In “Between Boys: Edward Stevenson’s Left to Themselves and the Birth of Gay Children’s Literature,” Eric Tribunella wants to prove that Left to Themselves is fundamentally different from other homoerotic, homosocial boy’s fiction from the same period (including Stevenson’s own White Cockades), and that the text in fact may constitute the first children’s book with a “openly-gay” storyline. 

As Tribunella points out, there is a long tradition of homoeroticism and homosociality in boy’s fiction in the 19th century, specifically of boys caring emotionally and physically for a younger boy (375). So what distinguishes Left to Themselves, which portrays an older Philip caring for a younger Gerald, from more traditional boy’s fiction?

Tribunella argues that Philip and Gerald’s sexuality is coded into the text’s themes of openness and blackmail. The 19th century long associated blackmail with homosexuality: since homosexuality was stigmatized and homosexual actions were often illegal, gay people were particularly vulnerable to blackmail. While the villain Jennison attempts to blackmail Philip over his father’s crimes (and thus implicate Philip’s own “nature” – another possible link to homosexuality, since 19th century studies of homosexuality saw it as a problem of “human nature” (376)), and over his relationship with Gerald refuses to submit. He instead embraces a sort of radical openness: “When Jennison threatens Philip the second time, the youth ultimately replies, “And you believe you can fight the plain story that Gerald and I can tell? Do your worst! I’m not afraid to face it.” (112)” (Tribunella 383). By engaging in the homosexuality-coded trope of blackmail, while embracing an ethic of openness, Left to Themselves follows “traditional” queer concerns of mystery, fear of disclosure and hiding, while also endorsing a non-traditional path out of “closet” of blackmail. This new path is made more obvious by the novel’s unusual ending. In most boy’s fiction that depicts passionate male attachments, the boys are separated at the end by death or relocation or marriage: the pre-eminence of the homosocial bond always comes to an end, superseded by more adult concerns. In Left To Themselves, however, the boys remain together: “ His ‘old head on young shoulders’ for one moment pictured in flashing succession years to come at Gerald’s side, himself his best friend ever, to companion and care for him” (215).

Part of what fascinates me about Left to Themselves is how easily it passed for regular boy’s fiction. It was reprinted multiple times, and the queer subtext remained subtext until Stevenson, writing under another name, essentially outed his own work, saying his children’s books were “ “homosexual in essence” and Left to Themselves was a depiction of “Uranian adolescence” (375). All of this, I think, points to the vexed relationship between homosociality and homosexuality. The heavy amount of homosociality and homoeroticism in boy’s fiction allowed Left to Themselves to slip under the radar, to achieve mainstream success and to get into the hands of child readers, but it also made the entire storyline so ambiguous that the love story between Philip and Gerald could disappear for readers entirely. Moreover, the homosociality in boy’s fiction prior to Left to Themselves seems predicated on a lack of homosexuality. The boys in those books can only be close because they won’t end up together – a heterosexual relationship (or death, or a job) will eventually supersede the male friendship. So books like Left to Themselves seem to have a deeply complicated relationship with their homosocial predecessors: they rely on those texts to “pass,” to create a context in which the relationships they portray are acceptable, but those same “boy’s fiction” texts rely on pushing away the possibility of homosexuality. Left to Themselves ultimately compromises with boy’s fiction: while it portrays a more openly homosexual relationship than most, it is not as open as Stevenson’s Imre, and it ultimately relies on Stevenson himself to anonymously give away the “secret” of the book.

I see a similar trend in the way Stevenson uses Philip’s devotion to Gerald in order to build up Philip’s masculinity. Tribunella argues that the way Philip cares for Gerald makes him into more of a man: “looking at the vulnerable boy with love matures and masculinizes Philip, and […] desire for and care of a beloved can betoken mature manhood for male youths” (377). Again, Stevenson uses one of the most prominent tropes of boy’s fiction – the growth into manhood – for his own purposes. On one level, this technique is deeply subversive, since it argues that manhood and masculinity are compatible with homosexuality. On another level, however, the fact that Stevenson contrasts the masculine, honest Gerald and Philip with the low-dealing and sexually perverse Jennison, who is also coded gay, indicates that only certain forms of homosexuality are acceptable – the kinds that conform to traditional masculinity (open, honest, direct, adventurous – not blackmailing, lying, sexually perverse). If Left to Themselves previews queer children’s literature trends, is this trend – the division into good and bad gay (or “respectable” and “non-respectable”) something we see happening in more contemporary novels? 

Finally, Tribunella does a good job of arguing that Stevenson’s novel may be the first english-language young adult, openly gay novel. I wonder, though, what the equivalent is for lesbian fiction? To me, the importance of Tribunella’s project isn’t that it finds the “first” gay children’s novel, but that it shows that a queer (gay) children’s text existed in the 19th century. Does the same exist for lesbians? The “traditional” first lesbian novel is Radclyff Hall’s The Well of Loneliness (1928), which is not at all a children or young adult novel (although it does depict Stephen Gordon as a child). Some quick searching indicates that the consensus states that the first young adult lesbian novels seem to emerge in the 1970s. Could there be predecessors in the 19th century? As a non-19th century specialist, I honestly don’t know, but I’m curious. There are certainly novels that portray same-gender love and desire – I’m thinking particularly of Lefanu’s Carmilla (1871). Carmilla certainly portrays young women desiring one another, but, of course, one of them is a vampire trying to drain the other one’s blood – perhaps not the best lesbian predecessor!  Nevertheless, it indicates that lesbian themes did exist in 19th century novels (I’m not sure I would argue that Carmilla is young adult, though). Are there other novels that might serve as young adult lesbian predecessors in the 19th century? Or earlier? And if not, what does that indicate about the genre of queer YA?