Thank You for Calling the Lesbian Line

by Elizabeth Lovatt

An author creates a narrative blend of history, cultural criticism, and memoir in celebration of everyday queer women, based on a lesbian helpline that existed in North London in the nineties.

With warmth and humour, Elizabeth Lovatt reimagines the women who called and volunteered for the Lesbian Line in the 1990s, whilst also tracing her own journey from accidentally coming out to disastrous dates to finding her chosen family. With callers and agents alike dealing with first crushes and break-ups, sex and marriage, loneliness and illness, this is a celebration of the ordinary lives of queer women.

Through these revelations of the complexities, difficulties and revelries of everyday life, Lovatt investigates the ethics of writing about queer 'sheros' and the role living-history plays in the way we live today. What do we owe to our lesbian forebears? What can we learn from them when facing racism, transphobia and ableism in the community today?

Steeped in pop culture references and feminist and queer theory, Thank You for Calling the Lesbian Line is a timely and vital exploration of how lesbian identity continues to remake and redefine itself in the 21st century, and where it might lead us in the future.

Genres: Nonfiction, Queer, LGBT, History, Lesbian, Feminism, Audiobook

272 pages, Hardcover

First published February 6, 2025

Reviews

[Elizabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

Look, I read my own book about four times this year so I think it's okay to count at least one of those in my Good Reads challenge right?

Yes, I'm rating it 5* shhhh - I worked really hard on this book and I hope readers like it too!

[₊˚✧SJ✧˚₊ · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a compelling book that I found insightful and educational. A book that highlights the need for LGBTIQ visibility and representation in all forms of media. A book that focuses on the importance of queer stories and experiences being heard, told, shared and viewed.

[Kay · Rating 3 out of 5]

"To read the logbook is to eavesdrop on a conversation I was never meant to hear," Elizabeth Lovatt writes in the second chapter of the first part of this book on lesbian hotlines. I wonder, then, what drove her to publish this book, which contains some deeply personal, yet also, admittedly, insightful stories? On the one hand, this book sheds light on a mostly forgotten aspect of queer history; on the other, its existence in its current form, with its shoddy execution, is something that doesn't sit well with me. I commend Lovatt for taking care to change callers' and telephone operators' names and to seemingly remove some of the more blatant identifying details, but I can't help but feel like we're peeking in through a number of windows we shouldn't be. Additionally, while Lovatt is an excellent writer, her understanding of archives and history is appallingly limited; one detail in particular that rubbed me, as an archivist and historian, the wrong way, was the way she tried to claim that calling the archival record of these logs a "special collection" was a form of discrimination. It isn't! "Special collection" is just what ANY collection in a special collections library (another name for an archive) is called! Calling it a "special collection" is the same as calling it a "box" or a "folder." The word "special" doesn't imply anything about the source itself, or its origins. The letters of an old, white, male politician could be considered a "special collection" simply because it is a collection housed within a special collections library; the only implication there is that only the library or archive in which you find yourself has this exact collection of materials. The contents of this book are important to consider, but perhaps their consideration could have been handled with greater care, by someone who actually knew what they were talking about, and perhaps at a later date (i.e. at a more respectful time, after the women discussed within the logs had passed and therefore could no longer be identified).

Thank you to NetGalley for providing me with an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[Phoe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank You For Calling The Lesbian Line is not a history book, nor a memoir, nor a retelling or commentary; instead, it is a commingling of all these things into a narrative that is compelling, informative, and unflinching.

Whilst laced with tenderness and humour, Lovatt does not shy away from difficult topics, and by sharing her own truths and snippets of lives immortalised through the logbooks she draws out insights both sharp and beautiful. I had to put the book down on a few occasions to absorb properly. I will also be getting a hardback to tab and annotate as I have read this proof to the point of it falling apart.

Not just for lesbian, or even queer readers: this tells a story about strength and community, of how we record our histories, finding our identities and seating where we are culturally in a way that can resonate with anyone - whilst also feeling very much like a touchstone to being a lesbian in 90s London.

P.S. Read the footnotes, you will not regret. I howled.

[bianca · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 i enjoyed the historical part of this but it lost me a bit when it went too much into memoir/commentary on contemporary lesbian culture territory - i felt like it was trying to do too much at once. i am already familiar with what lesbian culture is like in 2025. i am reading the book for the historical context so those parts just felt a bit redundant at times.

