Inseparable: Desire Between Women in Literature

by Emma Donoghue

Love between women crops up throughout literature: from Chaucer and Shakespeare to Charlotte Brontë, Dickens, Agatha Christie, and many more. In Inseparable Emma Donoghue examines how desire between women in literature has been portrayed, from schoolgirls and vampires to runaway wives, from cross-dressing knights to contemporary murder stories. Donoghue looks at the work of those writers who have addressed the ‘unspeakable subject’, examining whether such desire between women is freakish or omnipresent, holy or evil, heart-warming or ridiculous as she excavates a long-obscured tradition of female friendship, one that is surprisingly central to our cultural history. A revelation of a centuries-old literary tradition – brilliant, amusing, and until now, deliberately overlooked.

Genres: Nonfiction, LGBT, History, Queer, Lesbian, Literary Criticism, Feminism

285 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2010

About the author

Grew up in Ireland, 20s in England doing a PhD in eighteenth-century literature, since then in Canada. Best known for my novel, film and play ROOM, also other contemporary and historical novels and short stories, non-fiction, theatre and middle-grade novels.

Reviews

[Danika at The Lesbrary · Rating 5 out of 5]

The subtitle of Inseparable should be Or: How All the Authors You’ve Ever Heard of Wrote Lesbian Love Stories and No One Told You. Ovid? Shakespeare? Apparently every author who was anyone wrote lesbian love stories and I was somehow not aware of it. We are taught that lesbian literary history begins with Radclyffe Hall, with Sappho a distant anomaly. That's not true at all. Desire between women has always existed, and it's been written about throughout time. It's just that somehow our history has been hidden from us.

Full review at the Lesbrary.

[Alwynne · Rating 2 out of 5]

Emma Donoghue’s probably best known as a novelist but she also has a PhD in an area of literary studies. I think it’s this she’s drawing on for her study of desire between women in literature. Despite that Inseparable’s aimed at general readers, so Donoghue skips any sustained consideration of theoretical or critical frameworks. Instead, she focuses on producing a kind of map of recurring patterns in fiction that centres relations between women, although characters in subplots also count here. Her definition of what that embraces is fairly broad, everything from platonic bonds to ‘intimate’ friendships, as well as obvious forms of sexual desire: so she looks at the ‘glossed-over’ ties between Tattycoram and Miss Wade in Dickens’s Little Dorrit alongside novels like Patience and Sarah and The Well of Loneliness. The types of plotlines she picks out include rivalry between a man and a woman for another woman’s affection, a prime example’s D.H. Lawrence’s The Fox and coming-out narratives like Rubyfruit Jungle.

It sounded like a fascinating project, well it did to me anyway, even if I wasn’t entirely sure about Donoghue’s narrow categories. But I found the end result disappointing, most of what’s here is purely descriptive, brief paragraphs about context followed by basic plot outlines with comments on their possible significance in thinking about attitudes to relationships between women. Donoghue’s style of presentation’s also surprisingly dry. I think this is most effective as a means of demonstrating the sheer range of material that references forms of desire between women, as well as the fact that, at least in the West, these date back as far as Chaucer. Although the study is Western-centric and not as diverse as I’d expected writers like Audre Lorde, for example, are strangely absent. A number of the novels and stories selected by Donoghue were ones I’d already come across, but I did find some of her discussion of historical contexts and differences between European traditions intriguing: a greater emphasis on the cultural and social background for the material Donoghue examines would definitely have made reading this a richer experience. But for anyone less familiar with literary history or canonical lesbian texts; who’d like suggestions for further reading or just wants to trace an outline of the history of representing relationships between women, this might be a lot more worthwhile.

[Akemi G. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant review of woman-to-woman romantic love in Western literature, from the ancient Greek mythology to late 20th century. The most remarkable feature of this book is the way the author organized it by how such relationships are treated in the plot lines. She presents six patterns:

1. Travesties
A woman dresses as a man, inadvertently causing romantic feelings in a woman, which may be a problem for the crossdresser but amusing to the audience. (eg. Twelfth Night) OR a man poses as a woman (as Zeus did to approach Callisto).

2. Inseparables
Two women who are committed seriously and fervently. Until recently, sex was defined as intercourse, so sexual relationship wasn't supposed to exist where there was no penis. With such social awareness, two inseparable women's relationship was often described as friendship. To further complicate the point, these women may or may not have been touching each other's genitals. However, regardless how they were feeling, the readers found their commitment special. (An example is Ruth and Naomi. Whatever the nature of their relationship was, Ruth's vow is repeated in many weddings.)
Events and people that attempt to separate the two only make their awareness stronger. Includes plots in which one of the women rescues the other from extreme poverty, forced prostitution, etc.

3. Rivals
A woman and a man competing for the love of a woman. Unlike the love triangle of two men fighting for a woman, in which one man becomes the winner and the other a loser, this plot doesn't end so black-and-white. We can argue that the "there are no such thing as lesbianism" notion unexpectedly working for the women here; it was acceptable for a married woman to have an intimate girlfriend.

4. Monsters
Because homosexuality was considered unnatural and immoral, those who were in this camp were considered to enjoy various other vices as well. It reflects men's fear about lesbians.

5. Detection
Lesbian passion causes crimes--for the detective, how knowledgeable he (or she) is about such passion is the key to solve the puzzle.

6. Out
Coming out didn't start in the late 20th century, and not all lesbians viewed themselves as unusual. (Well, yeah, of course.) For novelists, the social anxiety about same-sex relationship offers rare opportunity: a woman identifying herself as lesbian creates tension by itself.

