The Naked Civil Servant

by Quentin Crisp

1977 FONTANA COLLINS PAPERBACK

Genres: Nonfiction, Biography, LGBT, Memoir, Queer, Classics, Gay

217 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 1968

About the author

Quentin Crisp, born Denis Charles Pratt, was an English writer, artist's model, actor and raconteur known for his memorable and insightful witticisms. He became a gay icon in the 1970s after publication of his memoir, The Naked Civil Servant, brought to the attention of the general public his defiant exhibitionism and longstanding refusal to remain in the closet.

Reviews

[Petra X · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are many people famous for doing nothing or very little, who command high salaries for their appearances. Some have done nothing at all, like the entire money and fame-mad Kardashian family (but in this time of recession they are definitely doing their bit to keep the cosmetics industry afloat), some are going to exploit their name and connections, like the Prince Harry and Megan Markle. Some have done just a little but their train-wreck life style continues to fascinate, like Lindsey Lohan and Miley Cyrus. When interviewed they fall flat, they have nothing to say that hasn't been scripted, they have no personalities and no ambitions other than to be famous, rich, beautiful and young forever and ever. Such is their empty philosophy. What they do all have in common is spin doctors, PR companies paid to tirelessly promote these nonenties as products they can make a percentage from.

Quentin Crisp had done absolutely nothing at all (other than being a naked life-class model) to deserve fame, but the force of his personality and his immense moral values brought him fame on the stage, in print and on film. It takes a huge personality to have done nothing and achieve all that. No publicity machine for him.

What he had done is what we would all love to do but don't have the courage. He lived his life exactly as he wanted to, making concessions only where he had to, and then was totally honest about what he had done and why. He hid nothing, not even the sleazy times of prostitution, or worse perhaps. He didn't even hide his filthy ways - he rarely washed and never, ever cleaned his house. He did say it didn't get any worse after the first four years, but later he said he'd been wrong, and in fact it did.

In real life and on the stage he was just himself - he spoke from his heart and not from a script. The script that John Hurt followed when playing Quentin Crisp in two films had been approved by him. No script, but he did have an agenda.

He had been charged with importuning in the street. He wasn't guilty, that time, but was the victim of some nasty, homophobic policemen's stitch-up. His defence was magnificent. He laid his entire life on the line and was acquitted by a judge who had started out not just unsympathetic but actively despising this ageing queer with makeup and pastel-coloured hair. Quentin Crisp's message to the court was that morals have nothing to do with the law, if you haven't broken the law you are innocent no matter how you want to live your life. Find your own moral compass and be true to it. Help others be true to theirs.

The world was less colourful, less moral and less witty the day Quentin Crisp passed away. Read his book AND see the films to see this man and admire his strength, personality and rather witty, gay turn of phrase.

[Paul Bryant · Rating 5 out of 5]

My father hated me chiefly because I was revolting but also because I was expensive.

Dates are important, ask any camel. Quentin Crisp was born in 1908. This funny and truly outrageous autobiography was published in 1968. Quentin was the Oscar of his day, and this book is stuffed with Wildeish observations –

I did not know that a reputation for wit is earned not for making jokes but by laughing at the pleasantries of others

Or – here he is recalling a conversation from the 1930s between a landlord and a tenant :

Landlord : I want you all to know that there is a coal-black Negro living at the top of the house.
Lodger : Oh dear! And there’s no lock on my door.
Landlord : In that case, Mrs Thomas, you will have to think of some other method of preventing his escape.

Seven years later John Hurt was cast as Quentin himself in a great tv adaptation of this book, and suddenly Quentin was famous, at the age of pushing 70. After that he toured in a one man show and I saw him in the 1980s at Nottingham Playhouse.

Quentin is for modern readers a hideously awkward case. I wanted to reread this book to remind myself. I think many modern readers of all and any sexual orientation including cis-sies like myself might simply explode before they get to page 100. And this is all about the evolution of attitudes.

Quentin knew he was gay from a very young age. He was determined never to hide the fact from anyone.

