You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.22 AVERAGE
3.22 AVERAGE
informative
sad
slow-paced
Interesting at first but it then become mostly lots of different stories about people from history who were queer and while vaguely interesting it wasn’t super gripping and I had other things to read.
didn’t enjoy this as much as i hoped i would ! sort of lacking a clear point- it is definitely a fast-paced look at london’s gay history, but so so much of the evidence is pulled from court documents which inevitably makes this more of a history of the criminalisation of homosexuality/gay acts, rather than the community itself. (this also means that there’s a lot of discussion of sexual violence/assault, which he makes no effort to distinguish from consensual encounters, thus managing to equate gayness with criminality with literally no attempt to acknowledge the deep rooted problematic stereotype that this plays into). the last chapter makes the point that there wasn’t really much of a community until the late 1900s, but there is never any recognition that the evidence base is limited etc. really liked the first couple of chapters and the last one because it had ! a ! point! the rest felt a bit directionless unfortunately. also no interest in intersectionality (other than some occasional commentary re poor people being punished for homosexuality more than rich people) or recognising gender diversity- like it reads as if he has no interest at all in the experiences of trans people, instead much more interested in “revealing” the sex assigned at birth of any of the gender nonconforming people he mentions. actually yeah hated this.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Sexual assault, Sexual violence
Moderate: Transphobia
The first ~120 pages were a fairly dispassionate list of events with no connection and little explanation and at ~230 pages the book felt a bit light on detail. Use the bibliography at the back to find more in depth sources.
The ending was a bit strange. He gives a pretty depressing account of how sanitised and tame London has become, though I couldn't quite figure out what political argument he's making. I found some of the elements of triumphalism a bit hard to take given how contingent this sort of progress can be.
The ending was a bit strange. He gives a pretty depressing account of how sanitised and tame London has become, though I couldn't quite figure out what political argument he's making. I found some of the elements of triumphalism a bit hard to take given how contingent this sort of progress can be.
Cock and bull-dyke story: in an apt choice for Pride Month, Queer City might be better subtitled 'a history of bum-fun in the capital' and Peter Ackroyd does not deviate from bringing up every sort of sex and sexuality in a completely unabashed way. Gosh, there's a lot of it, and to paraphrase Mick Farren, if you can imagine it, somebody's probably writing a social history of it. Ackroyd's special focus is on the 17th to the 19th centuries, and as a result other periods get less of his attention. A quick whisk through Roman and medieval London may be understandable since what evidence there is may be ambiguous and limited, but the few pages devoted to the 1950s on are less forgiveable. It fairly romps, however, through the mollies and man-women of the Restoration and Georgian eras, and the sex scandals of the later Victorian period are worth revisiting. The arse-bishop is a particular joy - humorous contempt for the clerical didn't start with Father Ted. Much of this is a useful reminder of just how far we've come (I'm writing this on the weekend our rather charming gay Lord Mayor of Westminster led this year's parade) but also a warning: crowds are unpredictable and a population that takes you to its bosom can equally opt for pillorying or witch hunts. Don't put your marching sandals back in the closet just yet.
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.
Expansive perhaps to a fault, it ranges from Roman history through to present day, with the final chapter striking some off-key notes for its oversimplified discussion of gender identity and current "state of play" of queer culture (even when reconciling against the publication date).
A whistlestop journey through English queer history, focusing on life in London. It mostly focuses on criminal cases against men as well as the literature and language but also attempts to look at the experience of women and trans people. Running from ancient Britain through to the present day, it works best as a summary and starting-off point for further reading, skimming over much of the history, and omitting details, especially the early to mid 20th century which merits a book of its own. It ends with what reads as a very personal commentary on LGBT+ life in Britain over the past 50 years.
dark
funny
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
A review excerpt on the cover implies this is going to be something of a mad, wild romp through history and, where there is occasional light tones throughout, it still amounts to a chronology of terror and brutality. But that really is to be expected since that is what our history is.
This book is full of great history and great, awful, happy, tragic people. Every stratum is represented, from the poorest street person to the uppermost of royalty. It's a very valuable record. I'm very, very glad it exists
This book is full of great history and great, awful, happy, tragic people. Every stratum is represented, from the poorest street person to the uppermost of royalty. It's a very valuable record. I'm very, very glad it exists