[Meg Parrott · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5

I think it’s a bit of a stretch to say this book is about the lesbian lines of London when about 20% of this book at a maximum was about them. There are so many questions left unanswered - there’s no indication of what these places looked like, how they operated really, day to day runnings, how they were founded in the first place, the volunteers themselves. There’s probably only about 8 lines of quote in the whole near 400 page book from volunteers. Granted, the nature of the lines and their mission especially at the time of being mean there may not be loads of information, but begs the question why a book, especially as big as this, would come to existence in the first place if so? Kinda felt like the lines were a secondary small plot line.

With that, there was so much description that was surface level and kinda unnecessary. It felt like these were two books in one. So, the editing fell short for me and I didn’t really feel like I left having learnt much at all. Structurally, random logs being included were interesting to read but being random, didn’t include much overall and added to my feeling of incoherence.

With that, Lovatt is hilarious and personable. I liked reading about her personal experiences. She’s a wonderful narrator. As inclusion and openness goes, this book is as good as it gets. Huge props to her for this and for uplifting the breadth of our community and for being on the right side of history.

But yeah, could and should have been so much better than it was for me! A bit gutted

[Wouter van Noort · Rating 4 out of 5]

Phew, this was a hard one, not just because of its length, but because it’s so emotional. The book shows the incredible work of the volunteers who ran these phone lines and the community they built. I can't imagine being queer in the 20th century, especially with Thatcher’s Section 28 in place. You would think we would have come a lot further since then, but a Lesbian (or queer in general) Line is arguably just as necessary in this day and age. It’s a powerful reminder that having someone to talk to can truly be a lifeline.

She waits a long time for the woman on the phone to hang up, but she knows she has to be the one to say goodbye. She says thank you one last time, puts down the phone, and gets on with her life.

[Helena · Rating 2 out of 5]

This wasn't a history I was taught in school, it wasn't passed down through my family, and it wasn't on my TV or in my local museum. So despite knowing we have always been here, there persists this nagging feeling that lesbian stories are still at risk of being forgotten.

this book wasn’t what i expected it to be, and i mean that in a negative way. i thought it was going to be about the lesbian line, but it was really about the author’s late stage coming out journey and her projections onto the phone volunteers she was researching. it was really frustrating, especially once you realize that the stories about the callers are almost completely made up fictions extrapolated from her understanding of the logbooks we never get to see. i’m left frustrated, wanting to know so much more about the lesbians this book was purportedly about, and instead knowing way too much about some british millennial.

[Queralt✨ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’d waited ages for my hold on this book, and I was so excited to pick it up, but I found it disappointing. Thank You for Calling the Lesbian Line should have been a nonfiction book covering volunteer-run lesbian support lines in the UK, along with an overview of lesbian rights history. Instead, it ended up being a structurally messy account that sometimes veered into fiction, blending the author’s research on the lesbian lines, her journey of coming out, the evolution of lesbian communities with technology, and a push for inclusivity, mostly without nuance. Many parts were contradictory. At times, you’re bombarded with information about algorithms and how lesbian social media accounts get millions of views from other lesbians, only to be told shortly after that LGBTQIA+ authors are shadowbanned and will never get a million views. The structure was so messy, jumping back and forth between topics.

I feel like this book would have been more impactful 5-10 years ago. Many of the issues it raises have already been addressed multiple times. It still talks about compulsory heterosexuality, while I feel the conversation has moved on to compulsory sexuality. The constant emphasis on how gay men get more attention kind of erases the fact that, in many ways, lesbians have it better than some others.

Another confusing part was how the author addressed the gaps in records and admitted to using her imagination to fill them. Weird. I don’t see the point of this book. It felt like a Tumblr rant mixed with historical fanfiction.

One thing that annoyed me was the section on microaggressions. Like, look, I’m not saying they don’t exist. But sometimes it’s okay not to be familiar with a foreign name. Misspelling it or giving a slightly odd compliment isn’t inherently wrong. If I called the author, I wouldn’t say she was being racist if she didn’t get my name right the first time. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t spell it or pronounce it correctly, and that’s fine.

This also ties into my broader issue: the book was very English-centric and erased other linguistic contexts. I assume that’s because she couldn’t do research on those, but considering she used her imagination to fill in other gaps, that could’ve been something worth addressing.