I became not merely a self-confessed homosexual but a self-evident one. That is to say I put my case not only before the people who knew me but also before strangers. This was not difficult to do. I wore make-up at a time when even on women eye-shadow was sinful. Many a young girl in those days had to leave home and go on the streets simply in order to wear nail varnish…. Blind with mascara and dumb with lipstick I paraded the dim streets of Pimlico…

In those days – we are talking about the 1920s here! One hundred years ago! So there was the young Quentin dyeing his long hair flaming red, painting his nails, plucking his eyebrows, slapping on the slap, and getting – naturally – beaten up for it on a regular basis, as well as getting barred from pubs, clubs and any outpost of polite society. You might then figure him for a brave decades-early lone warrior for gay liberation – except you have to put up with such comments as

I regarded all heterosexuals, however low, as superior to any homosexual, however noble.

Well, I think this is him in 1968 saying how viciously homophobia was internalised in the 1920s and 30s. It’s a rather challenging way of saying it though!

His gay friends were not happy with his in-your-face style.

They were angry with me for presenting to the world, by whose good opinion they set great store, a brand image of homosexuality that was outrageously effeminate…. An American actor expressed to me the view that obviously gay boys were “spoiling it for the rest”. I was dumbfounded by this remark… It was as though he had said that consumptives who coughed ruined for others all the fun of tuberculosis.

Yes, underneath all the flaunting, Quentin thinks being gay was some kind of curse. He wouldn’t have voted for it, given the choice. But he saw that he had no choice. So, you may say he was very enlightened in some ways, and really not in others. Well, as Osgood Fielding says in Some Like It Hot, nobody’s perfect.

Here’s another interesting quote :

I was over thirty before, for the first time, I heard someone say that he did not think of himself as masculine or feminine but merely as a person attracted to other persons with male sexual organs. A confession of this nature would still bewilder, and, perhaps, anger, some of my homosexual friends.

This early sighting of gender fluidity gains Quentin’s approval, as you see, but it’s not long before some of his other less benign opinions pop up like a surprisingly vicious plastic duck in a bathtub. What a book….

Recommended to all.

[ALLEN · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sting [Gordon Sumner] dedicated his song "Englishman in New York" (1987) to Crisp. He had remarked jokingly "that he looked forward to receiving his naturalisation papers so that he could commit a crime and not be deported." In late 1986 Sting visited Crisp in his apartment and was told over dinner – and the next three days – what life had been like for a homosexual man in the largely homophobic Great Britain of the 1920s to the 1960s. Sting was both shocked and fascinated and decided to write the song. It includes the lines:

It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile,
Be yourself no matter what they say.

Sting says, "Well, it's partly about me and partly about Quentin. Again, I was looking for a metaphor. Quentin is a hero of mine, someone I know very well. He is gay and he was gay at a time in history when it was dangerous to be so. He had people beating up on him on a daily basis, largely with the consent of the public."

(Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quentin...)

There's an anecdote in this charming and astringent memoir that epitomizes THE NAKED CIVIL SERVANT for me: in the 1930s, Quentin Crisp (name at birth Denis Charles Pratt) worked in an office and was sent to buy a pair of scissors for that office. Instead of going to Woolworth's and picking up a cheap pair for sixpence (about fifteen cents U.S. then; perhaps a buck or two today), he went to a good stationer's and spent two shillings sixpence for a nice pair (five times what the Woolie's model cost). The assistant to whom he brought the scissors was aghast at the high price, until Crisp facetiously suggested calling the new acquisition "paper shears" rather than scissors. THAT made the purchase okay, to Crisp's surprise and chagrin.

Quentin Crisp just wasn't constructed to live in "straight" society, and sexuality only sometimes had anything to do with it. He did decide, as a young man, to "brazen it out" and live as an effeminate gay man, on the theory that he would never pass for straight. He took the lumps (physical and metaphorical) associated with such out-ness, but he had a lot of fun, too, just being himself. Gay or straight, the reader who wants a witty, vastly well written and insightful memoir from Interwar England (1919-1939) will be well rewarded.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reading this book makes me happy and sad at the same time, which feels a bit like how I imagine mixing uppers and downers must: discombobulated, and a bit ill.

In other words, I'm really enjoying it!

So far I'd recommend this to anyone, though I have to warn those who are afraid of homosexuals that they will probably be unable to sleep for weeks after reading this book. So if you are one of the many people frightened by homosexuals, I'd only recommend it if you are also a fan of terror.

