesto [about] discovering a literary personality, and the consolation art can provide.' Andrew Motion
My book is the first full history of British erotic cinema and the Permissive Society–from Swinging London through the Winter of Discontent to Margaret Thatcher's arrival and beyond.
Along the way, we encounter meddling moralists clustered around Mary Whitehouse and the British Board of Film Censors, dodgy “glamour” photographers, the “meat rack” in Piccadilly, 8mm home projection technology, hot tubs in the stockbroker belt, Jimmy Savile’s anti-porn work, members-only Soho cinema clubs, the tentative beginnings of gay porn in the UK (and its later, very full-on “Council Estate” phase), the Conservative Party and the return to “Victorian values,” swinging educational films, the Satanist phase of British erotica, and Elizabeth David’s food recipes.
The 19th century women's rights movement and the rise of public education intertwine with one woman's story of struggle, perseverance, and love.
Alice Harris is pressed to marry a Civil War veteran twice her age when her family’s inn fails in 1882 in western North Carolina. She remakes herself by learning to farm tobacco, campaigning for the city’s first public schools, and immersing herself in the large and divisive Carter family. But marriage offers a tenuous promise of security. When tragedy strikes, Alice turns to the courts to fight for her independence and discovers an unexpected love.
The 19th century women's rights movement and the rise of public education intertwine with one woman's story of struggle, perseverance, and love.
When her father dies and the family inn falls to ruin in 1882, western North Carolina, thirty-year-old Alice Harris is compelled to marry Jasper Carter, a Civil War veteran twice her age. Far from home and a stranger in a new family, Alice remakes herself. She learns to farm tobacco, mothers her stepson, and comes to love her husband.
However, Alice uncovers pending trouble with the family's land holdings, which threatens their livelihood on the farm. The growth…
