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Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day
*** A Sunday Times Bestseller ***
In Queer City Peter Ackroyd looks at London in a whole new way – through the history and experiences of its gay population.
In Roman Londinium the city was dotted with lupanaria (‘wolf dens’ or public pleasure houses), fornices (brothels) and thermiae (hot baths). Then came the Emperor Constantine, with his bishops, monks and missionaries. And so began an endless loop of alternating permissiveness and censure.
Ackroyd takes us right into the hidden history of the city; from the notorious Normans to the frenzy of executions for sodomy in the early nineteenth century. He journeys through the coffee bars of sixties Soho to Gay Liberation, disco music and the horror of AIDS.
Today, we live in an era of openness and tolerance and Queer London has become part of the new norm. Ackroyd tells us the hidden story of how it got there, celebrating its diversity, thrills and energy on the one hand; but reminding us of its very real terrors, dangers and risks on the other.
'Peter Ackroyd is the greatest living chronicler of London' Independent
In Queer City Peter Ackroyd looks at London in a whole new way – through the history and experiences of its gay population.
In Roman Londinium the city was dotted with lupanaria (‘wolf dens’ or public pleasure houses), fornices (brothels) and thermiae (hot baths). Then came the Emperor Constantine, with his bishops, monks and missionaries. And so began an endless loop of alternating permissiveness and censure.
Ackroyd takes us right into the hidden history of the city; from the notorious Normans to the frenzy of executions for sodomy in the early nineteenth century. He journeys through the coffee bars of sixties Soho to Gay Liberation, disco music and the horror of AIDS.
Today, we live in an era of openness and tolerance and Queer London has become part of the new norm. Ackroyd tells us the hidden story of how it got there, celebrating its diversity, thrills and energy on the one hand; but reminding us of its very real terrors, dangers and risks on the other.
'Peter Ackroyd is the greatest living chronicler of London' Independent
247 pages, ebook
First published May 25, 2017
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5704 people want to read
About the author
Peter Ackroyd
190 books1,501 followersPeter Ackroyd CBE is an English novelist and biographer with a particular interest in the history and culture of London.
Peter Ackroyd's mother worked in the personnel department of an engineering firm, his father having left the family home when Ackroyd was a baby. He was reading newspapers by the age of 5 and, at 9, wrote a play about Guy Fawkes. Reputedly, he first realized he was gay at the age of 7.
Ackroyd was educated at St. Benedict's, Ealing and at Clare College, Cambridge, from which he graduated with a double first in English. In 1972, he was a Mellon Fellow at Yale University in the United States. The result of this fellowship was Ackroyd's Notes for a New Culture, written when he was only 22 and eventually published in 1976. The title, a playful echo of T. S. Eliot's Notes Towards the Definition of Culture (1948), was an early indication of Ackroyd's penchant for creatively exploring and reexamining the works of other London-based writers.
Ackroyd's literary career began with poetry, including such works as London Lickpenny (1973) and The Diversions of Purley (1987). He later moved into fiction and has become an acclaimed author, winning the 1998 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for the biography Thomas More and being shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1987.
Ackroyd worked at The Spectator magazine between 1973 and 1977 and became joint managing editor in 1978. In 1982 he published The Great Fire of London, his first novel. This novel deals with one of Ackroyd's great heroes, Charles Dickens, and is a reworking of Little Dorrit. The novel set the stage for the long sequence of novels Ackroyd has produced since, all of which deal in some way with the complex interaction of time and space, and what Ackroyd calls "the spirit of place". It is also the first in a sequence of novels of London, through which he traces the changing, but curiously consistent nature of the city. Often this theme is explored through the city's artists, and especially its writers.
Ackroyd has always shown a great interest in the city of London, and one of his best known works, London: The Biography, is an extensive and thorough discussion of London through the ages.
His fascination with London literary and artistic figures is also displayed in the sequence of biographies he has produced of Ezra Pound (1980), T. S. Eliot (1984), Charles Dickens (1990), William Blake (1995), Thomas More (1998), Chaucer (2004), William Shakespeare (2005), and J. M. W. Turner. The city itself stands astride all these works, as it does in the fiction.
From 2003 to 2005, Ackroyd wrote a six-book non-fiction series (Voyages Through Time), intended for readers as young as eight. This was his first work for children. The critically acclaimed series is an extensive narrative of key periods in world history.
Early in his career, Ackroyd was nominated a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1984 and, as well as producing fiction, biography and other literary works, is also a regular radio and television broadcaster and book critic.
In the New Year's honours list of 2003, Ackroyd was awarded the CBE.
Peter Ackroyd's mother worked in the personnel department of an engineering firm, his father having left the family home when Ackroyd was a baby. He was reading newspapers by the age of 5 and, at 9, wrote a play about Guy Fawkes. Reputedly, he first realized he was gay at the age of 7.
Ackroyd was educated at St. Benedict's, Ealing and at Clare College, Cambridge, from which he graduated with a double first in English. In 1972, he was a Mellon Fellow at Yale University in the United States. The result of this fellowship was Ackroyd's Notes for a New Culture, written when he was only 22 and eventually published in 1976. The title, a playful echo of T. S. Eliot's Notes Towards the Definition of Culture (1948), was an early indication of Ackroyd's penchant for creatively exploring and reexamining the works of other London-based writers.
Ackroyd's literary career began with poetry, including such works as London Lickpenny (1973) and The Diversions of Purley (1987). He later moved into fiction and has become an acclaimed author, winning the 1998 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for the biography Thomas More and being shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1987.
Ackroyd worked at The Spectator magazine between 1973 and 1977 and became joint managing editor in 1978. In 1982 he published The Great Fire of London, his first novel. This novel deals with one of Ackroyd's great heroes, Charles Dickens, and is a reworking of Little Dorrit. The novel set the stage for the long sequence of novels Ackroyd has produced since, all of which deal in some way with the complex interaction of time and space, and what Ackroyd calls "the spirit of place". It is also the first in a sequence of novels of London, through which he traces the changing, but curiously consistent nature of the city. Often this theme is explored through the city's artists, and especially its writers.
Ackroyd has always shown a great interest in the city of London, and one of his best known works, London: The Biography, is an extensive and thorough discussion of London through the ages.
His fascination with London literary and artistic figures is also displayed in the sequence of biographies he has produced of Ezra Pound (1980), T. S. Eliot (1984), Charles Dickens (1990), William Blake (1995), Thomas More (1998), Chaucer (2004), William Shakespeare (2005), and J. M. W. Turner. The city itself stands astride all these works, as it does in the fiction.
From 2003 to 2005, Ackroyd wrote a six-book non-fiction series (Voyages Through Time), intended for readers as young as eight. This was his first work for children. The critically acclaimed series is an extensive narrative of key periods in world history.
Early in his career, Ackroyd was nominated a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1984 and, as well as producing fiction, biography and other literary works, is also a regular radio and television broadcaster and book critic.
In the New Year's honours list of 2003, Ackroyd was awarded the CBE.
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December 27, 2018
Ackroyd is a prolific and thorough writer, novelist and biographer. He has written other histories of London, including ones on the Thames and the underground of London (not just the tube). This is about the history through the ages of the gay population of London. There is an issue of terms: to use gay, queer, homosexual. Ackroyd settles for queer to cover the whole range of topics he covers.
There is a plethora of facts and stories assembled by Ackroyd; some are funny, hilarious even, others heartrendingly sad. He drags up some of the most unlikely names: Constable Obert Pert and a seller of trinkets called Samuel Drybutter. Facts such as the late Tudor name for a dildo (or at least one of them) is a shuttlecock. I don’t think I’m going to look at the game of badminton in the same way again! It was also interesting to discover that in the seventeenth century there was a male brothel on the site of Buckingham Palace.
One fascinating aspect of the journey through history here is the breadth, depth and luxuriance of the language used over the ages. We meet words like: catamite, sapphist, ingle, pathic, mollie, jemmy, tribade, tommy, indorser, fribble and madge. We also meet a vast array of characters. The law is also never far away, it must be remembered that penetrative sex between men was punishable by death between 1533 and 1861, the last hangings being in 1835. Hard labour was the punishment until 1967. Ackroyd charts an ebb and flow as there were periods of time when the law was applied more severely than others. When he can find original voices Ackroyd makes use of them, like the man arrested for lewd conduct in 1726 who said “I think there is no crime in making what use I please of my own body”.
There are ideas thrown in too, Ackroyd suggests that there was a third gender in Anglo-Saxon times inspired by male corpses buried with grave goods more associated with women, and records female monks who cut their hair short and “dressed, worked and lived like men”. Ackroyd says that:
“our modern descriptions of what is gay or queer need to be thoroughly revised in order to understand the past”.
There are transvestite knights in Malory and Richard of Devizes in the twelfth century describes “glabriones (smooth-skinned pretty boys), pusi¬ones (hustlers), molles (effeminates) and mascularii (man-lovers)”,
The voices of ordinary men and women are more difficult to capture, but are sometimes found in the court records. Cross dressing is common and clearly gender fluidity has a very long history. The city itself has a central role and Ackroyd quotes Calvino:
“Cities, like dreams, are made up of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules absurd, their perspective deceitful, and everything conceals something else.”
There is a great deal to fascinate, but also a great deal of persecution and tragedy, some of it truly horrific and Ackroyd charts periods of particular persecution and roots them in the troubles of the times. The early twentieth century (apart from the two world wars) being very repressive.