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I wish Mr. Crisp had been writing advice columns for Seventeen magazine when I was growing up. He might have saved me some investigation and trouble later on:


There is no great dark man.

Even under an exterior as rugged as a mountain range, there lurks the same wounded, wincing psyche that cripples the rest of us. Where we are led to think we will find strength, we shall discover force; where we hope for ruthlessness, we shall unearth spite; and when we think we are clinging desperately to a rock, it is falling upon us. Even with a man whose neck is thicker than his head, if we are not careful, we shall be involved in an argument about who most loves whom. The trouble is that, if you find by mistake you have bitten into a soft center, you can't very well put it back in the box (p. 141).


(At the risk of sounding more-than-mildly brain damaged, I'll make the suprising statement here that Quentin Crisp displays a striking amount of insight into the topic of gender roles.)

------------

Wow. This book didn't end at all the way I'd expected.

Not to get all corny, but this is a brave book. It was really sad but, as suggested above, an often amusing pleasure. I don't read much memoir, so I'm not sure which qualities were specific to the book and which are characteristic of the genre, but at any rate, I do recommend this. It really gets astutely into some very rare stuff about the experience of being human, which, at the end of the day, is pretty much all I'm after when I open any book.

[George Ilsley · Rating 5 out of 5]

The humour here is of the sort where one has to laugh at adversity. The bullies and bigots are defied and resisted by making jokes. One survives by being stronger and somewhat detached, and that can mean acting the fool.

Crisp was a clown, a jester, but also a wise village elder. Even so, there are gruelling segments about how to get home without getting beaten up. Personal safety was a big concern (and sadly it still is for many in the world). The result is brutal and funny, sharp, scathing and bitchy.

[Kelly (Maybedog) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quentin Crisp is a delightful, smart and engaging man and his book is an entertaining, funny as well as tragic, insight into what it was like to be flamboyantly gay in the early part of the twentieth century. It's a fabulous story of a very brave man who stuck by his ideals and refused to be anything but who he was.

I was very fortunate to meet the man while in college. He came to Seattle for a book signing and took the time to meet with the GBLT Alliance at the University of Washington of which I was co-chair. It was such an honor and privilege to meet and dine with him. He spent the whole time asking us about our lives! When we got him to talk about himself he was humble, polite, self-effacing, and very funny. His book is the same way.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

“When the telegram announcing my father’s death arrived, I felt nothing except irritation at the thought of having to go home, attend the funeral, and come back.”

Quentin Crisp is not a likeable human being. About one quarter way into this book, I was tempted to throw it aside for good. But given its generally favorable reviews, I felt I should give it another chance. And a peculiar thing happened. Although Crisp does nothing to present himself in a more favorable light – if anything, he goes out of his way to make the point that the reader’s approval matters nothing to him – by the two-third mark, one cannot help but develop a grudging admiration for the man.

It’s hard to know why this happens – perhaps just a case of sympathy for the underdog. Crisp was born in a time when homosexuality really was the love that dare not speak its name, and made his mark by never obliging those who would have him live life in a shadow, instead choosing to flaunt his difference. This book is an account of the price exacted. While the reader may be moved toward a grudging admiration for Crisp’s refusal to be ground down by the prejudice and cruelty surrounding him, it’s impossible to feel any real sympathy for the man. Because, ultimately, this is the autobiography of a narcissist. Reviews of this book invariably mention its wit and brilliant self-mockery, qualities I found singularly absent. Given a 200-page book in which no other character appears as remotely human, as anything other than a sketch or cipher, and in which the author admits to never having loved, or been loved, the final effect of this strangely empty memoir is bleak indeed. I feel a certain admiration for Quentin Crisp. But I can’t say that I enjoyed spending time in his company.