The author defines her scope clearly:

My focus on plot means I leave out some prose classics such as ... as well as most poetry ... Outside of English and French I have only been able to read what I have found in translation.

And within this scope--Western, mostly English/American and French novels--she is very well-read, from Ovid to Chaucer to long-forgotten novels. Her judicious quotes are helpful to get the feel and taste of novels I haven't read. The book also has some illustrations, such as the covers and illustrations of books that are discussed herein--very beautiful.

Books on literary reviews tend to be narcist ramblings. This one manages to keep clear and level head on this touchy (I guess it still is?) topic; very worth reading whatever your sexual orientation may be.

[Arlian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally, I was going to give this book 5 stars. A few reviewers have said it's "too academic", but I am baffled by that. This is an incredibly easy to read book. While this book is basically a survery of literature, you don't have to have read any of the works that Donoghue references. I have actually read a number of the books cited, but I originally missed out on a lot of what Donoghue points out. She makes me want to reread some of these books for sure. All around, a stellar work. So why did I remove 1 star, you ask??

Here is my reasoning: The point of this book is to "prove" (by citing literature throughout history) that despite the fact that we haven't always had the word "Lesbian" to use, nor have we always had words to talk about lesbian sex, these things have always existed. The ways they have existed and the ways they have been talked about have differed, but woman have always loved women throughout history, right? Okay, we're all agreed on that. Now, let's follow that idea a little bit further....the words "transsexual" and "transgender" have not always existed, right? But similar to lesbianism, while the trans experience has always existed, we haven't always known how to talk about or identify it. So here is my issue: many instances given in Donoghues book could easily be taken to support the existence NOT of lesbian relationships, but the existence of trans people throughout history. Many of the women who cross dress eventually come out as women--and choose to STAY as women, but sometimes they don't. Sometimes they get magically turned into their "true selves"--men. Which allows them to legally marry the women they love. Even when these "female bridegrooms" stay as women, they often express their anguish at not being men. Sure--due to language constraints (and constraints of the imagination) at the time, one could argue that the only way two women could even imagine being together was for one of them to become a man...but.....I'm not so sure. I'm especially hesitant to buy that idea since there so many examples of women in romantic and sexual relationships WITHOUT gender bending--the whole chapter of "inseparables" is basically about that.

I loved this book--I think it's truly wonderful scholarship in an area where we need much more study. But, Donoghue never touches or talks about the trans issue. I want to know what a less cis-lesbian reading of these stories would look like. How would an "invert" or a "female bridegroom" be interpreted by a trans-historian? Other than that, it's still pretty darn decent.

[Veronika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ich hab es in einem Zug durchgelesen, so unterhaltsam fand ich es - außerdem hat es mir ganz viele Empfehlungen geliefert, in die ich in nächster Zeit mal reinschnuppern werde. ;)
Emma Donoghue sammelt hier einen spannenden Überblick über leidenschaftliche Gefühle zwischen Frauen in der Literatur. Sie argumentiert sehr überzeugend dafür, wieso es eigentlich keine Rolle gespielt hat, ob diese Beziehungen nun platonisch waren oder sexuell, (da es laut der damaligen Meinung sowieso kein Sex war, wenn kein Penis involviert war) und es sowieso viel mehr um die Bedrohung ging, die davon ausging, dass zwei Frauen sich selbst genug waren und sich dem traditionellen Modell der Ehe und der ihnen zugewiesenen Rolle in der Gesellschaft entzogen haben.

Meine Lieblingskapitel waren "Travesties" und "Inseparables", weil das ehrlich gesagt die schönsten und romantischsten Beziehungen beinhaltet hat. "Rivals" fand ich überraschend faszinierend und "Monsters" war genauso schlimm wie erwartet.
Natürlich war mir schon vorher klar, dass lesbische (oder bisexuelle) Frauen in der Literatur oft nicht gut weggekommen sind, und der Trend sie als Monster darzustellen oder als gefallene Frau, die am Ende den Gnadenschuss bekommt, war mir auch bekannt. Was ich nicht wusste, war dass es auch so früh wie im 17 oder 18 Jahrhundert erste positive Rollen gab, sowie - man glaubt es kaum! - sogar das eine oder andere Happy End.

Höchst befremdlich fand ich den vorherrschenden (und sich offenbar hartnäckig haltenden) Gedanken, dass lesbische Liebe eine für immer "unerfüllte" Liebe sein muss, da man offenbar nur (erfüllenden) Sex haben kann, wenn mindestens ein Penis involviert ist. Deswegen sterben in der Literatur auch so viele Lesben, weil sie praktisch von ihrer dauerhaft unerfüllten Erregung aufgezehrt werden. ;) (Das Problem haben schwule Männer in der Literatur übrigens nicht, aber da sind ja auch ZWEI Penisse involviert!)
Ich fand das unheimlich lustig, weil diese Literatur zum Großteil von Männern geschrieben wurde, die Lesben schon irgendwie spannend und sexy fanden, aber dann doch nicht so gut mit dem Gedanken klar gekommen sind, dass die möglicherweise auch ohne Mann zurecht kommen (hat da jemand ein sehr fragiles Ego?) UND die offenbar nicht die aktuellen Statistiken kennen, die besagen, dass 70% aller Frauen eben NICHT durch rein vaginale Stimulation zum Orgasmus kommen können, sondern die breite Mehrheit klitorale Stimulation, soll heißen durch Hände oder Zungen, bevorzugt und als viel befriedigender erlebt. So viel dazu. ;)
Aber ich hatte ja schon immer das Gefühl, dass Männer die Fähigkeiten und die Wichtigkeit ihres Penis maximal überschätzen.