The ending of the history is fairly brief and everything since 1967 is packed into the last chapter, which is far too brief. The problem is that the last fifty years since legalization could be a rather hefty tome in itself, so not everyone will be happy with Ackroyd’s selectiveness. It must also be remembered that this is not the history of a movement but of the city of London and its relationship with its queer citizens over the ages. The writing about Aids is poignant given that Ackroyd’s long term partner died of Aids in the 1990s.
This is a good history, alternately funny and sad, written with great erudition and verve. A bit limited towards the end, but I suspect the modern history requires a whole other book.
There is a plethora of facts and stories assembled by Ackroyd; some are funny, hilarious even, others heartrendingly sad. He drags up some of the most unlikely names: Constable Obert Pert and a seller of trinkets called Samuel Drybutter. Facts such as the late Tudor name for a dildo (or at least one of them) is a shuttlecock. I don’t think I’m going to look at the game of badminton in the same way again! It was also interesting to discover that in the seventeenth century there was a male brothel on the site of Buckingham Palace.
One fascinating aspect of the journey through history here is the breadth, depth and luxuriance of the language used over the ages. We meet words like: catamite, sapphist, ingle, pathic, mollie, jemmy, tribade, tommy, indorser, fribble and madge. We also meet a vast array of characters. The law is also never far away, it must be remembered that penetrative sex between men was punishable by death between 1533 and 1861, the last hangings being in 1835. Hard labour was the punishment until 1967. Ackroyd charts an ebb and flow as there were periods of time when the law was applied more severely than others. When he can find original voices Ackroyd makes use of them, like the man arrested for lewd conduct in 1726 who said “I think there is no crime in making what use I please of my own body”.
There are ideas thrown in too, Ackroyd suggests that there was a third gender in Anglo-Saxon times inspired by male corpses buried with grave goods more associated with women, and records female monks who cut their hair short and “dressed, worked and lived like men”. Ackroyd says that:
“our modern descriptions of what is gay or queer need to be thoroughly revised in order to understand the past”.
There are transvestite knights in Malory and Richard of Devizes in the twelfth century describes “glabriones (smooth-skinned pretty boys), pusi¬ones (hustlers), molles (effeminates) and mascularii (man-lovers)”,
The voices of ordinary men and women are more difficult to capture, but are sometimes found in the court records. Cross dressing is common and clearly gender fluidity has a very long history. The city itself has a central role and Ackroyd quotes Calvino:
“Cities, like dreams, are made up of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules absurd, their perspective deceitful, and everything conceals something else.”
There is a great deal to fascinate, but also a great deal of persecution and tragedy, some of it truly horrific and Ackroyd charts periods of particular persecution and roots them in the troubles of the times. The early twentieth century (apart from the two world wars) being very repressive.
The ending of the history is fairly brief and everything since 1967 is packed into the last chapter, which is far too brief. The problem is that the last fifty years since legalization could be a rather hefty tome in itself, so not everyone will be happy with Ackroyd’s selectiveness. It must also be remembered that this is not the history of a movement but of the city of London and its relationship with its queer citizens over the ages. The writing about Aids is poignant given that Ackroyd’s long term partner died of Aids in the 1990s.
This is a good history, alternately funny and sad, written with great erudition and verve. A bit limited towards the end, but I suspect the modern history requires a whole other book.
May 30, 2017
Some years ago, I started to read Ackroyd's biography of London. I went about half way through before giving up on it. It felt very light on facts but full of hot air, mostly smelling of shit and rotten produce, as I recall.
Queer city is just the opposite: so crammed with facts that it becomes almost dizzying for it. In effect the whole thing feels like a big brain dump. Ackroyd rushes through a vertiginous list of facts often without really explaining things properly, or simply adding, by way of conclusion to a story, an opaque comment that seems meant as an explanation but leaves the reader puzzled and non the wiser.
The book is certainly informative and enjoyable to read, and I have learnt lots of things from it, but often I was left with unanswered questions about the episodes described, or about their context. The book somehow manages to be both punctilious and vague at the time, and would, I think, be quite confusing to a reader approaching the subject for the first time.
Perhaps this is due to the necessary breadth of the book, sweeping two thousand years of obscured and fragmentary history, but I can't help feeling Ackroyd could have given his subject a little more care and affection. I was excited when I got an advanced copy of the book and very much looked forward to reading it but in the end it feels more like a hastily thrown together pot boiler than a labour of love.
Queer city is just the opposite: so crammed with facts that it becomes almost dizzying for it. In effect the whole thing feels like a big brain dump. Ackroyd rushes through a vertiginous list of facts often without really explaining things properly, or simply adding, by way of conclusion to a story, an opaque comment that seems meant as an explanation but leaves the reader puzzled and non the wiser.
The book is certainly informative and enjoyable to read, and I have learnt lots of things from it, but often I was left with unanswered questions about the episodes described, or about their context. The book somehow manages to be both punctilious and vague at the time, and would, I think, be quite confusing to a reader approaching the subject for the first time.
Perhaps this is due to the necessary breadth of the book, sweeping two thousand years of obscured and fragmentary history, but I can't help feeling Ackroyd could have given his subject a little more care and affection. I was excited when I got an advanced copy of the book and very much looked forward to reading it but in the end it feels more like a hastily thrown together pot boiler than a labour of love.
September 25, 2019
Rep: LGBT nonfiction (most emphasis on G and L)
yeah, so. have a collection of thoughts on this book.
> i've seen people say that this book is too info-dumpy but honestly? i've never been info dumped with lgbt history so i didn't necessarily find that to be a problem
> one thing i did find, though, was that there wasn't really a coherent flow to it - it felt a bit choppy, like one paragraph he'd be talking about something, the next it'd be something else, which didn't seem to connect, so there wasn't really an overarching structure for each chapter let alone the book
> the use of "queer" as a blanket term was kind of offputting, but i can understand why he did so - the terms we use now aren't necessarily applicable to the past and "queer", as much as i dislike using it in that way, does encompass them better than gay or lgbt
> the focus was primarily on cis gay men, which i can understand because they're likely higher profile than any other part of the lgbt community, and therefore easier to find information about
> not the biggest fan of when he did make forays into discussing trans history because he's obviously not in the position to really talk about it
> he had a really blase way of discussing some of the things between 1790s when the death penalty was introduced for homosexuality and 1970s-1980s with the gay liberation front (like he drops in a line or two about someone who slit their throat because they thought they'd be blackmailed for homosexuality, and then it's never considered again), which ok i guess that's one way of dealing with it, but we're not really talking things you can be blase about, we're talking about murder and suicide and general horrific abuse
> he really does just skim over most of the 20th and 21st centuries and that's when most of the change happened so it'd have been nice to actually get something more about that
> he seemed to be under the impression that the 21st century (at least now) has basically nothing to be fought about with respect to lgbt rights - so, sure, he brings up homophobia a bit, but besides that it's like he takes the view that there's nothing more needing doing, which is so wrong i don't even know where to start
> there's little to no analysis, it's more like this happened and this happened and then this happened
> i really hate the cishets
yeah, so. have a collection of thoughts on this book.
> i've seen people say that this book is too info-dumpy but honestly? i've never been info dumped with lgbt history so i didn't necessarily find that to be a problem
> one thing i did find, though, was that there wasn't really a coherent flow to it - it felt a bit choppy, like one paragraph he'd be talking about something, the next it'd be something else, which didn't seem to connect, so there wasn't really an overarching structure for each chapter let alone the book
> the use of "queer" as a blanket term was kind of offputting, but i can understand why he did so - the terms we use now aren't necessarily applicable to the past and "queer", as much as i dislike using it in that way, does encompass them better than gay or lgbt
> the focus was primarily on cis gay men, which i can understand because they're likely higher profile than any other part of the lgbt community, and therefore easier to find information about
> not the biggest fan of when he did make forays into discussing trans history because he's obviously not in the position to really talk about it
> he had a really blase way of discussing some of the things between 1790s when the death penalty was introduced for homosexuality and 1970s-1980s with the gay liberation front (like he drops in a line or two about someone who slit their throat because they thought they'd be blackmailed for homosexuality, and then it's never considered again), which ok i guess that's one way of dealing with it, but we're not really talking things you can be blase about, we're talking about murder and suicide and general horrific abuse
> he really does just skim over most of the 20th and 21st centuries and that's when most of the change happened so it'd have been nice to actually get something more about that
> he seemed to be under the impression that the 21st century (at least now) has basically nothing to be fought about with respect to lgbt rights - so, sure, he brings up homophobia a bit, but besides that it's like he takes the view that there's nothing more needing doing, which is so wrong i don't even know where to start
> there's little to no analysis, it's more like this happened and this happened and then this happened
> i really hate the cishets
January 31, 2018
This work of popular history, which attempts to chronicle the history of queer London, has its shining moments. Ackroyd loves scandal, and when he's in his element, Queer City is a page-turner. His liberal quoting from old ballads and his jaunty writing style give Ackroyd's work a nice clip. Unfortunately, though, Ackroyd has written an entirely frustrating book.
Ackroyd's work on queer London through the 19th century is mostly good. It's an interesting, though cursory overview of how sexual identity changed over 2000 years in the city, starting in pre-Roman times. We all know that sexual identity was more fluid before the 19th century than it is today, and that story is constantly hashed and rehashed in the first 160 pages. We learn about queer kings and their favorites, the queer world of 17th century theater with all of its bawdy innuendo, the ubiquity of gay sex in monasteries, and queer marriages between women centuries ago.