[Evan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I first became aware of Crisp from his appearances on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson back in the days of my tender youth, the 1970s and 1980s. I found this old flamboyant, colorfully dressed and mascara-and-rouge-laden British queen and his tales to be mesmerizing. Then I read his autobiography, The Naked Civil Servant, which proved that he was quite a bold subversive in his day; he chose to live "out," and outrageously so, in a time (1930s, '40s and '50s) when it was extremely dangerous to be yourself. You've got to admire his courage to make a stand instead of playing it safe. I later saw the film version too, well cast with John Hurt playing Crisp. But the book is the real one to grab. Crisp reminded a staid British public of realities they preferred to sweep under the rug, but he wouldn't let them. Crisp was not a great man in the traditional sense; he didn't make much money (lived in poverty most of his life) or invent anything, and he could be cantankerous, petty and "bitchy." Even his autobiographical writing is, at best, competent. The important point is that he lived a very interesting life, and dared to live it his way. This is fascinating stuff.

[Mariel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Only a lifetime of receiving the confidences of unhappily married middle-aged women brought me to the realization that in time, even for heterosexuals, sex is reduced to an indoor sport. This was consoling. It is nice to be in the same boat as one's betters, especially if it is sinking.

He was the person that lashes what they are afraid you are thinking. Before you get the chance they will wield the martyr, and the whiplash is from turning their neck too fast to get the full effect. Because he frequently puts down his own prose style I can't say that he's the poor girl's Stephen Fry or the destitute girl's Oscar Wilde. Crisp says health is having the same disease as your neighbors. That's like when cool is pretending with someone like you. But what about when no one is watching? He's so makeup, such red hair, oh those twisting hips. Coarse hookups whisper that he wiggles his fanny like a woman. The homosexual clubs don't want him. The streets don't want him and only the streets will have him. I kept thinking about that part in Charles Bukowski's Ham on Rye. The pimply awkward kid drowning to make it hates the boy worse off than himself. Sore thumb boy doesn't try, only hides behind Chuck. He cuts the piggy in the middle and doesn't stick out for him with the institutionalized thugs any more. Quentin Crisp is that boy. It's awful to read about their fat fists beating his purple into a pulp. I don't believe he who doesn't like homosexuals was adopting their space signs as a CAUSE. He wanted someone to protect him. The great dark man with strong arms to encircle him in the dark. I suspected it was all shit. That he was going to confront anyone else. What HE wanted was someone unimpeachable to HIM to make him feel better about him. I don't know about his convictions that homosexuality was a mental illness. Shit swimming in glass jars with Crisp's grand ideas about homosexuality. Normal straight world versus the servile dilettantes. Fake women men as women puppet strings making you a not real boy girl.

He says that he has never been loved and never in love. He says that women and men clash in personalities passions. Men force their way to body. I guess if he had ever been in love he would have broken up when it settled and live went on in that awful my-love-life-is-supposed-to-fill-every-void. Quentin Crisp is deeply irritating a lot of this. Outside, too. His older man "revelations" that good manners will get you what you want. How about seeing people as something besides what you want from them? He will admit that he's the most self righteous tool in the box and still try to pretend he scammed restaurants out of free meals every day for ages because his roommate had the idea. He says that if people saw him as a contributing member to society instead of a thief it would make a difference for homosexual image in England. He still opines his misfortune in life once he's left home and no one is taking care of him any longer. He likely would have been well off if he had ever found a boyfriend to dark horse his life. But there is chump change in alley ways with men who go home to their wives and mothers. It was his many con artist schemes that interested me about The Naked Civil Servant. The student he teaches tap dance by learning a move ahead of her. Mervyn Peake illustrated his first book because he told Peake it was to be published. His book was published because he told them Peake was the illustrator. He put himself in the situation by tarting up and then maybe he was spiting his self-hating by slithering out of it. I just wanted him to be who he really was and not pretend it was for anyone else. When he's in legal trouble or getting out of the army on cause of "sexual perversions". But he could die as well as anyone else? Not witty, Quentin, fake as shit. Why was he really in that army office attempting to sign up? What is the use of an autobiography that short changes on this stuff? What was the use of confronting people with the "real" him? He never says what he wanted to happen to change for homosexuals. The freak show tactic he took (because he believed they were) was so wrong but mostly I'm at at a loss because this is the kind of lying that drags you down. If you got him when they've beaten him up, before a story has time to reinforce. I suspect the true Quentin Crisp love story is that he was an ugly man. He'd be related to those who don't feature in their own fantasies. If he's not telling the story.... He had hands that didn't leave him alone in rock bottom. I don't have any answers about why their unreach to heaven wasn't enough. I don't have answers about loneliness that has nothing to do with anyone else. I suspect Crisp knew about it but didn't have any either. He'd get closer to it if no one was watching him. Attention was not a good thing to happen to him.