[Sonja · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very interesting read about the London Lesbian hotline. It turns out to be a lesbian history interspersed with personal stories from the lesbian line logbook. This hotline idea began in the 1970s and ended in 1999.
“Lesbian stories are still at the risk of being forgotten.” And this is one way of preserving them from erasure.
Because of the patriarchal structure we live under there is no way of tracking lesbian births, deaths, and relationships or “lived gender identity.” In this time there is a danger of losing our history.
I really appreciated Elizabeth Lovatt’s thoroughness in this book. She discussed the importance of supporting transgender people and the assertion that it will make it easier for all to be themselves. We have to be careful about “defining womanhood from a heteropatriarchal, colonial mindset.”
Lovatt also brought into the conversation the problem of lesbians of color in white spaces, a subject that is almost never touched on. The discussion on South Asian lesbians was also very worth reading.
Michelle Tea’s quote is worth keeping in mind: “the purpose and point of our political writings, our personal struggles [is] not to change the world that can’t or won’t be changed. It’s to leave traces of ourselves for others to hold on to, a lifetime of solidarity that spans times, that passes on strength like a baton from person to person, from generation to generation.”

[rie · Rating 4 out of 5]

i thought this was gonna be a totally fictionalized book about working at a lesbian phone line in the 90s (and i still would like to see that) but i’m not completely disappointed by what i got instead! so many fun historical insights and recommendations of things that would be fun to check out as someone interested in archiving lesbian history and media. i do wish there was less contemporary stuff and more chat logs ngl…but overall a fun, easy, informative read! i love lesbians!

[Remi · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 Part historical, part memoir, part contemporary. I wish it leaned a little more into the historical case. The lesbian phone line is fascinating, but I understand talking about how today's internet community is the progression of the phone line.

[WhatMichaelaReads]

Memoir/historical/essay mash up - trying to do too much.

Questionable ethics?!

[Suzanna3 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Love!!! I thought this was really awesome. Some fave quotes below. All of it isn’t about the phone lines, so if you’re looking for a true history of the phone lines, this isn’t it. This more used the phone lines as a conduit to talk about general queer history and identity!

“There is a tendency whenever you are writing about a facet of your identity, particularly if it is one that is marginalized in some way, to overthink everything. Was wanting to write about lesbian history because I was a lesbian an unbearable cliché? Was it embarrassing? Even now I find myself afraid to say exactly what it is that I am so interested in: to my friends, to the archivist, to myself even. And it is that very reticence that urges me on. So let me say it now: What I am interested in is lesbians. There's no need to play it cool. I think lesbians are worthy of our attention. I want to tell their stories, and I think they need to be heard, not just for me but for others, too. And to do that I need to share their stories, to lift them up above the noise of the world, at least for a moment.”

“…Queerness required me to throw legible futures out the win-dow." Shapland identifies that to be queer, but especially to be a lesbian, requires seeing a different future, outside of heteropatriarchy, And with a dearth of happy lesbians from history, a leap of imagination is required to get there. I like this idea that lesbianism is tied to imagination and throwing off the foreseeable future to embrace the unknown. A creative necessity bom out of a constraint that makes us seek out a future that others can't even envision.”

“Mallory, the protagonist of Eley Williams's novel The Liar's Dictionary, sums this feeling up well when she ponders why she is not "out" to the world: "It's not interesting. It is interesting. It shouldn't define me. It definitely should."'' Mallory is an intern at Swanby's dictionary, which, despite its long and illustrious history, remains incomplete. She is someone deeply concerned with the meaning of words and the uneasy tension between exact definitions and language's changeable nature.”

“In an interview for Radical History Review, Karl Peder Pedersen, the archivist at the Danish Gay and Lesbian Archive, suggests that the queer archive is another kind of chosen family, which can supplant the traditional family unit.' Artifacts or material that in a straight" inheritance pass down to children are instead entrusted to a queer archive, which is then passed on ta the next generation, transforming queer archives, even within institutions, into familial and intergenerational spaces. I like this image of an inheritance that is parent and child both. This is reflected in the physical space of queer archives also, which can blur the distinction between home and institution, like the Lesbian herstory Archives (LFA) in New York, which was first housed in the apartment of two of the co-founders, Joan Nestle and her then partner Deborah Edel. Eventually their collection of lesbian "herstory” became so large that they had to raise funds to purchase another house to contain the still expanding archive. This building remains a space that straddles home and archive, with a photocopier in the kitchen and a bathroom full of archival clutter. Their focus on collecting the ordinary, everyday objects that make up a lesbian life and an openness to donations ensures that it stays close to its grassroots while attempting to capture lesbian life as it changes. Its inheritance is found not in the individual but in the collective as it passes on to the next generation. Nestle and the LHA are ensuring their survival by aloving the archive to be a fluid, intimate collection, open to all who might need to access it- a mother and child to all lesbians.”