But somehow Ackroyd leaves only 70 pages for the last 200 years of queer history in London, and man, are they bad. First, he dwells on accounts of sexual assault and violence, as well as pedophilia and pederasty, without making any effort to separate them from consensual sexual encounters. For an author always commenting within the text, Ackroyd only makes passing mention on the state of sexual mores in the 19th century. Instead of digging into why pedophilia and sexual violence were so common in that age, Ackroyd just presents non-consensual anecdotes without comment and with relish, interspersing them with tales of consensual queer love and lust. If anything, these stories belong in a history of sexual abuse rather than a queer history of a city.
Disappointingly, Ackroyd, who is 69 and gay, should know better than to only mention trans people in passing and then write about them with a dismissive tone. This passage was especially bizarre and outdated: "Those who cultivate and foster the transgender life are involved in what might be called existential change those who decide upon practical and surgical intervention merit the name of transsexuals." In his final chapter, Ackroyd sounds like a right-wing commentator railing against so-called social justice warriors rather than a queer writer. Bizarrely, Ackroyd ends the book with a diatribe against people on social media trying to out check each other's privilege and against the word "cis," which he calls "farcial."
The first 150 pages of Ackroyd's book are an interesting look at early queer London, but the last 80 pages are rushed, annoying, and disappointing. You can skip this one.
Ackroyd's work on queer London through the 19th century is mostly good. It's an interesting, though cursory overview of how sexual identity changed over 2000 years in the city, starting in pre-Roman times. We all know that sexual identity was more fluid before the 19th century than it is today, and that story is constantly hashed and rehashed in the first 160 pages. We learn about queer kings and their favorites, the queer world of 17th century theater with all of its bawdy innuendo, the ubiquity of gay sex in monasteries, and queer marriages between women centuries ago.
But somehow Ackroyd leaves only 70 pages for the last 200 years of queer history in London, and man, are they bad. First, he dwells on accounts of sexual assault and violence, as well as pedophilia and pederasty, without making any effort to separate them from consensual sexual encounters. For an author always commenting within the text, Ackroyd only makes passing mention on the state of sexual mores in the 19th century. Instead of digging into why pedophilia and sexual violence were so common in that age, Ackroyd just presents non-consensual anecdotes without comment and with relish, interspersing them with tales of consensual queer love and lust. If anything, these stories belong in a history of sexual abuse rather than a queer history of a city.
Disappointingly, Ackroyd, who is 69 and gay, should know better than to only mention trans people in passing and then write about them with a dismissive tone. This passage was especially bizarre and outdated: "Those who cultivate and foster the transgender life are involved in what might be called existential change those who decide upon practical and surgical intervention merit the name of transsexuals." In his final chapter, Ackroyd sounds like a right-wing commentator railing against so-called social justice warriors rather than a queer writer. Bizarrely, Ackroyd ends the book with a diatribe against people on social media trying to out check each other's privilege and against the word "cis," which he calls "farcial."
The first 150 pages of Ackroyd's book are an interesting look at early queer London, but the last 80 pages are rushed, annoying, and disappointing. You can skip this one.
January 11, 2018
Having just moved to London, I decided to educate myself about my new city by picking up Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day. As a trans (pop) historian, there seemed no better way to get to know the streets and neighbourhoods of London than through its LGBT history.
On the one hand, Queer City is a delightful, often hilarious, romp through about two thousand years of history. It's full of tantalizing moment from various periods of London's history - perhaps too brief, but fascinating still. Ackroyd manages to balance out what could've been an overwhelmingly male book, given how much of history has been told solely from the male perspective and thus the difficulty in reconstructing the lives of pre-modern women, with quite a bit of information about lesbians and other female-assigned people who might not be considered bisexual, lesbian, trans, or queer. For these reasons, I highly recommend it.
However, on the other hand, the book moves so quickly through time that one barely has a chance to learn much of anything. It is more of a rough outline of history than an in depth look - something that is inevitable given the vast period covered from antiquity to present. At so many points I wished we could stop and take in the sights, as it were, but the book spirits us on regardless.
Ackroyd seems uninterested or perhaps just uninformed on the events of the 20th Century. While previous centuries go on at length about various actors, both significant and insignificant, the 20th Century is more of an afterthought. I don't think a single 20th Century personage besides Joe Orton gains mention. Only one activist group, the Gay Liberation Front, merits mention - there is no discussion of the specific activist groups during the AIDS crisis or even the now-famous Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.
The book unfortunately also relies on the strange new fictive history of trans people, relegating us as a 21st century phenomenon that came "after gay rights" with the so-called transgender tipping point. This ignores the history much of the book has already discussed of people living cross-gender lives throughout the life of London. Though seemingly congratulatory towards recent strides made by trans people, he takes swipes at "identity politics" and treats trans people opposing anti-trans radical feminists as crazy. This section is so poorly researched that he manages even to misspell Paris Lees' name and repeat the tabloid fiction that another trans woman is the "first trans Muslim." That this is the note the book ends on leaves a bad taste in one's mouth.
The final problem is that of all popular histories: there are no footnotes or references, making it nearly impossible to track down any of the facts oneself, despite the long bibliography at the back. As a (pop) historian, it drives me a little mad.
Still, I'm giving the book four stars because it's otherwise delightful from start to (nearly) finish and can easily serve as a fun introduction to LGBT history in the UK for a non-academic audience who might enjoy learning a slice of history.
On the one hand, Queer City is a delightful, often hilarious, romp through about two thousand years of history. It's full of tantalizing moment from various periods of London's history - perhaps too brief, but fascinating still. Ackroyd manages to balance out what could've been an overwhelmingly male book, given how much of history has been told solely from the male perspective and thus the difficulty in reconstructing the lives of pre-modern women, with quite a bit of information about lesbians and other female-assigned people who might not be considered bisexual, lesbian, trans, or queer. For these reasons, I highly recommend it.
However, on the other hand, the book moves so quickly through time that one barely has a chance to learn much of anything. It is more of a rough outline of history than an in depth look - something that is inevitable given the vast period covered from antiquity to present. At so many points I wished we could stop and take in the sights, as it were, but the book spirits us on regardless.
Ackroyd seems uninterested or perhaps just uninformed on the events of the 20th Century. While previous centuries go on at length about various actors, both significant and insignificant, the 20th Century is more of an afterthought. I don't think a single 20th Century personage besides Joe Orton gains mention. Only one activist group, the Gay Liberation Front, merits mention - there is no discussion of the specific activist groups during the AIDS crisis or even the now-famous Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.
The book unfortunately also relies on the strange new fictive history of trans people, relegating us as a 21st century phenomenon that came "after gay rights" with the so-called transgender tipping point. This ignores the history much of the book has already discussed of people living cross-gender lives throughout the life of London. Though seemingly congratulatory towards recent strides made by trans people, he takes swipes at "identity politics" and treats trans people opposing anti-trans radical feminists as crazy. This section is so poorly researched that he manages even to misspell Paris Lees' name and repeat the tabloid fiction that another trans woman is the "first trans Muslim." That this is the note the book ends on leaves a bad taste in one's mouth.
The final problem is that of all popular histories: there are no footnotes or references, making it nearly impossible to track down any of the facts oneself, despite the long bibliography at the back. As a (pop) historian, it drives me a little mad.
Still, I'm giving the book four stars because it's otherwise delightful from start to (nearly) finish and can easily serve as a fun introduction to LGBT history in the UK for a non-academic audience who might enjoy learning a slice of history.
June 25, 2020
mint throughout, and then at the end decided to be grumpy and pessimistic about where “we” are now as a “community” rather than happy that no one is being arrested, pilloried, murdered, ruined, ad naus anymore like they were for the previous 250 pages. weird flex dude
Read
June 15, 2017A frustrating, fascinating mess of a book in which undoubted erudition pours forth on to the page with little structure beyond the vaguely chronological. At times, one wonders if it’s been edited at all; the dildo is described as "indispensable" to sapphic play in one sentence, only for the next to admit that sometimes a finger was substituted. Or consider the assertion that 1791 saw the last execution for sodomy in continental Europe. Really? I’m sure there’s a few ghosts of the Nazi camps who might disagree. Still and all, if nothing else it’s a valuable reminder that there was never some solidly heterosexual Britain such as certain ridiculous parties now far too close to government might like to imagine (oh, and I’d love to see their faces if they read the section here about the recreations of their beloved King Billy). Simon Callow’s Guardian review was vaguely sniffy about Ackroyd’s use of ‘queer’ rather than ‘gay’, but really the former is a much better term – more inclusive, for one thing. But also, trying to parcel historical figures out into modern boxes for the ‘homosexual', ‘bisexual' or ‘trans' - or sometimes even perhaps ‘asexual' - would be to use categories which simply don't fit the facts and experiences under discussion in the same way as the catch-all ‘queer'. The one downside of this is that the lines can sometimes be drawn a little too widely, as when the grave of a Roman-era gladiatrix is discussed. There seems no evidence for her queerness beyond her doing a job generally thought of as manly, and once you start down that road, where do you draw the line?
To be honest, you’ll probably do better with Queer City dipping into it (oo-er, matron!) from time to time, rather than trying to read it straight through and expecting a thesis. Because considered more as a treasure-trove, it’s full of gems. Consider the 1620 text which has all the sodomites dying to mark Jesus’ birth - ironic given the celebration of said birth is now quite literally as camp as Christmas. Or the Dark Ages code enjoining three fasts on a boy who sleeps with an adult male in clerical orders, but not specifying any punishment for the man - curiously, Ackroyd appears to be under the impression the Catholic Church has now reconsidered this approach. All manner of disused slang is exhumed – I love ‘fribble’ and ‘whiffle’, but even my fascination with new words for bisexuals draws the line at ‘uranodioning’. There’s the notorious cottage purchased and transported to a New York estate as if it were a historical bridge or castle, apparently by a wealthy American remembering happy times there during the Blitz. There are the amusing, horrifying or sometimes both specifics of particular busts under the homophobic laws of the day, and the salacious details of what the historical queers were up to: one longs to know the tune to which the mollies sang 'Come, let us bugger finely!’ Not to mention many satirical rhymes, my favourite among them running thus:
The Devil, to prove the Church was a farce,
Went out to fish for a Bugger.