I liked how he made some allusion to a silent film and the 1970s tv film ran with it. His too Quentin Crisp to be a real person one liners are turned into silent film dialogue cards. That was great, like he thought he had to be over the top in a deaf world. John Hurt gave him a layer of self awareness that the memoirness of this didn't have. It's good to have both, the living too long with your own myth of A Naked Civil Servant the book and the martyr Crisp of the movie. I don't know if I believe him in the book when he says that he didn't give his friends enough. He's now fifty and his seventy-year-old Czech friend has made their only-relationship-he-still has (he's in a mental institution and Crisp still visits him) into a sexual one. The johns he passively aggressively attempts to turn away by lack of enthusiasm alone. The dullest tool in the box he lets live with him when he has nowhere else to go. Crisp in the book knows he makes him his slave because he never could with the rest of the world. Movie Crisp just lies there. Book Crisp is limp. The only sex he has is purchased or forced on him by not saying no. Sex-is-everything-for-lack-of-felt-sex-is-impotent.

I've heard that about how Crisp was the "elder statesmen of homosexuals" in England before. In the end of the film the aged Crisp is confronted by the they got younger hooligans. He gives them that line (I guess it was supposed to mean something that he doesn't keep his mind on his step and his eye on nothing). Yeah, I don't know that exists. There is no such thing as control of a world that allows you to age gracefully. Men at work get so bent out of shape with rage that old women at work don't make their dicks hard. I can't deal with this. It's more like pulling together parts of the world that isn't like that.

[F.R. · Rating 3 out of 5]

There’s an old English expression: “he does go on about the price of fish.” Basically it means someone is holding long discourse on a subject that no one else is particularly interested in. It’s a phrase which came to mind as I read Quentin Crisps’s autobiography, his great subject being himself and his distance from the rest of mankind.

The tale of how he became one of the great characters of Soho – and “the stately homo of England” – should be a fascinating one, but it’s page 90 before he’s forced to concede that other people do exist and that continuing high-level of self-absorption is wearying. (He did produce an audio-book version, and I wonder whether the cadences and drama of his voice would make the whole easier to digest in that form). As it is, there are some great scenes, witty lines and descriptions of attacks upon his person which are frankly terrifying, but this is probably a book to dip into rather than read from start to finish.

[Sophy H · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quentin Crisp is a legend.

I've seen the film production of this title starring John Hurt (oh how I miss John Hurt), and found it spellbinding so I wanted to read the actual text.

Crisp is acerbically candid about his lifestyle, proclivities and interests. He is a true agent provocateur, and in his time, stood alone in fierce defence of his lifestyle choices. He is by turns hilarious, cutting, tragic and raw. I love that he points out how arbitrary people's hatred of him is. The mob attention turns on a dime from curiosity and wonder to hatred and vitriol, to eventual indifference (which ironically is what Crisp fears the most, being an exhibitionist).

He is an iconic trailblazer in the field of camp. I love this read.

[Maria Lago · Rating 5 out of 5]

De verdad que no estoy dando las 5 estrellas de manera automática, por pura reverencia hacia el personaje/persona de Crisp. Es difícil leer con perspectiva un libro así, porque un diario es pura emoción y puro morbo. O sea, las peripecias de otros... Ahora mismo estoy leyendo otro diario, André Gide nada menos, muchísimo más comedido y burgués, si se quiere, y funciona igual: cuéntemelo todo, señor, ¡quiero saber más!
Y con su ingenio me ha ganado. Incluso en las partes de más dudosa moralidad victoriana. Es que es gracioso hasta cuando le van a pegar una paliza: "Do your worst, it won't be mine" le dice saleroso al matón de turno.
A reír.

[Sheryl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply a delightful memoir full of delicious and hilarious bon mots.
Quentin's unapologetic efforts to live life on his own terms in spite of persecution and worse are inspirational. Highly recommend the excellent audiobook which is read in a high camp style (without really trying to imitate Crisp's distinctive vocal affectation)

[Jake Goretzki · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pretty funny and one to add to anyone’s London / Soho collection.