Insgesamt ein sehr schön geschriebener, unterhaltsamer Überblick über Frauenliebende Frauen in der Literaturgeschichte.
Natürlich ist es im Nachhinein oft schwer zu differenzieren ob ein Charakter nun lesbisch oder bi, demi, ace oder poly ist, oder ob es eine Frau ist, die sich nur der Notwendigkeit halber als Mann verkleidet hat oder eben doch ein transMann oder jemand, der sich als nonbinär identifizieren würde - einfach weil es die Sprache dafür damals gar nicht gab. Auch machen es bestimmte Denkmuster und Konventionen der damaligen Zeit es schwierig - z.b. wenn ein weiblicher Charakter in der Literatur des 19 Jahrhunderts als maskulin und/oder radikal-feministisch dargestellt wurde, war das fast immer ein (für das damalige Publikum) deutlicher Hinweis, dass es sich hierbei um eine Lesbe handelte (siehe z.b. Marian Halcombe aus "The Woman in White"). Das ist für unsere modernen Sensibilitäten oft nur noch schwer nachvollziehbar. Aber umso spannender sich damit zu beschäftigen.

[l · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was hesitant about reading this book because my knowledge of English and French literary traditions is minimal (practically nonexistent to be honest, you say Restoration comedy and my brain spins about wildly before pulling up one or two vague facts) and this book focuses on works which most the most part, I've never heard of, but it was fantastic. Smart, clear, engaging, striking the right degree of detail, funny etc - everything that survey literature should be.

[Celia T · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love Emma Donoghue, I love Literary Lesbians, I am so hyped to read every novel & play & ballad mentioned in this very excellent book

[Cait · Rating 5 out of 5]

let me get my two primary critiques out of the way at the beginning:

• first, although donoghue mentions that one of the works she discusses is read by some as more of a "trans book" (and she explicitly uses the words trans and transgender) than a [cis] "lesbian book," leading the reader to infer that she is at least aware that trans people exist, there are a LOT of works mentioned herein that I think would benefit from a similar reading that donoghue sort of eschews or overlooks. indeed, there are characters mentioned who are insistently called women by donoghue when it is entirely unclear as to whether or not the characters would describe themselves in such a manner. although to a certain extent I appreciated how this book made clear how externally and temporally imposed particular labels are, and how I find the solidarity, similarity, blur, and overlap between the experiences of cis lesbians, nonbinary or otherwise "other-gender" people, and trans men both personally very comforting and more broadly something really beautiful to be celebrated, I was also like lol okay, emma, you could have at least made some kind of disclaimer a little more explicitly about blah blah blah women something gender something blah blah blah.

• second, and this makes sense as donoghue explicitly focuses on 'western' literature (most of the works mentioned are english or french), but this is a very white work. again, donoghue has explicitly named her focuses, and she does acknowledge issues of race when they arise (the ways in which certain multiracial characters' race affects others' perception of them, the grotesque treatment of henrika in allen's wife, etc), but I think the thing that I found most jarring was when there was a picture of some suffragettes and it was just like oh yeah they earned the right to vote for women, end of. uh. okay.

ANYWAY, those are my two major points of "uh hmm wait a minute," and they are not ones to be taken lightly, but at the same time I enjoyed this book so thoroughly that I can't bring myself to rate it lower than 5 stars. what a treat. I texted several different friends about this book, and caitlin told me that it was "An extremely english teacher recommendation," and I truly cannot deny it.

I bookmarked so many parts of this book lmao and I'm dreading having to go through them right now. WOULD THAT I OWNED A PHYSICAL COPY OF THIS BOOK (as opposed to having read an e-book from the library) SO I COULD HAVE JUST SCRIBBLED ALL OVER IT INSTEAD!!!!!!! my favorite section was the one on 'travesties' because ♡♡♡ I am a travesty ♡♡♡*✧ ✰ ｡*.


• relations between women, rather than the more historically recent issue of self-conscious sexual orientation. Although I occasionally say lesbian2 as shorthand, the twenty-first-century use of that word as a handy identity label does not begin to do justice to the variety of women’s bonds in literature from the 1100s to the 2000s. The past is a wild party; check your preconceptions at the door.

• One reason is that—if I may state the obvious—lesbian storylines begin with two or more women, rather than a man and a woman. This means that gender roles are up for grabs.[…] “The fact that it was possible to reverse the relation like an hourglass was what the girls found so troubling.”

• the House of Lords did defeat an attempt to add lesbianism to the law against male homosexuality; the peers feared to “advertise” this vice by naming it.

• If even the nonliterate in the pit were getting the point of these [homoerotic] scenes, then there must have been a “tacit, if not fully articulated, public cultural discourse” about desire between women.

• What I hope to show22 is not that it is “all the same thing,” but that, in studying the full spectrum of passionate relationships between women in literature, it is a pointless exercise to erect a fence down the middle, dividing the lesbians from the just-really-good-friends.

• (I recently saw an essay by a literal-minded undergraduate that claimed, “In the nineteenth century, most lesbians were vampires.”)

• Another problem is that such interpretations rely on reading the cross-dresser as just one thing or another—a male or a female, whether defined by clothes or physiology. Marjorie Garber has argued5 influentially that we should look not through but at the cross-dresser, whom she calls a third term—a figure who can break the binary code of gender. As I see it, to keep insisting that a cross-dressed character is really male or female is to reduce that character’s interest and power, and similarly to ask what these works are really about is rather beside the point.