He hates his hook with a Frenchman's arse
And pulled up the Bishop of Clogher.
Who was known as the Arse-Bishop ever after.
Alas, one must always keep an eye out for that same readiness to assume which we saw with the gladiatrix, as when it’s blithely asserted that Othello depicts homoerotic themes, when that is surely but one of many angles from which one can approach the central crack in these characters which undoes so many lives. Obviously, the nature of the topic is such that you won’t always have a clear statement of desires forbidden at the time, but a little more hedging would sometimes have been wise. Not that any is needed in the case of John Addington Symonds, who remarkably seems to have been turned gay by graffiti penises – a responsibility we’d all do well to remember when inscribing three-line cocks in snow or condensation. He would go on to propose the establishment of dedicated ‘spoonitoria' in public parks.
As the book approaches the present day, it covers increasingly familiar ground, particularly once Labouchere’s debatable amendment criminalises all homosexual acts and not merely sodomy proper as before. There’s more that could have been done with these chapters, I think – in particular, a focus on something which has already been hinted at throughout but never fully addressed, the complications of consent when a whole sphere of sexual activity is outlawed. We may still laugh at Uncle Monty’s “I mean to have you, boy, even if it must be burglary”, but it’s worth bearing in mind that an awful lot of the specific couplings described in Queer City would still be illegal today, whether because one party was too young, because they were taken by deceit or force, or quite often both. Not that the heterosexual scene was free of the same conditions, of course, any more than it is today. Nevertheless – when you tell people they’re beyond the pale to start with, little wonder if their subsequent actions don’t necessarily bespeak the highest moral character.
Which makes it all the more surprising that, post-legalisation, Ackroyd can’t muster a bit more enthusiasm for the state of things now. He says that with assimilation and marriage the urge to question society’s norms and expectations has faded, before going on to offer a (serviceable, if slightly old fashioned) account of the increased visibility of trans and gender-fluid people - but makes no mention of, for instance, people in open and to some extent formal non-monogamous relationships, or otherwise queering the pitch. He remains, in summary, slightly maddening right to the end. But it was a quick enough read which entertained me often enough that I can’t complain too forcefully.
To be honest, you’ll probably do better with Queer City dipping into it (oo-er, matron!) from time to time, rather than trying to read it straight through and expecting a thesis. Because considered more as a treasure-trove, it’s full of gems. Consider the 1620 text which has all the sodomites dying to mark Jesus’ birth - ironic given the celebration of said birth is now quite literally as camp as Christmas. Or the Dark Ages code enjoining three fasts on a boy who sleeps with an adult male in clerical orders, but not specifying any punishment for the man - curiously, Ackroyd appears to be under the impression the Catholic Church has now reconsidered this approach. All manner of disused slang is exhumed – I love ‘fribble’ and ‘whiffle’, but even my fascination with new words for bisexuals draws the line at ‘uranodioning’. There’s the notorious cottage purchased and transported to a New York estate as if it were a historical bridge or castle, apparently by a wealthy American remembering happy times there during the Blitz. There are the amusing, horrifying or sometimes both specifics of particular busts under the homophobic laws of the day, and the salacious details of what the historical queers were up to: one longs to know the tune to which the mollies sang 'Come, let us bugger finely!’ Not to mention many satirical rhymes, my favourite among them running thus:
The Devil, to prove the Church was a farce,
Went out to fish for a Bugger.
He hates his hook with a Frenchman's arse
And pulled up the Bishop of Clogher.
Who was known as the Arse-Bishop ever after.
Alas, one must always keep an eye out for that same readiness to assume which we saw with the gladiatrix, as when it’s blithely asserted that Othello depicts homoerotic themes, when that is surely but one of many angles from which one can approach the central crack in these characters which undoes so many lives. Obviously, the nature of the topic is such that you won’t always have a clear statement of desires forbidden at the time, but a little more hedging would sometimes have been wise. Not that any is needed in the case of John Addington Symonds, who remarkably seems to have been turned gay by graffiti penises – a responsibility we’d all do well to remember when inscribing three-line cocks in snow or condensation. He would go on to propose the establishment of dedicated ‘spoonitoria' in public parks.
As the book approaches the present day, it covers increasingly familiar ground, particularly once Labouchere’s debatable amendment criminalises all homosexual acts and not merely sodomy proper as before. There’s more that could have been done with these chapters, I think – in particular, a focus on something which has already been hinted at throughout but never fully addressed, the complications of consent when a whole sphere of sexual activity is outlawed. We may still laugh at Uncle Monty’s “I mean to have you, boy, even if it must be burglary”, but it’s worth bearing in mind that an awful lot of the specific couplings described in Queer City would still be illegal today, whether because one party was too young, because they were taken by deceit or force, or quite often both. Not that the heterosexual scene was free of the same conditions, of course, any more than it is today. Nevertheless – when you tell people they’re beyond the pale to start with, little wonder if their subsequent actions don’t necessarily bespeak the highest moral character.
Which makes it all the more surprising that, post-legalisation, Ackroyd can’t muster a bit more enthusiasm for the state of things now. He says that with assimilation and marriage the urge to question society’s norms and expectations has faded, before going on to offer a (serviceable, if slightly old fashioned) account of the increased visibility of trans and gender-fluid people - but makes no mention of, for instance, people in open and to some extent formal non-monogamous relationships, or otherwise queering the pitch. He remains, in summary, slightly maddening right to the end. But it was a quick enough read which entertained me often enough that I can’t complain too forcefully.
February 13, 2018
Book received from NetGalley.
First and foremost, this particular history book is not for everyone, the subject matter can be very divisive even though the author is a marvelous researcher and writer of British history. This is one of my auto buy authors. I love his books especially his non-fiction. He somehow finds a way to bring his subject to life and draw the reader in. This book is no different, even though the subject matter can be hard to read at times. Unlike many of his history books this one is very short. This is due to how little information on the LGBTQ community in the earliest parts of the historical record. When it does show up for many years it's found in the trial records. The book mostly focuses on the Gay community in London, there is very little mentioned about Lesbians and even less about the rest of the community in general, which is also do to the persecution that seemed to be focused on the males sexual preference. If you want to know the origin of some of the worst slurs, it's in here. Why the author believes that homosexual sex became a death penalty case, it's in here. The ending of the history shows how much things have changed for the better in current times in Britain for the LGBTQ community, even though more changes need to be made, it gives some hope that it will happen. I learned quite a bit from reading this history and have plans to order myself a copy as soon as it's released. If you like Gay studies, alternative histories of Great Britain, or Social history this book should be on you want to read list.
First and foremost, this particular history book is not for everyone, the subject matter can be very divisive even though the author is a marvelous researcher and writer of British history. This is one of my auto buy authors. I love his books especially his non-fiction. He somehow finds a way to bring his subject to life and draw the reader in. This book is no different, even though the subject matter can be hard to read at times. Unlike many of his history books this one is very short. This is due to how little information on the LGBTQ community in the earliest parts of the historical record. When it does show up for many years it's found in the trial records. The book mostly focuses on the Gay community in London, there is very little mentioned about Lesbians and even less about the rest of the community in general, which is also do to the persecution that seemed to be focused on the males sexual preference. If you want to know the origin of some of the worst slurs, it's in here. Why the author believes that homosexual sex became a death penalty case, it's in here. The ending of the history shows how much things have changed for the better in current times in Britain for the LGBTQ community, even though more changes need to be made, it gives some hope that it will happen. I learned quite a bit from reading this history and have plans to order myself a copy as soon as it's released. If you like Gay studies, alternative histories of Great Britain, or Social history this book should be on you want to read list.
June 23, 2017
Feeling torn about this book – it both disappointed and pleasantly surprised me. On the one hand, the "queer history of London" is essentially a queer history of England with a lot of unknown street names thrown in, though Ackroyd does occasionally explore the link between urbanity and non-heterosexuality: its restriction to London feels limiting and contrived. When he reaches the 19th century, he suddenly seems in a hurry to finish. He also skims over the question of sexual assault, though the book's pages are full of cases of non-consensual acts, as though it is not worth discussing in a queer history. But on the other hand – he shows a great deal of intelligence and open-mindedness, establishing early on that "our modern descriptions of what is gay or queer need to be thoroughly revised in order to understand the past" and not only trying to keep a 50/50 balance of female and male queerness, but explaining why it is difficult to do so (spoilers: no one really wanted to write about women's sexuality, or women at all, back in the day). I'd definitely recommend it, but I still feel it had the potential to be better.
October 10, 2018
I don't give out one-star ratings very often, and in this case it is not necessarily a reflection of my reading experience but a reflection of how problematic this book is. It is being sold as an entertaining general interest book, and could have been a great way to communicate to the world at large that queer people have always been around, and they have generally had to put up with some awful shit. However, there was no analysis, no overview, no reason for anything really - just anecdote after anecdote.
The mainproblem was that it discussed a large number of incidents of sexual relations between adults and what would now be considered minors, including assaults, as well as general "entertaining" chat about pederasty, without any examination of this, never mind any condemnation. It felt very unpleasant to read.