Lesbians are everything 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[Denise Ruttan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Part memoir, part cultural history, Thank You for Calling the Lesbian Line is quite unlike anything I've read before and part of my effort to read more nonfiction. It tells both the story of the author's later-in-life coming out journey and personal history as a lesbian, and the story of lesbians and queer women in the U.K. finding acceptance, safety and community on a series of volunteer-run hotlines dedicated for lesbians talking to lesbians about lesbian issues in the 70s-90s.

This book has been criticized by other reviewers as feeling invasive or like a violation into the confidential phone calls of women who were scared or lonely, but I never felt that way and I'm a former journalist with high ethical standards. Since a lot of these calls were anonymous, first names only, it would be impossible to track down each of these women to ask them for their permission, and in the days of Trump America when queer identities are once again being scrubbed and criminalized from public life, it's more important and relevant than ever that this history does not stay in the dark. Privacy is important but it can also be a tool used by oppressors who want to pretend that the world is all cis and straight.

The author also explained her own fears around this issue and I support her approach. She used notes in the logbook written by volunteers, changed the names of the callers and rather than copying their stories directly, she retold their stories, mixing in her own personal history and imagining what their voice must have been like.

The call notes are also a very small part of the overarching narrative and are used to give life and color to the historical account.

I didn't know these hotlines existed so this was fun to learn about for me. A resource like this would have been huge for me in the 90s as I also had a later-in-life bisexual awakening and back then I just didn't have the words for how I was feeling or knew any other bisexuals.

The book makes important points about how the internet is vital but shouldn't replace in-person meetups for connection, feeling seen and community organizing, not just dating.

The book perhaps covers too many topics, trying to reach all the possible manifistations of being a lesbian for all women - going into race and trans issues. But I think that's also part of the point. There is not one way to be a lesbian and the phone lines tried and sometimes failed to reach people from all walks of life. The book also did not shy away from critique about how problematic these phone calls could be, and I appreciated how it did not either villify or hero worship phone volunteers.

Queer histories like these deserve to be told and I learned a lot by reading this, often seeing myself in the pages. The book also comments that the term lesbian could also include the experiences of bisexual and pansexual women loving women in a way that I found inclusive.

I suppose you could say that this book got preachy in parts but I never found it that way. It was written by a journalist with a point of view and a voice who backed up her arguments with solid research.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

[Stephen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Is this sweeping cultural history, local history, autobiography, creative non-fiction, the start of innumerable fictional short stories, or something else? It's a jumble that divided opinions at my surprisingly well-attended bookclub (we only just fitted in the room) on Lovatt's recent confection. This is like an underbaked cake: not what's intended, barely holding together, yet full of all the right ingredients so that it's still quite a tasty offering.

I volunteered at an LGBT Helpline in the early 2010s (Coventry Friend, which gets a mention) and can attest to the truth of a lot of what Lovatt writes. The sparse calls picked up towards the end of the book (covering a log book from 1993 to 1998) was even truer when I was on the line, this being the emerging smartphone era. The clutter, the handover notes, the pinboards with information, the small rented space that felt both precariously ephemeral and more grittily real than the digital domains that were taking over... Lovatt captures all of this in a sprawling meditations upon her own late-20s coming out, upon the callers and the volunteers, and upon the contexts of 1970s to 2020s LGBT experience. Like the messiness of the flyer and paperclip-strewn Friend desk, this book makes up for in richness what it lacks in methodical rigour.

I read the second half in longer stretches and I found myself increasingly enthralled at the questions Lovatt raises over community and medium. The chapters do offer topical lenses (disability, race, coming out, physical safety, the digital age) but each one whisks together lots about Lovatt herself, some fictionalised calls based on the logbook (how much is real, how much imagined, how much just Lovatt's projection?), and some dates, books and places. This frustrated some in my bookclub, who felt it was hard to tell how much Lovatt was appropriating experience to tell her own life. More than one preferred the longer sections where it was focused just on a caller like Becky, expunged of Lovatt's own life.