• the understanding is that the woman’s erotic interest in someone she either believes to be female or who secretly is female is a mistake, which will be magically corrected by the eventual dropping of the disguise. Often the middle of these stories is more interesting than the ending

• (Without the benefit of modern biology,13 she has no idea that same-sex goings-on can be observed right across the animal kingdom.)

• The temple shakes; on the way out, Iphis “walked with a longer stride than usual…she who had lately been a woman had become a man.” Notice Iphis is still “she,” her girl-self lingering like a ghost. Only when recounting the wedding itself does Ovid shift to a male pronoun, to tell us that “the boy Iphis gained his own Ianthe.”

• (This is typical of female bridegroom plots: it is almost always the cross-dresser’s feminine charms that attract other women, rather than any machismo she may display.)

• Intriguingly, their crime20 is called buggery in Bourchier’s original translation (c. 1534)—“he wold not suffer such boggery to be used”—but by the third edition in 1601 the word has been euphemized to “falsehood.”

• Here Iphis wavers between what we might call a phallic sexuality (the claiming of kisses and embraces, the thrill of possession) and a much more uncertain, diffusely ecstatic, receptive kind of desire that leads to “forgetting” the “thing” itself, the consummation: where we might expect this bridegroom to focus on the task of deflowering her bride, she confounds our expectations by longing to (symbolically or literally?) “make a place for” Iante’s body in herself.

• VENUS I like well and allowe it, they shall both be possessed of their wishes, for never shall it be said that Nature or Fortune shall over-throwe Love and Fayth.

• ‘If I were a knight and my heart was free, I would not want to have any lady but her.’

• Most playwrights and romance writers place great emphasis on the moment of revelation, when the cross-dresser drops the disguise, whether willingly or otherwise, verbally or sartorially. (Or even physically: in the fifth act of Jean de Rotrou’s Célimène [1633], the stage direction instructs the actress to bare her breast.)

• In passed times42 I think there hath beene none,
In time to come it will not be believed,
That love should make by such a strong infection
One woman beare another such affection.…
I sole am found in earth, aire, sea, or fire,
In whom so strange a wonder thou hast donne.
On me thou showst the power of thine ire
And what a mighty conquest thou hast wonne…
No Dedalus could not remedie my bale,
Nor art can frame nor sence imagin how:
This knot dame nature hath so firmly knit
It cannot be dissolv’d by any wit.
/ And wisht her this unbridled will to tame,
Sith nature could not suffer it prevaile,
And that she would let that desire be daunted
Which possiblie by no meanes could be graunted.
/ That little sleepe straung dreames and fansies bred:
She thought the gods and heav’n would so assist her
Into a better sex to chaung my sister.

• Often[…] it is the sister rather than the brother who arranges the swap. In fact, at times the brother has all the agency of a dildo

• “A sister!”46 Olivia cries, which might seem like an unconvincing expression of banal friendship. But Denise Walen argues47 that Olivia’s immediate declaration that she will host Viola’s wedding to Orsino can be read as her way of holding on to the girl she still loves, by means of a sort of permanent, four-person union.

• Less often noticed is a more important Jacobean innovation: the cross-dresser who deliberately woos another woman. Her hidden motive is usually a nasty one, but that does nothing to reduce the sexiness of the scenario.

• Margaret Cavendish’s Matrimonial Trouble51 (an understated title for a sort of Restoration Fatal Attraction)

• Then she demands they swap clothes, for extra excitement:
Come, we’l in
And change our Sexes; Thou shalt wear my clothes,
And I will put on these, help on with thine,
And I will dress thee handsomely, and then
We’ll act again.
“Not for the world dear Madam,” gasps the panic-stricken Rosania.

• Enter the jealous Almerin, who stabs them both. Iphigene confesses that she is a woman who courted Francelia to keep her away from the man she loves, Almerin. But instead of reacting with the expected rage and shame, Francelia insists she adores Iphigene as much as ever. (As for her original love object, Almerin, she rather snappishly sends him off to fetch a surgeon.)

• Iphigene marvels:
Have you
So perfectly forgiv’n already, as to
Consider me a losse? I doubt which Sexe
I shall be happier in.

• Notice that Callisto is not put off by unrestrained kisses and embraces from the faux Diana. Only when these erotic overtures reach the “shameful action” of rape does she recognize that this must be a man. Fallen and (inevitably) pregnant,

• When she orders the nymphs to “hand each other and acquaint yourselves,” this literally means “go hand in hand and get to know each other,” but Heywood’s audience would have heard a suggestion of mutual handling, and a pun (“quaint,” meaning “cunt”) that dates back to Chaucer.

• “For a girl to love a girl,73 alas, what is that except to be in love with the moon and try to take it between your teeth?”

• Once again, we must conclude that it is impossible to completely separate the cultural history of desire between women from friendship; not that it is “all the same thing,” but that it is in the vast territory where they overlap that the most interesting works are written.

• Here follows a paragraph of tongue-in-cheek circumlocution, beginning with “What she said or did88 there I have never been able to ascertain, though I have done the most conscientious research.”

• Unlike most of her predecessors, she refuses to settle in the end for the pleasures of one gender role or one sexual preference.
I am of a third, separate sex90 which does not yet have a name…My dream, a chimera, would be to have both sexes in turn, to satisfy this dual nature. Man today, woman tomorrow, I should reserve for my lovers my loving tenderness, my submissive and devoted attentions, my softest caresses, my sad little sighs, everything which belongs to my feline, feminine nature. Then with my mistresses I should be enterprising, bold, passionate, dominant, with my hat pulled down over my ear, with the demeanour of a captain and an adventurer.

• Intreat me not6 to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.