There was almost nothing about women in there: the writer did at one point note that women's stories were not written down, but I know for certain there is more material out there that could have been used, or at least the material that is available could have been looked at in more detail for balance. It also wouldn't have gone amiss to mention that the history of gay men is disproportionately skewed to records of crime and punishment simply because people were living under the radar and only show in the historical record when they get caught. Perhaps that is obvious, but it merited a bit of thought.
There is lots of interesting material in here, but no one story is given more than a paragraph or two. A complete wasted opportunity.
The mainproblem was that it discussed a large number of incidents of sexual relations between adults and what would now be considered minors, including assaults, as well as general "entertaining" chat about pederasty, without any examination of this, never mind any condemnation. It felt very unpleasant to read.
There was almost nothing about women in there: the writer did at one point note that women's stories were not written down, but I know for certain there is more material out there that could have been used, or at least the material that is available could have been looked at in more detail for balance. It also wouldn't have gone amiss to mention that the history of gay men is disproportionately skewed to records of crime and punishment simply because people were living under the radar and only show in the historical record when they get caught. Perhaps that is obvious, but it merited a bit of thought.
There is lots of interesting material in here, but no one story is given more than a paragraph or two. A complete wasted opportunity.
January 21, 2018
Disclaimer: ARC via Netgalley
One of my closest friends is a gay man who is twenty plus years older than me. Most days, we take a walk though the local cemetery, The Woodlands (where Eakins and Stockton are buried among others). Early on in our ritual, we noticed a headstone for a couple, but the couple in this case were both men. Sadly, it was one of those couple headstones where one partner is still alive, and the other has died years ago. My friend said that it was likely that the husband had died of AIDS. When I asked him why, he pointed out the death date and the link to the AIDS epidemic. Seriously, after a conversation like that, you never look at tombstones the same way.
I found myself thinking about that as I read Peter Ackroyd’s Queer City.
Queer City is another entry into what I call Ackroyd’s London History series (London, The Thames, London Under), and, as the title indicts, follows the history of London’s Queer residents and culture. Queer here meaning homosexual and trans, which dates further back than you would think. Ackroyd’s Queer City is a bit close to a chronical history, in a way that the other London books are not, though much of the flow and hither and there is still present. You are either going to love this poetic style or hate it.
There is a level of almost catty gossip and sly humor to Ackroyd’s non-fiction books. Even a massive tome that is London doesn’t feel anyway near that long because of his tone. It engages the reader, moving the book far past a simple history book. So, we have observations like, “They were a tribe of Ganymedes and he was their Zeus”.
Yet, the book covers so much. Ackroyd starts during the Pre-Roman/Roman era, detailing even how gladiators weren’t perhaps quite the men we think they were (apparently, they really like perfume). He then moves to the advent of Christianity and the Anglo -Saxons. He does discuss not only homosexual men but women as well, noting that society’s view of women was also reflected in how society (not law, but society) viewed homosexual relationships.
Being Ackroyd, he is particularly interesting when discussing literature. There is a detailed look at Chaucer’s homosexual pilgrims as well as the view of the erotic theatre of Elizabeth’s time (“the codpieces were padded so the cods looked plumper”).
But he also doesn’t hesitate to describe punishment dealt out to those who did not fit the norm. We learn not only of whippings and beatings, but also of women slicing off a penis of an accused homosexual. We hear of what happened to two women, one of whom had married the other while disguised as a man. We learn more about those women who Waters wrote so well about in Tipping the Velvet. As well as certain Mrs. Bradshaw, who will get approving looks from Disc fans. We learn about the view of homosexuality and the arrival of AIDS in Britain. This last section of the book is perhaps the quickest and almost glossed over. I found myself wondering if this time period was too personal for Ackroyd to comfortably write about, at least in times of his story (Ackroyd’s long term partner Brian Kuhn died of AIDS in the 1990s).
It is this last section of the book that is at once the most hopeful and most touching. In the same chapter where he discusses the AIDS epidemic, he looks at the legislation of gay marriage as well as the phrase “check our privilege”, and this too made me think about the differences between then and now. How some younger members of queer culture (or transgender culture) are somewhat dismissive of those that came before. A trans person was dismissive of older homosexual because of lack of awareness of what that generation had endured. He was not aware of men and women being unable and even forbidden to attend the sick and death beds of loved ones. The word Stonewall to this young person meant little more than a Civil War Reference. The student lacked awareness and inability to see beyond or outside his own pain/frame of reference. It is also possible that this young man (his preferred description) had been condensed to by older homosexual/trans population. One can sense a missed discussion between groups. It is case like this that Ackroyd seems to be thinking about when he talks about checking privilege. He doesn’t claim immunity, but he is pushing towards an ability to talk, to discuss, to learn, to be better. Ackroyd is making a cause of understanding each other, in a way that the city he writes so passionately about seems to understand its residents.
One of my closest friends is a gay man who is twenty plus years older than me. Most days, we take a walk though the local cemetery, The Woodlands (where Eakins and Stockton are buried among others). Early on in our ritual, we noticed a headstone for a couple, but the couple in this case were both men. Sadly, it was one of those couple headstones where one partner is still alive, and the other has died years ago. My friend said that it was likely that the husband had died of AIDS. When I asked him why, he pointed out the death date and the link to the AIDS epidemic. Seriously, after a conversation like that, you never look at tombstones the same way.
I found myself thinking about that as I read Peter Ackroyd’s Queer City.
Queer City is another entry into what I call Ackroyd’s London History series (London, The Thames, London Under), and, as the title indicts, follows the history of London’s Queer residents and culture. Queer here meaning homosexual and trans, which dates further back than you would think. Ackroyd’s Queer City is a bit close to a chronical history, in a way that the other London books are not, though much of the flow and hither and there is still present. You are either going to love this poetic style or hate it.
There is a level of almost catty gossip and sly humor to Ackroyd’s non-fiction books. Even a massive tome that is London doesn’t feel anyway near that long because of his tone. It engages the reader, moving the book far past a simple history book. So, we have observations like, “They were a tribe of Ganymedes and he was their Zeus”.
Yet, the book covers so much. Ackroyd starts during the Pre-Roman/Roman era, detailing even how gladiators weren’t perhaps quite the men we think they were (apparently, they really like perfume). He then moves to the advent of Christianity and the Anglo -Saxons. He does discuss not only homosexual men but women as well, noting that society’s view of women was also reflected in how society (not law, but society) viewed homosexual relationships.
Being Ackroyd, he is particularly interesting when discussing literature. There is a detailed look at Chaucer’s homosexual pilgrims as well as the view of the erotic theatre of Elizabeth’s time (“the codpieces were padded so the cods looked plumper”).
But he also doesn’t hesitate to describe punishment dealt out to those who did not fit the norm. We learn not only of whippings and beatings, but also of women slicing off a penis of an accused homosexual. We hear of what happened to two women, one of whom had married the other while disguised as a man. We learn more about those women who Waters wrote so well about in Tipping the Velvet. As well as certain Mrs. Bradshaw, who will get approving looks from Disc fans. We learn about the view of homosexuality and the arrival of AIDS in Britain. This last section of the book is perhaps the quickest and almost glossed over. I found myself wondering if this time period was too personal for Ackroyd to comfortably write about, at least in times of his story (Ackroyd’s long term partner Brian Kuhn died of AIDS in the 1990s).
It is this last section of the book that is at once the most hopeful and most touching. In the same chapter where he discusses the AIDS epidemic, he looks at the legislation of gay marriage as well as the phrase “check our privilege”, and this too made me think about the differences between then and now. How some younger members of queer culture (or transgender culture) are somewhat dismissive of those that came before. A trans person was dismissive of older homosexual because of lack of awareness of what that generation had endured. He was not aware of men and women being unable and even forbidden to attend the sick and death beds of loved ones. The word Stonewall to this young person meant little more than a Civil War Reference. The student lacked awareness and inability to see beyond or outside his own pain/frame of reference. It is also possible that this young man (his preferred description) had been condensed to by older homosexual/trans population. One can sense a missed discussion between groups. It is case like this that Ackroyd seems to be thinking about when he talks about checking privilege. He doesn’t claim immunity, but he is pushing towards an ability to talk, to discuss, to learn, to be better. Ackroyd is making a cause of understanding each other, in a way that the city he writes so passionately about seems to understand its residents.
September 28, 2020
I enjoyed reading Queer City, and I certainly learned some new things.