That said, I have at least two experiences of trying to write from limited and/or sensitive sources, similar to those drawn on by Lovatt. In one, I used the only record of a voluntary organisation (an account book) to try and piece together more about its work. In another, I was writing about personal testimonies of mental health in the 1920s and 1930s. At both extremes - distant numbers and all-too personal - the author has to work hard to demarcate what can be (safely) inferred, setting out fact, emotion and conjecture. It is the latter historical accuracy within the text itself (allowing for the notes) that Lovatt perhaps falls slightly short.

The dangers with projection are brought to life in chapters on race and disability. I think Lovatt did a good job in drawing a line, but at least one in my bookclub became actively angry at the part where Lovatt had tried to track down a disabled LGBT figure from the phone line through a separate photographic record. This could be walking on thin ice with living people, GDPR and protected characteristics. The fact the person isn't identified (and given the 'creative non-fiction almost certainly wouldn't be identified in print) is beside the point.

Perceived faults make for a good bookclub discussion, yet overall I was in the 'enjoyed' camp. Lovatt's ambition overreaches but the cakemix melange is packed with tasty truths. I appreciate the role of fiction in making up where we cannot know more, but agree with others in the group that I would rather it had been disaggregated. Most agreed that the imagined calls would make better starting points for pure fiction. I would like the logbook themes treated in a more historical way - which could be done with respect to anonymity - perhaps as a discreet chapter. The autobiographal aspects were good (the Tinder dates especially) but possibly added to the frustrating opacity of narrative that Lovatt herself admits.

A mess, but then isn't life? And a jumble of well-researched observations (excellent references), and a contribution where previously there was none(?) is far better than a void.

[Steven Benson · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my top 30 books, EVA....

Don't know here to start:

the logs (part fabricated; but what is reality?) re lesbian lives and callers on the Advice/listening line; the highlight of highlights. I worked VERY briefly on a lesbian and gay switchboard: memories flooded back, but

Lovatt also writes re that fragmented but VERY PRESENT(IF we keep delving it from hetero-cis normative stone) lesbian community (however the nomenclature is reconfigured over time).

She interweaves her semi-fictionalised Lesbian line logs with her own life; some complex form of auto-fiction/object identification; but HOW it works and SOARS.

She foregrounds intersectionality: trans lesbians, lesbians of colour; and gaymen as allies.

The "Becky rang" chapter, focussing on ONE (extrapolated and fabricated info; to protect the caller's identity{IF there ever WAS then one person called Becky!}) person is SO moving: messy and real.

The last few pages of this Herculean book are especially EPIC: a paean to lgbtq community, but LESBIAN community VERY VERY much at the centre.

This is a classic....and gives bit of faith back that a (small publisher) can issue such a fabulously hybrid(in style/genre) admixture of wonder...

"I want us to take the thousand splinters of life we are given....and make a place for dwelling" [op. cit, p.382]

[Mac · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a pretty unique and intriguing way of exploring lesbian history. As Elizabeth Lovatt notes, queer communities often aren’t afforded typical inheritances or passing down of stories and information. Through seeking out knowledge on the Lesbian Line of the 1980s-90s, Lovatt weaves in her own self-discovery and exploration of her lesbian identity through the logbooks of this helpline. Since the logbooks don’t record every last detail, Lovatt is left to imagine what was said (or unsaid) in many instances.

It’s a meeting of the personal and the history at large, with some imagination necessary to flesh the stories out further. I’d say most of this features pretty standard queer and lesbian theory but apparently based on recent events, it bears repeating! Lovatt touches on the richness and diversity of lesbian communities and how the Lesbian Line sometimes failed to meet the needs of trans lesbians, disabled lesbians, Black lesbians, and lesbians of color as many predominantly white queer spaces often do.

It’s funny and informative and many of the personal stories were relatable to me. I also appreciated gaining insight on UK lesbian history as an American myself. As even encouraged by Lovatt, this book really makes you want to further explore lesbian history. There are tons of gaps here which are acknowledged and even sometimes purposeful. There’s no way to capture one singular history for all lesbian communities but this is a nice way to commemorate those who dedicated their time to the Lesbian Line and gave so many their first sense of community and belonging. I <3 lesbians and love reading about this history. Again, when so much of it has been lost and you don’t have access to standard inheritances, this feels so important to know and cherish.