• “Precisely because10 Victorians saw lesbian sex almost nowhere, they could embrace erotic desire between women almost everywhere.”

• Sharon Marcus finds throughout Victorian fiction “an altruistic exchange41 economy in which women do not compete for men but instead give them to each other.” Often the bewildered fellow is not even consulted, but thrown around like a hot potato.

• It is more than a little ironic that Mistress Hobart is being denounced as a lesbian rake here, when in fact she has had no luck getting any woman into her bed.

• Some accuse the ladies of sharing their male lovers, but others claim that
while the three gallants need fear no male rivals they had female rivals to contend with, and even went so far as to say that, having been accepted only for the sake of appearances, they had acquired a title without a function.

• This mysterious bond between the three ladies offends the all-conquering Prévan—not because of its perversity, we gather (since rakes are not prudish), but because it excludes men, or worse, sets them up as merely puppet rulers.

• But Brockden Brown—a Gothic novelist of Quaker background and distinctly feminist views—goes well beyond Richardson in spelling out what is at stake in a duel between obsessed rake and devoted lady. The narrator, Sophia, and her childhood companion Constantia have been out of touch for more than three years, when, despite being newly married to Courtland, Sophia leaves him in England and comes back to America on a quest to find her friend. She hopes to persuade Constantia to return with her, but if not, it is Sophia’s “inflexible purpose16 to live and to die with her” in America, and Courtland will just have to “wait patiently” till he finds out in which country this three-way marriage will take place.

• Without ever naming31 Verena’s relationship with Olive as sexual, he portrays it as profoundly unimportant, and “morbid”—which is one of those words (like sentimental, intense, languid, and dangerous) often used as code for lesbian in the late nineteenth century.

• “And this is all that separates us,” said Jacques, in a tone of entire amazement. “Only a woman?”
Enid spells it out as clearly as she can: “I have chosen my life and I love it.”

• And there is an interesting moment of authorial self-consciousness: after all Enid’s patient encouragement, Sylvia manages to publish a novel, and plans a second one which features a heroine based on Enid but whom Sylvia will marry off because “the public are more used to it.” Enid quips: “But sometimes, Sylvia, I don’t marry, even in novels.”

• Tony the mannish lady sculptor glumly donates the farmhouse to the happy couple, and exits wailing that she is “a hundred years46 ahead of my time.”

• Marjorie Garber51 argues persuasively that in narratives such as The Fox the triangle52 is not an interruption of an erotic relationship but the source of that eroticism. Jealousy generates desire, and therefore plot; it takes a static situation and turns up the heat.

• It was said to have been the result of Musset’s accepting a bet that he could not write an erotic novel without obscene words; it took him just three days, so the story goes, and he based the character of his Countess Gamiani on his lover George Sand. But it seems more likely that he really borrowed her from Sade, since this aristocratic “wild beast”21 has a repertoire that includes nuns, monks, whips, dogs, and dildos that ejaculate hot milk (a popular eighteenth-century notion, though unfortunately no examples survive in museums).

• Readers hoping for at least a hint of a lesbian ape rape scene must have been disappointed; all the gallant Hendrika does is cook Stella tasty meals.

• Interestingly, Dalgliesh figures out the complex affiliations in the closed world of Shroud for a Nighingale only with the help of his informants and friends, the birdlike Miss Beale and the sturdy Miss Burrows, who have spent their adult lives in mutual devotion, each convinced that her partner is an exceptional nurse: “The happiest marriages,”25 P. D. James jokes urbanely, “are sustained by such comforting illusions.”

• Often, in rivals stories such as Henry James’s The Bostonians (1886), it is not a gentle drifting apart but a forcible parting by a man who comes to separate the innocently homoerotic sheep from the neurotically lesbian goat.

• Jean Blanzart wrote loftily that “the biggest mistake52 would be to think that what we have here is a banal lesbian affair. It is something far more unusual, far purer and far greater.” As we have seen before, it is traditional to insist that a lesbian-themed story one likes is not about lesbianism at all.

• And she calls Stephen’s grand gesture of renouncing Mary for Mary’s own good absurd: “For God’s sake59 keep the girl, and get what happiness you can out of life.”

• “She doesn’t know where she came from and your guess is as good as mine.” He offers her seduction technique as a model to husbands.
It is a delight to watch Martha work. Detail! The girl is past-mistress of detail and nuance. It is a fortunate thing for the few of us men left in the metropolitan area that all dykes are not as gifted and intelligent as was Mrs Viborg. She had a different appeal for every different kind of woman she sought, and she knew exactly when the laying-on-of-hands was permissible.

• The butch-femme romance is not necessarily realistic, since there is little evidence in the historical record of visibly gender-polarized lesbian couples before the late nineteenth century, and they do not seem to have been the norm except in the 1950s and ’60s.

• Having one’s orientation identified in words is almost inevitably presented as traumatic. In Sybille Bedford’s A Compass Error (1968), for instance, an older woman throws the “terms”89 at the seventeen-year-old heroine like knives.
“Is your mother aware of your…deviationist tastes? Don’t frown. I can use other terms, there is quite a choice, classical, medical, contemporary. Let’s try if you’ve heard of any of them.” She did. “You don’t like that one? Does your mother know that it applies to you? Answer me!”
“I don’t think I knew myself.”
Here, the words are all the more potent because Bedford does not write them down: readers will insert the labels they dread the most.

• Yes, like all writing and even more than most, writing about desire between women is derivative (or, put more positively, intertextual).

• 35. Cowley’s play: The best example is a joke about “a flat bargaine” (alluding to a slang phrase for lesbian sex, “the game of flats”) in Richard Brome, The Mad Couple Well Matched [1653], in The Dramatic Works (London: John Pearson, 1873), 1:1–99 (96).