Firstly, he’s pretty admirable for his sheer resilience and not-give-a-fuckery - and his whole late-in-life success is in itself a charming story (something he’d no doubt call ‘Rags to Bitches’, or suchlike). He’s also very honest: never claiming to have much in the way of talent (though he has far more than he gives himself credit for and can write very well. There are many funny lines) .

What is intriguing is that while one assumes this is confessional, it’s still overwhelmingly façade (someone whose life is devoted to performance probably wouldn’t do it any other way). So, if anyone hoped to get to the heart of the man, they won't find it here. Everything is show - down to the confessions. When he says things like he ‘never loved anyone’ or that he and his lover gave up sex one day at the drop of a hat in some pithy, one-line flourish, I find myself not believing the raconteur. It’s all in the cause of anecdote and a decent pun, really. Likewise, claims like intentionally wearing shoes many sizes too small (really, QC? Would you really? Maybe).

The punning and epigram-speak (Crisperanto!) itself is integral to the book and works superbly. He’d be amazingly easy to parody. His turn of phrase - very attention-seeking and melodramatic, speaker-as-star – now sounds very eighties pop star to me. Lines like (to misquote) ‘I wanted to have my cake but not eat it’ and ‘people always buy books about things they already know’ - you can hear Morrissey in them and Boy George (especially the latter’s ‘I’d rather have a nice cup of tea than have sex’). There’s some truth buried in some of them, though I did start agreeing when we learn that later on even Quentin’s audience get tired of hearing his lines (I have met a fair few people like this in my life).

Some good glimpses of social history here too. The police, pre-Repeal: what a bunch of thugs. I still think we need a sort of Apartheid Museum for the treatment of gay men and women, with exhibits to the present day. Quentin laughs it off and isn’t a campaigner, but he’s hard hearted on that one.

Lastly - I love the fact that his real name was Denis Pratt.

[Juan Naranjo · Rating 5 out of 5]

La historia de Quentin Crisp es la historia del siglo XX en todo lo relativo a la sociedad, al arte y, por supuesto, a la homosexualidad.
Quentin era un personaje, un buscavidas, una celebridad (primero local, después global) sin ningún motivo aparente. Aunque se dedicó al arte comercial, al cine, al teatro y al modelaje, nunca tuvo un duro, y vivió siempre una vida llena de carencias, pero también de opulencia.
En la primera de sus tres autobiografías, Quentin cuenta su vida, desde la ironía y el humor, desde su nacimiento hasta su madurez. Con este libro nos permite acompañarle en el difícil trance de ser un mariquita medio travesti en el Londres de entreguerras, en la Segunda Guerra Mundial y en los años 50, 60 y 70, hasta que le da un barrunto, coge sus cosas y se va a Nueva York. En Londres ya no le quedaba nadie a quien impresionar con su atuendo, a quien fascinar con sus historias.
Desde ese momento (y el estreno de la versión cinematográfica de su obra más famosa), la fama de Quentin se multiplica. Tiene un rifirrafe con Borroughs, se empieza a juntar con Warhol y toda la alta sociedad neoyorkina, y pasa a sobrevivir sólo a base de las invitaciones a galas y cenas, de las que se alimentaba a cambio del placer de su compañía.
La gente iba a visitarlo, a oirle a hablar, a saber la historia de su vida. Eso hizo Sting (que parece ser que en los ochenta era sorprendentemente guapo), y después de estar tres días escuchándole hablar sin descanso, se fue del apartamento de Crisp y escribió esa canción que yo siempre he odiado, pero que ahora tiene un nuevo significado para mí: "English man in New York".
Por cierto, en el videoclip sale Quentin, ya anciano y regio, y me ha parecido muy emocionante verle así.
Tristemente, sólo encuentro esta obra de Quentin traducida al castellano.

[Shadowdenizen · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing look into a bygone-era, and into one of the personages that began laying the fundamental brickwork to change society as it was known forever.

(Though, to be fair, let it be said that Quentin Crisp [though he paints himself in a primarily positive light], was NOT the nicest or most-likable of people, and yet [even though he claims to effectively "Not give a damn" about people's opinions] it's still hard not to truly empathize with him and his plight.)