That being said, I do think this book has several points that could be improved upon:
-describing 2000 years of queer history of a city is an ambitious endeavour, probably too much so for a book that is 233 pages of text (minus bibliography). By far the largest part of the book spanned the period from 1500-now; I think it could have either been a bigger book, or else it should have focussed on early modernity till now;
-Its brevity might make one think that it is supposed to be an introductory text to the subject. However, I'd hesitate to recommend it as such. It is, as we Dutch say, neither meat nor fish;
-For me, the writing style took a bit of time to get used to;
-Sometimes the writer stated certain things that were very interesting, but did not elaborate. This was a shame, because I would have liked more of an explanation (hence my comment that this book is not all that suitable for novices interested in this subject);
-This book did not use any footnotes or endnotes. It does have an elaborate bibliography, but what use is that when I don't know what each book was used for? I can't distinguish between the author's own opinions and those of others, either. Some sort of referencing is a simple must for any non-fiction book, IMO. Basically, this book is useless if I want to use it for an essay;
-There was a lot of emphasis on sex. Queerness encompasses far more than the sexual act. Furthermore, most of that sex was prostitution, and a lot was between boys and men, which buys into some very harmful stereotypes that exist around gay men (namely that they are rapists and pedophiles). For this part especially I would have liked to have more context; after all, regardless of what we think of this nowadays, sex between minors and adults, whether homosexual or heterosexual (to use anachronistic terms) was pretty freaking common for a lot of human history, with the age of consent originally being 10 years old (it was only very slowly raised to 16 within the Victorian era). To elucidate this fact would have helped place these queer sexual encounters (which are probably quite shocking for a lot of people) into their proper context. As it stands, I am afraid it reinforces harful stereotypes;
-Continuing with the above point: I would've loved for Ackroyd to have given a lot more attention to romantic and sexual relationships between men rather than this constant emphasis on brief sexual encounters;
-I feel Ackroyd described men and their actions a lot more than he did for women. True, he did include women (I think he truly made an effort), but it still felt imbalanced. At one point he remarks that history has always been uninterested in women's lives and that this is why we know little about them. This is not untrue; however, that's what we have women's studies for, and Ackroyd could have done a better job of balancing it all out. The part on queer Victorian women was especially lacking, which, with all the information that is out there about queer Victorian women, is pretty unacceptable.
An interesting read that could have been much stronger.
That being said, I do think this book has several points that could be improved upon:
-describing 2000 years of queer history of a city is an ambitious endeavour, probably too much so for a book that is 233 pages of text (minus bibliography). By far the largest part of the book spanned the period from 1500-now; I think it could have either been a bigger book, or else it should have focussed on early modernity till now;
-Its brevity might make one think that it is supposed to be an introductory text to the subject. However, I'd hesitate to recommend it as such. It is, as we Dutch say, neither meat nor fish;
-For me, the writing style took a bit of time to get used to;
-Sometimes the writer stated certain things that were very interesting, but did not elaborate. This was a shame, because I would have liked more of an explanation (hence my comment that this book is not all that suitable for novices interested in this subject);
-This book did not use any footnotes or endnotes. It does have an elaborate bibliography, but what use is that when I don't know what each book was used for? I can't distinguish between the author's own opinions and those of others, either. Some sort of referencing is a simple must for any non-fiction book, IMO. Basically, this book is useless if I want to use it for an essay;
-There was a lot of emphasis on sex. Queerness encompasses far more than the sexual act. Furthermore, most of that sex was prostitution, and a lot was between boys and men, which buys into some very harmful stereotypes that exist around gay men (namely that they are rapists and pedophiles). For this part especially I would have liked to have more context; after all, regardless of what we think of this nowadays, sex between minors and adults, whether homosexual or heterosexual (to use anachronistic terms) was pretty freaking common for a lot of human history, with the age of consent originally being 10 years old (it was only very slowly raised to 16 within the Victorian era). To elucidate this fact would have helped place these queer sexual encounters (which are probably quite shocking for a lot of people) into their proper context. As it stands, I am afraid it reinforces harful stereotypes;
-Continuing with the above point: I would've loved for Ackroyd to have given a lot more attention to romantic and sexual relationships between men rather than this constant emphasis on brief sexual encounters;
-I feel Ackroyd described men and their actions a lot more than he did for women. True, he did include women (I think he truly made an effort), but it still felt imbalanced. At one point he remarks that history has always been uninterested in women's lives and that this is why we know little about them. This is not untrue; however, that's what we have women's studies for, and Ackroyd could have done a better job of balancing it all out. The part on queer Victorian women was especially lacking, which, with all the information that is out there about queer Victorian women, is pretty unacceptable.
An interesting read that could have been much stronger.
May 29, 2017
I was debating between 2 or 3 and went for 2 sorry.
Anyway, review time:
I was quite enjoying this until i got to the last couple of pages about 20/21st century queer london and had to read this line with my own two eyes: "the effects of clause 28 were, as it turned out, minimal; its most important consequence lay in the self-definition of those who protested against it. (P.225)" This after barely a page, in a 240 page volume, on the aids crisis.
The description of the history that I, a queer in London, have actually lived is even more lacking in critical examination: queer life in London has apparently become subdued and (my words, not Ackroyds): seems to be regressing into a state of quiet living, in full acceptance of the majority. "Same-sex" marriage is once again hailed as the herald of a post-homophobic age, and Cameron gets a special shoutout for his speech made during the legalisation process ( he 'believes in gay marriage' not "in spite of being a conservative, but because [he] is a conservative.")
Never mind that it took the UK until 2013 to even get with the programme, or tory cuts to critical lgbt services have endangered the life of so many queers; or tory regulations on rent in london are a huge factor in many queer bars and spaces across the city being forced to close or relocate. It would be offensive if it wasn't so damn predictable.
I might be letting my distain for the last chapter colour my appreciation for the rest of the book, but I expected more (and better) from this text. I can live with it being quite a rushed affair, I cannot live with it being condescending to modern-day queers.
Anyway, review time:
I was quite enjoying this until i got to the last couple of pages about 20/21st century queer london and had to read this line with my own two eyes: "the effects of clause 28 were, as it turned out, minimal; its most important consequence lay in the self-definition of those who protested against it. (P.225)" This after barely a page, in a 240 page volume, on the aids crisis.
The description of the history that I, a queer in London, have actually lived is even more lacking in critical examination: queer life in London has apparently become subdued and (my words, not Ackroyds): seems to be regressing into a state of quiet living, in full acceptance of the majority. "Same-sex" marriage is once again hailed as the herald of a post-homophobic age, and Cameron gets a special shoutout for his speech made during the legalisation process ( he 'believes in gay marriage' not "in spite of being a conservative, but because [he] is a conservative.")
Never mind that it took the UK until 2013 to even get with the programme, or tory cuts to critical lgbt services have endangered the life of so many queers; or tory regulations on rent in london are a huge factor in many queer bars and spaces across the city being forced to close or relocate. It would be offensive if it wasn't so damn predictable.
I might be letting my distain for the last chapter colour my appreciation for the rest of the book, but I expected more (and better) from this text. I can live with it being quite a rushed affair, I cannot live with it being condescending to modern-day queers.
August 16, 2017
An odd book. A hodge podge of facts regarding divergent sexuality in London. I use the phrase "divergent sexuality" rather than gay, as in reality the book covers a lot more than gay culture.
As I said, it's an odd book. It reminds me of a man skating over a frozen sewage pond. He goes fast because he's afraid to look at what's underneath the ice. That's pretty much what Peter Ackroyd does - he skims across the surface of an interesting subject, scattering facts behind him.
I spent a lot of time researching Victorian gay/trans culture earlier this year, and if this book had been available then it would have been of absolutely no use at all.
It's hard to avoid the conclusion that this book was written simply to cash in on the 50th anniversary of the partial decriminalization of homosexuality in the UK.
As I said, it's an odd book. It reminds me of a man skating over a frozen sewage pond. He goes fast because he's afraid to look at what's underneath the ice. That's pretty much what Peter Ackroyd does - he skims across the surface of an interesting subject, scattering facts behind him.
I spent a lot of time researching Victorian gay/trans culture earlier this year, and if this book had been available then it would have been of absolutely no use at all.
It's hard to avoid the conclusion that this book was written simply to cash in on the 50th anniversary of the partial decriminalization of homosexuality in the UK.
September 16, 2025
Full of gossipy anedotes fit for a salacious dinner party, this is a pop history book that runs through 2,000 years of scandals, slander, court cases, and literature that refer to same-gender sexual activity or crossdressing in order to claim that London has always had queer people in it. I was hoping for something more academic and footnoted, and I found it frustrating that Ackroyd would so often end a paragraph about a reputation-destroying accusation or a criminal conviction with a casual disclaimer, i.e. "but perhaps the wife knew all along", or worse "perhaps the servant actually consented". I also wish Ackroyd had showed more curiosity/interest around how gender performance and sexuality mores changed in England over the centuries. If there have always been gay men in the clergy, the army, the public schools, the workyards, and near the throne -- then WHY was sodomy more offensive to the Victorians than to the Tudors? (I have theories myself, but Ackroyd has already moved on to his next anecdote.) And the stories of convicted men who died on the pillory makes me want to understand more about sentencing methods and if/how sexual offences were treated differently than other crimes both by the court and by the mob. I will say he included way more lesbians than I expected, so props for that.
The final chapter also feels underbaked, from the rushed discussion of AIDS to the description of LGBTQ London in the 21st century that makes it obvious Ackroyd hasn't experienced the current scene himself, and is recounting second-hand context-less examples of queer discourse. Which is true of all the rest of the earlier chapters too, I suppose, except those people are long since dead.
I think this book is best used as a starting point: a list of fascinating cases and historical figures to explore further. A thoughtfully edited Wikipedia page, with an impressive 10-page bibliography.
Content note that while the anecdotes start out frothy and fun (often pulled from royal court rumors) by the 1780s onward most stories come from criminal convictions and are both depressing and violent. Descriptions of sex acts are always explicit, and Ackroyd rarely comments on the ambiguity of consent between social classes and adults/adolescents when everything is illegal anyway.
The final chapter also feels underbaked, from the rushed discussion of AIDS to the description of LGBTQ London in the 21st century that makes it obvious Ackroyd hasn't experienced the current scene himself, and is recounting second-hand context-less examples of queer discourse. Which is true of all the rest of the earlier chapters too, I suppose, except those people are long since dead.
I think this book is best used as a starting point: a list of fascinating cases and historical figures to explore further. A thoughtfully edited Wikipedia page, with an impressive 10-page bibliography.