• 35. But I believe: Compare Maeve Binchy’s economical story “Holland Park” (in Victoria Line, Central Line, 1980), in which the narrator—appalled when she and her friend are mistaken for a lesbian couple by ostentatiously liberal hosts of a party—then realizes that she is in love with her friend after all.

• Brigid Brophy’s The Finishing School (1963) hilariously reprises elements of both Olivia and The Children’s Hour: when rumors of lesbianism at a Riviera boarding school hit the papers, some pupils are withdrawn from the school, but new ones make a point of applying.

• For some reason, the more recent lesbian baby boom (including birth and adoption) has not produced a great deal of fiction or drama yet. Notable exceptions are the Dykes to Watch Out For graphic novels (from 1986), by that Dickens of lesbian life, Alison Bechdel.

[Stef Rozitis · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a really wonderful book, Donaghue has obviously rea many lesbian novels and stories. I appreciated the analysis and the nuanced understanding that "positive" and "negative" portrayals are not so polar or uncomplicated but that there are social issues around the writing of a novel and in fact the "positive" features were surprisingly common even where the heorines come to a bad end.

While it was good to see so many novels (and short stories) that I hadn't read or even heard of it was even more exciting to read about ones I had read- the well of loneliness, the friendly young ladies, sarah waters books, Olivia and of course ruby fruit jungle that Emma Donoghue's novel helped me to see more in than I had. I wouldn't mind reading a more detailed analysis by her of one of these.

I was disappointed by the chapter on detective fiction only because that's the genre I am most likely to take on as recommendations and the chapter abounded in spoilers. I'm not sure how I can expect the author to do a decentliterally criticism without spoilers but just for the detective stories (where twists are everything) I wish it was just a list of what to read and then a secret sealed section you only read after you've read all the books. I have a good memory too which is unfortunate...even though that made me sad I don't really expect authors to pander to me in this.

I love that the ending hit back at claims that lesbian novels are a bit crap or derivative or play into heterosexual narratives. I mean sometimes it annoys me that even a queer imagination is tethered to the white picket fences of heteronormativity but also I read lesbian romances for fun (sometimes they irritate me but often I genuinely enjoy them). I think Donoghue is right to look for the interesting subversive elements in books over the centuries rather than being as dismissing of them as I probably would be with many.

I read this book for relaxation and enjoyed it as much as reading fiction. It's sometimes knowing or snarky tone was well worth it, but I think it was a respectful book all the same.

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have attended two writer festivals where Emma Donoghue has spoken and was impressed with her knowledge, insights, and sense of humour. I must say that the topic covered in “Inseparable” is not one I have thought about or even considered much before I became aware of the book which is an analysis of the various forms of desire which exists between women in literature. Donoghue identifies six different forms or categories of female desire and offers a chapter for each which is very thorough and incisive. Some of her selected texts are well known and some are more esoteric.

One of the strengths of Donoghue is her style. Her prose is crisp and clear, her commentary thorough but never pedantic, and there is always a glint in her writing that keeps the reader’s attention. As a person who has enjoyed reading my entire life I found this book both challenging and fascinating. It was a challenging book because I confronted many references to texts and characters that made me pause and reconsider my own focus and thoughts about the book in question. I found the book fascinating because there were many references to books and short stories I had never heard of but now sit in my “To be read” list.

I think it is important for all readers to confront their own conformation bias in reading. I believe that the broader the scope of our background when approaching a book - or life itself - the richer our experience will be.

[Jay · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5, really. It was okay. It's an interesting history with a lot of work behind it, but not nearly as good or fun a read as I'd hoped.

Clearly a great deal of research went into this, and it covered a lot of stories I had never even heard of, as well as a number of classics. So some parts were very interesting, especially whenever something positive cropped up in the deluge of death and suffering. It would have been nice for a little more insight into the cultures and events shaping the stories detailed -- some things are mentioned here and there, but not as much as I would have liked.

Additionally, there were many times it felt glaring to have little to no word of a possible bi or trans reading of some texts. (In fact, bisexuality comes up by name exactly twice in the book, each time right next to the word "promiscuous." Really???) She also has a love of Sarah Water's books, and is largely unbothered by tragedy dominating lgbtq fiction so long as the characters are good/memorable enough. Definitely severe differences in taste and opinion there, so I was wary (and weary, in the case of Waters) of the author's personal praise for anything unless I also saw an excerpt or summary that appealed to me.

[Nore · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a very interesting read, academic but not dense, and almost obnoxiously well-researched - I came out of it with a reading list a mile long. I'm never going to get through all of these (and some of the older ones aren't even available; imagine my suffering).

However, have you ever read a book and hated it so much that it taints everything in contact with it? Donoghue apparently loves Sarah Waters, the author of Tipping the Velvet, and I hated Tipping the Velvet so very much for the bland characterization and plodding pacing. Every Waters book I've tried to read has been the same, so to sit through Donoghue praising her transcendent storytelling was painful.

I also found a few of Donoghue's conclusions to be a bit of a stretch, shall we say - particularly the bit about Shirley Jackson's ghost story being about a secret lesbian friend. What if the evil was your friend all along, ooooh, frightening, right? Given what I've read of Shirley Jackson, I don't buy it.

A good read, though. If nothing else, read it for the books you'll discover through it.