Thank you to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

[Moss · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ok so, i picked this book up because I thought it would be cool to read a history of lesbian phone lines/switchboards. But, at the end of the day, I think I’m just not the audience for this book, which is odd because I’m a lesbian, and I love to read dense, thorough, queer histories. But this book missed the mark for me- it seems the target audience is baby gays, which is all well and good, but I wonder where the overlap is between baby gay readers and readers who want a niche history of lesbian switchboards. My problem was that the book was not really a history, but a blended narrative of the authors coming out memoir and speculated histories, so it ended up being some re-invented log book entries from the phone line, along with a lot of basic information about lesbian issues/discourse. It was a lot of basic information for anyone who has been out for a long time. It seems to me that anyone wanting to read a history of lesbian phone lines would know almost all of this already, at least that’s how it felt. And therefore it seems to me that anyone who needs this information probably isn’t picking up a book about lesbian phone lines. There was too much “101” content for my taste… I don’t need to be explained to about carabiners and the L word chart and Masc lesbian stereotypes, or what the wlw hashtag is. I would have LOVED interviews with lesbians from the 70s and 80s who ran phone lines, but that’s not what this book is

[Mollie · Rating 4 out of 5]

feeling like a 3.5 but I’m rounding up, I did really enjoy this & I’m sad I’ve finished it (I am not sad about no longer having to carry the hardback copy around with me), it was very well rounded and the author had a lovely way of putting lots of things, I do wish that it focused a little more on the historical side, but I do understand why the long sections on more modern day (especially in the context of the book!!) I just found them a little bit dry - if I wanted to look at the ‘wlw tag’ on tiktok, I’d probably just open the app and look, but I do get why it’s written about in such depth

[Fanni · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ehh... ez a könyv egyáltalán nem azt hozta, amit vártam tőle. Ha esetleg azért vennétek kézbe, mert érdekelnek a leszikus telefonközpontok, hát azokról sokat nem fogtok megtudni. Cserébe elmagyarázzák neked, hogy kapcsolódik a karabiner a leszbikusokhoz, meg kaptok egy egész fejezetet a transz nők helyzetéről leszbikus terekben (that was cool btw). Abszolút nem találja a fókuszt ez a könyv, de leginkább azt, hogy kinek szól, és így viszont nagyon hullámvasút volt olvasni. Voltak részek, amiket élveztem, de sokszor meg halálra untam magam és azt sem értettem, miért kell ebben a könyvben arról olvasnom, milyen trendek vannak wlw tiktokon. Voltak igazán erős pontjai a könyvnek és imádtam az interszekcionalista nézőpontját, azt tényleg kimaxolta.

"To exist within a heterosexual world is to always be in tension with one's own status as "out". A lot of emphasis is put on coming-out stories, but often they're stories that privilege a "straight" way of thinking. As many LGBTQ+ people know, coming out is a continual process across a lifetime: to family, friends, coworkers, waitresses who ask if you're waiting for your boyfriend, hotel receptionists who check that you really did mean to book a double room, doctors who want to know how you're 100 percent certain you're not pregnant. Coming out is only necessary within a heteropatriarchal society that assumes everyone is straight and puts the onus of disclosure onto a queer person."

"Notions of "out" or "not out" offer a binary Western way of thinking, and for many queer people, globally and in the UK, this language is not useful in how their sexuality is rendered to themselves and in their relationships for a myriad of reasons."

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Elizabeth Lovatt's Thank You For Calling The Lesbian Line was right up my street; it’s a mix of creative history, as Lovatt reimagines the stories of the women who phoned the London Lesbian Line in the 1990s, and memoir, tracing Lovatt’s own slightly-late coming out at the end of her twenties and her embracing of life as a lesbian. Because I’ve taught and written about modern British queer history, most of the historical material was already familiar to me, although I did appreciate the focus on the 1990s, where historians still rarely venture. My favourite chapter considered the material culture of the logbooks: the women’s handwriting, with bubbles dotting the Is; the doodles in the margins; the notes they leave to each other. I also liked the material about lesbian communities on the early internet. This is certainly one I’d recommend, especially to newly out lesbians and/or lesbians who don’t know much about lesbian history. 3.5 stars.