Content note that while the anecdotes start out frothy and fun (often pulled from royal court rumors) by the 1780s onward most stories come from criminal convictions and are both depressing and violent. Descriptions of sex acts are always explicit, and Ackroyd rarely comments on the ambiguity of consent between social classes and adults/adolescents when everything is illegal anyway.
July 26, 2017
Although relatively short, this book is a battle to get through. It attempts to achieve way too much in far too short amount of time meaning huge important aspects of queer history are glossed over at a lightning pace. It ends up being a book full of facts and names with no real context.
In the last 30 pages the book attempts to cover from the Second World War to present day, skipping through aspects of Gay Liberation, the AIDS crisis, and today's gay political climate in what seems to be a mad panic to fit it in to the book. This lack of depth belittles how important these events and their impacts truly were.
If you want a great book on Queer Britain read R Aldrich.
In the last 30 pages the book attempts to cover from the Second World War to present day, skipping through aspects of Gay Liberation, the AIDS crisis, and today's gay political climate in what seems to be a mad panic to fit it in to the book. This lack of depth belittles how important these events and their impacts truly were.
If you want a great book on Queer Britain read R Aldrich.
April 26, 2020
Якщо дуже коротко: християни все зруйнували.
Книга хоча й насичена фактами, не дуже сподобалась, все викладено якось або надто сухо або з фокусом на скандальність, багато прикладів, мало висновків.
Наприклад, дуже хотілось дізнатися більше про мову polari, секретну мову квірів у Лондоні (a strange amalgam of Romany, Yiddish, lingua Franca, cockney rhyming slang, black slang and vagrants’ canting terms), але автор представив лише сторінку тексту, з інформацією, яку можна знайти на Вікіпедії.
Але для людей, які зовсім не в темі, може бути корисною певно.
Обкладинка та ілюстрації - прекрасні.
Книга хоча й насичена фактами, не дуже сподобалась, все викладено якось або надто сухо або з фокусом на скандальність, багато прикладів, мало висновків.
Наприклад, дуже хотілось дізнатися більше про мову polari, секретну мову квірів у Лондоні (a strange amalgam of Romany, Yiddish, lingua Franca, cockney rhyming slang, black slang and vagrants’ canting terms), але автор представив лише сторінку тексту, з інформацією, яку можна знайти на Вікіпедії.
Але для людей, які зовсім не в темі, може бути корисною певно.
Обкладинка та ілюстрації - прекрасні.
April 5, 2017
This isn't in print yet so I felt lucky to read it but Ackroyd's writing style is so much just an accumulation of facts and very little the creation of an overarching narrative that I found it ... like reading a trivia book.
March 21, 2022
This was an interesting ride, but also in parts too detailed and in others perhaps a little too light for my personal liking.
In Queer City, Peter Ackroyd endeavours to recount London history through the lens of homosexuality, its gaiety and folly from early Roman times to the present day.
It is indeed intended as a hommage to queer London. It also felt like a goodbye to the duality of the past. In a world where the spectrums of sexual activities and identities are ever evolving, there is little room for the exuberant “all or nothing” queer life of the 60s and 70s.
Centuries before, when men and women were brought together separately through poverty, war, and sickness, same-sex interactions were more often than not considered part of the norm.
It is quite late that London discovers a deep-seated hatred for all things gay (though somehow women are mostly exempted from harsh judgement), at a moment when the rest of Europe has started sailing the white flag.
And during the last decades, Peter Ackroyd was there and very ‘so’.
In Queer City, Peter Ackroyd endeavours to recount London history through the lens of homosexuality, its gaiety and folly from early Roman times to the present day.
It is indeed intended as a hommage to queer London. It also felt like a goodbye to the duality of the past. In a world where the spectrums of sexual activities and identities are ever evolving, there is little room for the exuberant “all or nothing” queer life of the 60s and 70s.
Centuries before, when men and women were brought together separately through poverty, war, and sickness, same-sex interactions were more often than not considered part of the norm.
It is quite late that London discovers a deep-seated hatred for all things gay (though somehow women are mostly exempted from harsh judgement), at a moment when the rest of Europe has started sailing the white flag.
And during the last decades, Peter Ackroyd was there and very ‘so’.
January 14, 2021
I’m so upset I didn’t enjoy this more! It definitely had its interesting moments that taught me about the day to day life of queer people over 2,000 years. To do that in 233 pages? Madness. It was so crammed full of facts and different accounts that I got whiplash, and I couldn’t keep up with all the information being thrown my way.
It also would have been interesting to see more of the LGBTQIA+ community represented beyond the G (and also the L, though this wasn’t as heavily focussed on). When transgender/non binary history was discussed it was often not explicit in its purpose.
All in all, interesting but it needed to be longer, with more depth and breadth to it.
It also would have been interesting to see more of the LGBTQIA+ community represented beyond the G (and also the L, though this wasn’t as heavily focussed on). When transgender/non binary history was discussed it was often not explicit in its purpose.
All in all, interesting but it needed to be longer, with more depth and breadth to it.
September 11, 2018
Świetna książka, co nie będzie zaskoczeniem dla nikogo, kto czytał "Londyn. Biografia" tego autora. W zasadzie ten tytuł traktuję jako dodatek, uzupełnienie, historię Londynu w swoistej miniaturze - bo poświęconej historii londyńskiego "świata" queer. Od czasów rzymskich po współczesne. Bardzo ciekawa, doskonale napisana, z delikatnym humorem i otwierająca oczy na kwestie, którymi na co dzień nie zawracam sobie głowy. Czego by jednak dobrego nie napisać - ta książka jest przede wszystkim ciekawa.
April 16, 2018
Synopsis
A look at London’s history through a queer eye. What Ackroyd claims to be a complete history.
Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to Present Day by Peter Ackroyd
★
Genre: Nonfiction
Release Date: 8 May 2018
Source: Free Copy Received in Exchange for Review
On My Shelf: No
I have to say that this cover and then the title just sucked me right in, so I felt I had to request this read from Netgalley. Low and behold, I was approved; but, I wish I hadn’t been.
This was a dense, uncomfortable read in desperate need of an editor. I did not enjoy any part of reading this, and, in fact, skimmed most of the second half of the book.
My first complaint is that Ackroyd does not form any sort of organization in the slightest. He lists fact after fact without giving any clear sense of story or timeframe of when anything is happening. Based on who he was talking about, I usually gained some sort of footing as to the eras of London he was discussing. However, when he did bring up names I recognized, I learned nothing new.
Instead, I felt outraged in the way he talked about historical figures in the hopes of creating that jaw dropping moment for his readers. As someone with an English degree who studied Literature as a minor, I can assure you, it came as no shock when Ackroyd began to talk about Shakespeare and the audacity of his queerness. Listen, everyone already knows. It’s not news. It was made even worse since Ackroyd proves again and again that the term Bisexual is not in his vocabulary. So, not only did he drop a bomb that was already detonated before he took off, he didn’t even get it right. Shakespeare was a raging bisexual and everyone knows it. What’s next?
Oh, Oscar Wilde–another well-known gay man who served a jail sentence for it. I’m sorry, can you please tell me something I don’t know? Also, Ackroyd doesn’t even talk much about Wilde’s accomplishments in Victorian London, but instead drags him as a child-molester + pedophile. Ackroyd seems to be uncomfortably obsessed with pedophilia and it shows. In fact, that’s seemingly all that he talks about. Ackroyd doesn’t give us a history of queer London; he gives us a history of pedophilia. Which is, in all honesty, a not only gross but despicably inaccurate representation of queer lifestyles.
Not only does Ackroyd fail to actually discuss Queer London, he completely excludes the female element. Apparently the term Gay is exclusively reserved for Male Pedophiles. When Ackroyd does refer to Lesbianism, he typically fails to actually use the term most of the time; instead, it’s just…you know…Gals being Pals™.
My final complaint is that Ackroyd definitely has a thing against Millennials. Being such, the last few chapters left an incredibly sour taste in my mouth, but also cemented my thoughts about this book.
Overall, this is a poor representation of Queer London, and I definitely do not recommend it.
*Thank you to the publisher for providing me with a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influenced my rating. All thoughts are and remain my own.*
Review originally published on my Wordpress blog Ashly Reads.
A look at London’s history through a queer eye. What Ackroyd claims to be a complete history.
Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to Present Day by Peter Ackroyd
★
Genre: Nonfiction
Release Date: 8 May 2018
Source: Free Copy Received in Exchange for Review
On My Shelf: No
I have to say that this cover and then the title just sucked me right in, so I felt I had to request this read from Netgalley. Low and behold, I was approved; but, I wish I hadn’t been.
This was a dense, uncomfortable read in desperate need of an editor. I did not enjoy any part of reading this, and, in fact, skimmed most of the second half of the book.
My first complaint is that Ackroyd does not form any sort of organization in the slightest. He lists fact after fact without giving any clear sense of story or timeframe of when anything is happening. Based on who he was talking about, I usually gained some sort of footing as to the eras of London he was discussing. However, when he did bring up names I recognized, I learned nothing new.
Instead, I felt outraged in the way he talked about historical figures in the hopes of creating that jaw dropping moment for his readers. As someone with an English degree who studied Literature as a minor, I can assure you, it came as no shock when Ackroyd began to talk about Shakespeare and the audacity of his queerness. Listen, everyone already knows. It’s not news. It was made even worse since Ackroyd proves again and again that the term Bisexual is not in his vocabulary. So, not only did he drop a bomb that was already detonated before he took off, he didn’t even get it right. Shakespeare was a raging bisexual and everyone knows it. What’s next?