[Catherine · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's a Donoghue book, so saying that it's well-written is simply redundant. Where she lost me a bit, though, was in the examples that she chose. I found the "Monsters" chapter fairly weak, largely due to the exclusion of works with supernatural elements, which I thought would have given a much broader scope for her discussion. I was also somewhat baffled by the timelines and lack of historical reference points; reading fads change because external events influence them. So, all in all, not the book I was hoping to read. However, I think that if you were looking for a decent intro to what depictions of women's samesex desire looked like over time, this would be a good intro. If you're looking for great Donoghue, though, I'd recommend her fiction before this book.

[Summer · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really good and insightful overview of the history and themes of stories about lesbians. I'll be looking up some of the stories that were mentioned.

[Thesincouch · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was phenomenal. It felt like a very comprehensive class in desire between women in literature. Donoghue has a very engaging style, like the best professors have. I was completely riveted and kind of wanted to take notes but I own the book so I don't have to. Obviously I got a lot more books I want to read now and books that I now see different. Obviously it's great to know that desire between women goes way further in time that people assume and this thing with the older generation doesn't exist. Like there have always been gay people, you are just being homophobic.

Anyways, this was amazing, new favourite book, I wish Donoghue had written more literary non-fiction.

[Caitlin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent overview of the way desire between women in literature has evolved. Adding a number of books to my TBR as well! For research.

[Julie Bozza · Rating 5 out of 5]

A thorough look at the subject, told in a friendly, occasionally amusing tone that makes it a pleasure to read. Recommended!

[Ellisnoblebooks · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quando si parla di letteratura queer, specialmente quando si parla di storie d'amore, il più delle volte si parla di quelle con uomini protagonisti, di cui si possono trovare esempi fin dall'Iliade. Ma per le storie d'amore fra donne, il pensiero generale è che dopo Saffo, nessuno abbia più scritto niente fino all'Ottocento. Ed è partendo da questo presupposto che Emma Donoghue ha scritto questo saggio, dimostrando che in ogni epoca si è parlato del desiderio e dell'amore fra donne, ma essendo spesso definito come 'amor impossibilis' per la possibilità che sfociasse in un rapporto sessuale (inteso come ancora oggi viene considerato vivendo in una società fallocentrica), molte storie d'amore sono state fatte passare per storie di amicizia o come allegorie per qualcosa di più alto; tuttavia, in alcuni casi, l'amore fra donne è stato addirittura elogiato per offrire un esempio di relazione egualitaria tra persone che, in virtù dell'appartenenza allo stesso genere biologico, potevano sviluppare un rapporto migliore rispetto a quello fra uomo-donna.
È stata una lettura estiva molto interessante, anche se l'unico difetto è che nello spiegare le diverse modalità in cui l'amore fra donne è stato raccontato (dalla donna travestita da uomo e viceversa che conquista un cuore femminile, alla donna trasformata in mostro per il suo desiderio contro natura fino alle moderne storie di coming out) spesso diventa un elenco delle trame dei romanzi e racconti che alla lunga può rallentare la lettura, anche se sfido a non ritrovarvi con una lunga lista di letture da recuperare, che però consiglio vivamente a chi voglia conoscere maggiormente questa tematica.

[Clementine · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very cool and engaging history of lesbian representation in literature, with some surprising examples. It's worth noting that this is very much a history of Western literary traditions, and it doesn't go into the twenty-first century. (I suspect because representation tends to be much more straightforward and less subtextual these days.) Donoghue's academic background is clear, though this is an accessible popular text. This is an important work in making visible the histories that have been hidden from us.

[Hesper · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm petty and salty, so I'm docking a star for the exactly two mentions of bisexuality being paired with "promiscuous." It is otherwise an engaging (Western) wlw lit survey, although I was hoping it had a broader acknowledgement of and engagement with bisexuality, especially as some of the cited examples beyond the two mentioned above suggested that reading as more appropriate to the characters involved. But no; "desire between women" comes in exactly one flavor, apparently.

[Zoe · Rating 4 out of 5]

It took nearly a year for me to get through this, but I’m glad I made the effort to finish. Once we got to more modern titles that I recognized, the reading got easier, but I genuinely appreciated the dissection of lesbian literature’s lineage. And when the author let her own humor and personality color the text, I found it easier to comprehend the context.

[Hughesie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some sections were interesting, but overall it read too much like a list of books and plot synopses for me. The physical paperback edition I have is annoyingly proportioned and not actually all that easy, or particularly nice to sit and read.

[Howard · Rating 4 out of 5]

Unrecognized History - Donoghue's somewhat academic but very interesting view of the desire between women in literature

How were women's relationships depicted in plays, dramas, poetry, and novels before the 21st Century? In "Inseparable: Desire Between Women in Literature," Emma Donoghue reveals that, although rarely pointed out, authors have shown "desire between women" as accidental, mildly erotic, predatory, thoughtful, and, of course, lusty and lesbian. Both male and female authors of diverse sexual orientations have acknowledged these desires, making the attraction between women an identifiable plot point for the last 1000 years.

Donoghue's well researched book defines six plot motifs and then uses a wide variety of works to demonstrate her categories. She uses well known authors (Shakespeare, Charlotte Brontë, D. H. Lawerence, and Virginia Woolf); less well read but identifiable authors (Chaucer, Ovid in translation, Wilkie Collins, and Anthony Trollope), and some obscure authors (you'll have your own list of authors to research) to round out her categories. I liked this book because it was scholarly but made its arguments with non-academic prose, but I recognize that "Inseparable" is not an easy read and, because of its breadth of knowledge, can sometimes seem to wander.