[tay · Rating 3 out of 5]

i really wish i had this book while doing my dissertation. it felt so impossible to find uk lesbian history and this book is so full of it all.
i would’ve really loved a whole fictional story based on the lesbian line because at first that’s what i thought this book was.
‘i think of lesbians who never needed the lesbian line their voices lost because they was happy and knew who they were and where to go.
i think of the unspoken squeeze of the hand in public a silent nod a friendly dyke-ish glance.’
so meaningful to me
(audio book listen)

[нявчик (❁´◡`❁) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well...
Схоже в мене було трохи хибні очікування від цієї книги, бо я очікувала більш традиційної нонфікшн-структури, скажімо так. Але прикол виявився в тому, що щонайбільше 20% книги було присвячено цій же лінії для лесбійок. А так більшість книги складається з особистих історій та спогадів авторки.
Я трохи не в іноземному контексті, але почути про квірні архіви це було вау (я здивована взагалі, що таке існує). Так і не було розказано, як виглядало, наприклад таке приміщення, функціонал та може хоч хто заснував таке. Моментами це більше було схоже на есе чи особистий проєкт, ніж на повноцінне дослідження.

Зазначу, що пані Ловатт доволі весела та приємна у спілкуванні. Мені сподобалося читати про її особистий досвід. Вона чудова оповідачка. Хотілося б схожих робіт і про східну Європу з їх рівнем нетерпимості в принципі.

Трохи розчарована, але це дебют авторки, тому можу тільки привітати!

[Shy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vond het een goed boek om te lezen! Leuk om wat meer te leren over queer, met name lesbische, geschiedenis in de UK. Deels essay, deels geschiedenis, deels persoonlijke verhalen van de schrijfster. Het werkte op zich wel goed die combinatie maar soms wilde het boek misschien ook wel teveel doen. Ik was er meer voor het geschiedenis gedeelte en denk dat ik wel weet wat de lesbische cultuur anno 2025 is, dus een uitgebreid verslag over de #wlw op TikTok was voor mij een beetje lang maar ik snap waarom het zo is geschreven. Wat betreft inclusiviteit van alle verschillende lesbische identiteiten, iedereen kwam aan bod. Uiteindelijk iets te veel essay stijl voor mijn doen, maar ben blij dat ik dit heb gelezen! 3.5/5 ⭐️

[Anwen · Rating 4 out of 5]

As much of an autobiography as it is a historical narrative of the Lesbian Line that ran in the 1980s and 1990s (with the author’s own creative retelling of each log), it was a thoroughly enjoyable read from start to finish. Not only did it tackle the highlights of the Lesbian Line and the joys of the Lesbian communities and subcultures, it also highlighted its flaws and made a strong case for the inclusion on trans, intersex, and non-White women in the discourse and community-building of Lesbianism. A well-written (and quite moving) piece of work.

[Riley · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was so good that I literally saved the last five minutes for three days. I was devastated when my hold ran out, and I couldn’t finish this insane book of history, story, and the ones who came before. Absolutely beautiful to listen to and understand that my experience is not singular, but just one thread and that’s insane narrative tapestry. Not gonna lie, I don’t think about lesbians outside of the US that often. This was eye-opening, emotional, and just a really well formatted historic memoir.
One thing that I really appreciated is that highlight on disabled lesbians, and transgender lesbians. The inclusion and the blatant writing of these stories is so important and so often is left behind. This book made me feel seen.

It’s a super super long book with a lot of academic writing, but the narrative and fantastic format completely makes up for it. If you’re interested in queer theory, lesbians, or how the hell the world existed right before the Internet, this book is a must read.

[Josefine]

Sadly this was sort of a disappointing read - falling short of authors like Jenn Shapland, whom Lovat references and whose genre defying writing she's trying to emulate. The personal narrative overpowers, the actual lesbian lines are really only used as a tool and the parts concerned with British lesbian history feel superficial. Trying to do too much at once this book doesn't succeed in doing anything well and leaves me wanting instead an account of women who were actually there on the lines at the time.

[Julia · Rating 5 out of 5]

"i think of lesbians in the silences." no amount of representation will ever be enough!! queer people exist and matter!!!! also trigger warning blue is the warmest color (movie) mention so prepare for that

[Angela · Rating 4 out of 5]

We love a good microhistory. This was a really interesting book and a cool way to look at bits of the UK’s lesbian history. I listened to almost all of it while on a road trip and I only expected to listen to a few hours at a time.