Oh, Oscar Wilde–another well-known gay man who served a jail sentence for it. I’m sorry, can you please tell me something I don’t know? Also, Ackroyd doesn’t even talk much about Wilde’s accomplishments in Victorian London, but instead drags him as a child-molester + pedophile. Ackroyd seems to be uncomfortably obsessed with pedophilia and it shows. In fact, that’s seemingly all that he talks about. Ackroyd doesn’t give us a history of queer London; he gives us a history of pedophilia. Which is, in all honesty, a not only gross but despicably inaccurate representation of queer lifestyles.
Not only does Ackroyd fail to actually discuss Queer London, he completely excludes the female element. Apparently the term Gay is exclusively reserved for Male Pedophiles. When Ackroyd does refer to Lesbianism, he typically fails to actually use the term most of the time; instead, it’s just…you know…Gals being Pals™.
My final complaint is that Ackroyd definitely has a thing against Millennials. Being such, the last few chapters left an incredibly sour taste in my mouth, but also cemented my thoughts about this book.
Overall, this is a poor representation of Queer London, and I definitely do not recommend it.
*Thank you to the publisher for providing me with a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influenced my rating. All thoughts are and remain my own.*
Review originally published on my Wordpress blog Ashly Reads.
August 4, 2017
I know this book has been getting some pretty poor reviews, but personally I loved it. I can understand how the volume of information can be a bit difficult to follow or focus on, but for someone used to reading academic historical texts (as I did for my degree) I found it fascinating, well-sourced, and deeply entertaining. Ackroyd gives readers a full and multi-faceted perspective on queer history in London, and draws on both historical documents, dairies/biographies, and various cultural mediums from the time. This (along with his witty tone) ensures that readers aren't just bogged down in negative historical evidence of queer people in London (i.e. scandalous articles, prison records, etc.). He also explores various themes and aspects of queer culture to produce a fascinating but continually nuanced approach to the study of queer history. The only thing I disliked about the book were the final few pages, in which Ackroyd talks about 'queerness' in the 21st century and the present state of the 'community', as I didn't entirely agree with his arguments and felt that he didn't make any satisfactory conclusions. However, it is well worth reading this book despite the ending - for a queer person like myself it is deeply affirming, and as a historian I found it delightful and engaging throughout.
September 17, 2018
I'd probably have given this an extra star if I didn't feel like Ackroyd gave up somewhere just after the death of Queen Victoria. The periods from the 15-18th century were brilliantly described; it felt like there was a wealth of content and a lot of the people and events covered were things I'd not heard of before, or at least not in that context. The earlier parts, especially the bits about pre-Roman London were a little too speculative at times for my liking (though that is at least in part due to the relative lack of definite evidence that far back).
I feel like the book was an ambitious attempt to cover an entire swathe of London's 'queer' history, but it ultimately fell flat in the attempts to talk about more contemporary events. I'd say this book is a decent place to start if you're looking for a reasonably quick and accessible overview, and I think I'll definitely make good use of the bibliography and use the anecdotes mentioned by Ackroyd as a jumping-off point for my own research.
I feel like the book was an ambitious attempt to cover an entire swathe of London's 'queer' history, but it ultimately fell flat in the attempts to talk about more contemporary events. I'd say this book is a decent place to start if you're looking for a reasonably quick and accessible overview, and I think I'll definitely make good use of the bibliography and use the anecdotes mentioned by Ackroyd as a jumping-off point for my own research.
May 31, 2017
Oh, such a shame. Seemed to run out of steam towards the end, racing through the 20th and 21st centuries; the time when so much social and political change has occurred.
Also, much of the book talks about stories and situations which are not exclusive to London, so why there is such emphasis on the 'Queer City' I'm not so sure. This is as much a history of sexuality in Britain as it is for London - albeit a very brief, whistle-stop tour of our history.
Also, much of the book talks about stories and situations which are not exclusive to London, so why there is such emphasis on the 'Queer City' I'm not so sure. This is as much a history of sexuality in Britain as it is for London - albeit a very brief, whistle-stop tour of our history.
August 27, 2017
This one funniest books of 2017 that has had me screaming with laughter but also on very serious subject that lot of people are not aware of or care about.
This also proves what I have all ways said Shakespeare is blue.
This also proves what I have all ways said Shakespeare is blue.
April 5, 2021
A guided helicopter tour of 2,000 years of queer history that is perhaps a bit too overambitious
May 14, 2018
I'm giving this book three stars for everything but its final chapter, which goes way downhill. But even before that, it has many flaws. I give kudos to Ackroyd for going back in time to offer up a history of "queerness" (he uses this term as a way of acknowledging the vast differences in the way people thought about sexuality as long as 2100 years ago) in London, back when it was ruled by the Romans. Despite the fact that historians have said that the modern concept of sexual orientation started in the late 19th-century (which some have misunderstood to mean that no one had gay sex on a regular basis before that time), Ackroyd does what some have called an "info dump" of the cultures in which people had sex with members of the same gender (having relationships, especially for men, seemed to be much harder; weirdly, at some points, sexism may have made it easier for lesbians to live together openly), covering millennia in less than 250 pages. The book has been criticized on Goodreads frequently for not pointing out that Ackroyd often describes situations that involve sex with children or what would now be considered rape, but I don't think a reader in 2018 needs him to condemn "underage boy brothels" and it's probably worth considering the vast difference in what was considered moral between Ancient Rome and our current culture. But when we get to the period where Ackroyd, who is now in his 70s, actually lived through, the time from the formation of Britain's Gay Liberation Front to the onset of AIDS is covered in literally 2 pages. Maybe it felt like the first burst of freedom vanished and turned into tragedy that quickly to gay men who lived through it? I'm too young to know firsthand. But he races through the rest of his description of recent and present-day gay life till he gets to transgender and genderqueer people. He doesn't say anything overtly transphobic, but he seems ill at ease with them and implies the fact that many now identify as something other than gay, straight or bisexual is a weird symptom of postmodern culture (again, without saying anything overtly critical.) Coming from a man in his 70s, this doesn't totally surprise me, but it injects a personal perspective into QUEER CITY that's otherwise totally missing from it.
November 30, 2018
This book is very well researched, no doubt about it. It's awesome but it also causes problems for the readers (or me, at least) because after ~100 pages I began feeling as if I were reading the same stories multiple times and as if Ackroyd had decided to include every bit of information he had found. And a lot of it seemed very anecdotal to me, not to mention that the author focused heavily on ~scandals~.
This brings me to another issue I had with "Queer London". The stories Ackroyd found AND chose to include portray almost every gay man as effeminate and every lesbian as masculine. Sure, dressing up as the "opposite" gender was (and still is) a big part of the queer culture. But come on, PART! Not all of it! And besides, how does he know they were gay/lesbian and not trans? He doesn't. After 200 pages or so I also noticed that the men are either prostitutes and abused children or predators and rapists. Sure, violence and abuse make "great" (heavy sarcasm here) stories but how about we stop associating homosexuality with crime and pathologies? It's the 21st century and I thought we already knew that pedophilia and homosexuality are not the same.
And after 230 pages or so... I was really done with reading about violent homophobia. It was exhausting. It was nauseating. Stating facts is one thing. So is remembering how our people suffered (and suffer). It's important. But the light tone and putting real horror stories of violence against queer people right next to humorous poems and "funny" quotes? Not cool.
What I do appreciate was that the author tried to include as many lesbian stories as he could. Or so he said. That still wasn't a lot but he gets points for trying. Many authors barely seem to bother.
But nothing really can change the fact that "Queer London" left a bitter taste in my mouth. Learning new things about queer history is great and I did learn some, sure, but at the cost of having to get through pages and pages of horrific stories of child abuse, rape, torture and pathologies, told as if they were juicy bits from tabloids. Again, not cool.
This brings me to another issue I had with "Queer London". The stories Ackroyd found AND chose to include portray almost every gay man as effeminate and every lesbian as masculine. Sure, dressing up as the "opposite" gender was (and still is) a big part of the queer culture. But come on, PART! Not all of it! And besides, how does he know they were gay/lesbian and not trans? He doesn't. After 200 pages or so I also noticed that the men are either prostitutes and abused children or predators and rapists. Sure, violence and abuse make "great" (heavy sarcasm here) stories but how about we stop associating homosexuality with crime and pathologies? It's the 21st century and I thought we already knew that pedophilia and homosexuality are not the same.
And after 230 pages or so... I was really done with reading about violent homophobia. It was exhausting. It was nauseating. Stating facts is one thing. So is remembering how our people suffered (and suffer). It's important. But the light tone and putting real horror stories of violence against queer people right next to humorous poems and "funny" quotes? Not cool.
What I do appreciate was that the author tried to include as many lesbian stories as he could. Or so he said. That still wasn't a lot but he gets points for trying. Many authors barely seem to bother.
But nothing really can change the fact that "Queer London" left a bitter taste in my mouth. Learning new things about queer history is great and I did learn some, sure, but at the cost of having to get through pages and pages of horrific stories of child abuse, rape, torture and pathologies, told as if they were juicy bits from tabloids. Again, not cool.
May 14, 2020
Hmm. This is a really excellent factual history of queerness in London, punctuated with some very questionable opinions of the author. Either a totally neutral encyclopedia, or a consciously personal account of queer life might be wonderful. If it fell on one side or the other it might get on better, but instead it ends with the author complaining about the "bewildering array of terms" used to describe identity in the 21st century, but very quiet about the seemingly systematic child abuse of earlier times. I'll take the bare facts but will go do some more research on the author himself.
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