Emma Donoghue was born in Ireland, educated in Ireland and England, and now lives in Canada. She is a novelist, short story writer, playwright, and literary historian. Among her many novels are the popular "Slammerkin" (which takes places in the mid-1700's), the well reviewed "The Sealed Letter" (which takes place in the 1860's), and the contemporary novel "Room," which was short-listed for the 2010 Man Booker Prize and is currently a best seller. Her historical analysis "Inseparable" was published last year before Room exploded into popular consciousness.

After a short introduction, the six main chapters of "Inseparable" describe and offer examples of different types of desire between women.

Chapter One, "Travesties," shows examples of cross-dressing that result in unintentional same-sex desire. When women cross-dress, she calls the effect "The Female Bridegroom" (think Yentl). When men cross dress, the result is "The Male Amazon" (think Tootsie). Because much of this chapter relies on her earliest sources, such as translations of Ovid, much of the discussion requires lengthy plot descriptions that can obscure some of the most interesting information.

Chapter Two, "Inseparables," portrays the situation when two passionate friends must struggle to stay together. She begins with an eye-opening analysis of the Biblical story of Ruth. A major topic of this chapter centers on jealousies, including cases when two close women are turned into rivals and one woman allows the other to join a man in marriage.

Chapter Three, "Rivals," covers the situation when both a man and a woman compete for a woman's heart. This investigation includes Choderlos de Laclos' "Dangerous Liaisons" and Henry James' "The Bostonians."

Chapter Four, "Monsters," describes relationships in which a wicked woman tries to seduce and destroy an innocent woman, including sex fiends and unknown enemies. This discussion also includes ghosts and Joseph Sheridan le Fanu's "Carmilla," who turns out to be a vampire.

Chapter Five, "Detection," includes examples of female detectives and cases when the discovery of a crime turns out to be a same-sex desire. The authors presented in this chapter include Agatha Christie and Sarah Waters (with whom Donoghue shares a number of interesting characteristics, as they are both British and often write heavily researched historical novels with lesbian themes).

Chapter Six, "Out," outlines plots in which a woman's life is changed when she realizes that she loves her own sex. Unlike some of the earlier chapters, most of these stories are (out of historical necessity) modern. This chapter includes enlightening discussions of Lillian Hellman's "The Children's Hour" and Patricia Highsmith's "The Price of Salt."

Each chapter includes several interesting illustrations, taken from books and book jackets, that add to the textual examples and offer pleasant fuel to keep the academic tone at bay.

For general readers, I highly recommend Donoghue's historical lesbian-themed novels "Slammerkin" and "The Sealed Letter," as well as her imaginative new novel "Room." For readers looking for an interesting but slightly academic history of women's desires in literature, "Inseparable" offers a clear view to which you can add your own examples. After you've read it, you'll pull "Inseparable" off the shelf, either physically or mentally, to identify the previously unrecognized varieties of women's relationships and passions that continue to appear in novels, movies, and TV shows today.

[Alexandra · Rating 5 out of 5]

I breezed through this book!

Emma Donoghue's style is witty and approachable, and I love how she partitioned her analysis of lesbian narratives through six of the most broad and applicable same-sex tropes (. It's an organizational system that works well for her expansive survey and helps tie together fiction from 800 BC to the 1980s. So little changes. Donoghue shows us that women have always loved women, even though writers may avoid that fact or even actively disagree with and deride it. She also discusses some of the gender panic and confusion about women's roles/identities--topics that are inextricable from discussions of female sexuality. Inseparable is well worth a read if you want to expand your LGBTQ reading list or learn a little more about the queer women of antiquity.

[sophie ✨ · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a really excellent, really validating exploration of love between women in fiction. While it's scholarly in nature, the author does a great job of tone, and interjecting her own little comments that make the work even more insightful. The whole time I kept thinking of F/F ships I love and trying to classify them into the categories she posits here! (For example, Eve/Villanelle from Killing Eve are probably monsters/rivals, and Max/Chloe from Life is Strange are definitely in the "inseparables" category.)

I recommend this to anyone who wants a deep dive into vibrant lesbian history that gets overlooked easily, and who wants to pick up a few more book recommendations along the way!

[Andrea · Rating 3 out of 5]

so I finally finished this one... it's a thesis..well argumented one...about relationships between women in literature and how this topis evolved..
author shows that such relationships were common even in the time of Shakespeare, in his works and even sooner... but usually only hinted not plainly spoked about... she summarized usual themes of these relationships and shows examples in various books by various authors... all proved by quotes from books or reviews...
good job done summarizing all of this and showing that woman-woman relationships (and passion) is really not a novelty..
plus, it gives a nice to-read list :-)

[Amaranta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Te quiero mucho Emma Donogue, perdón por juzgarte mal hace tiempo.
"Which begs the question, if literature has been full of the theme of women in love for so many centuries, then why has it so often gone unnoticed? Why is desire between women still generally
presumed to be a late-twentieth-century theme? Some of the texts I look at here have been forgotten because they did not reach many readers in the first place or because, although popular in their day, they have long since dropped out of circulation"

[Kara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading this book gave me so many books and short stories to add to my reading list, including a short story about a lesbian vampire space captain (which was just as good as Donoghue implied it would be). I have loved every book of Donoghue's that I've read and this--despite being nonfiction and very fair from my typical fare--was no exception. Well-written and with the down to earth voice typical of this author, this book did not disappoint.

[maité · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 ⭐— a brilliant work about women loving women in Western literature, from the ancient Greek mythology to late 20th century. the author organised this book by how the relationships between the women are treated in the plot lines throughout time. it's interesting to see how some of the plot lines have been reused in different centuries.

[Pioup · Rating 3 out of 5]

2017 Reading Challenge: a book with a subtitle.