It's difficult to imagine the courage it took to live openly as a gay-man back in the 30's, 40's and 50's, and the toll it must have taken. (As a 40-something gay man, I can remember how difficult it was to come out in the pre-Will & Grace 1980's!)

And yet even in this comparatively enlighted age of the Internet and Caitlin Jenner, it's STILL hard for many people to find the courage to speak out and identify themselves!

Which is why this book resonates still to this day, and is even more important than ever, as a lesson in being true to yourself and your beliefs, whatever they may be.

[. · Rating 5 out of 5]

An incredibly important story that I'm grateful to have discovered. Quentin Crisp is both hilarious in his writing and poignant with his societal call-outs. It's inspiring to read the story of a gay man, born in 1908, who embraced his femininity and chose to live as who he is inside, rather than stifle himself down to fit in with heteronormativity. Choosing to live as himself was a form of protest. I cried at his reflections of loneliness, rejection, and humanity. This is an underrated queer classic.

"Words had become a salve with which to heal the wounds inflicted on me by experience." (196)

[Mark · Rating 2 out of 5]

I've seen Quentin Crisp on documentaries and, of course, the famous portrayal by John Hurt and, quite frankly I expected something more witty and amusing. There are some things that you can relate to; Quentin's extraordinary appearance was really just his time's equivalent of my never leaving the house without my jacket covered in badges proclaiming, "Closets are for Clothes - Not People" and "Gay and Proud", when I first came out, having been bullied all my childhood for being a "puff", I was now going to leave nobody in any doubt!

However, Quentin's past is as much a construct as his appearance; I doubt there is even one true word in his narrative of his childhood and few more in his supposed adult story. His attitude to sex seems to be that he was never interested, but went with anyone who could bear to touch him, however roughly or animalistic, simply because it was "expected" and he couldn't think of a good enough reason not to.

I know it's like a historical document now, but the book is populated with a cast of characters such as would frequent the more downmarket, decrepit and nastier pubs in Manchester's Gay past; the kind of places where only the alcoholics, bad trannies and rent boys hung out. I don't think I read about one character that I wouldn't cross the road to avoid! And, as much as I admire Crisp's courage in making a stand, he inadvertently created a stereotype that most of us have had to try to live down and dissociate ourselves from, having had this stereotype flung at us throughout sad, lonely, bullied childhoods.

I’m glad that I have, finally, actually read this book, rather than simply relied on the TV adaptation, as it is a part of our shared Gay heritage and no doubt, without Crisp we might not enjoy the limited acceptance and freedoms that we take for granted today, but I can’t say that I enjoyed> it, nor that I will ever feel like picking it up again!

[Bryan Schwartz · Rating 5 out of 5]

For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Crisp I think a brief explanation may be in order. In my estimation, Mr. Crisp was the modern "reincarnation" of Oscar Wilde. And I should note that the comparison does not stop with their dandyism and homosexuality. Beyond those superficial similarities, Mr. Crisp unconsciously (possibly consciously) replicated Mr. Wilde's quick and seemingly effortless wit. Crisp, however, drifts into the melancholy corners of rejection, disenfranchisement, and homophobia. Though he never lingers in these areas for long, such moments serve as a distinct difference between Mr. Crisp and his historical counterpart.

Towards the end of his life, Mr. Crisp faced a fair bit of deserved criticism for his stance on homosexuality and AIDS ("AIDS is a fad, nothing more."). And yet, even when they were wrong, I find it hard not to find Crisp's convictions endearing.

While his writing can be disorganized and overly decorated, the flow of The Naked Civil Servant is never lost for long. I might even go so far as to say that the scattered nature of the book's subject matter offers a more complete reflection of its author. While gay men (and women) are more likely to sympathize with Crisp's anecdotes, I would comfortably recommend this book to anyone regardless of their sexual orientation. It's a fascinating portrait of homosexuality in the early to mid 20th century and a fun read.

[Ellen]

Quentin Crisp didn't really come out of the closet; he just decided to do exactly what he liked (wear eyeliner and women's shoes, grow out his fingernails) and deal with the consequences of being openly gay in 1931. He got beat up a lot, but became a kind of cult figure as an eccentric (he was also an art-school model) and, eventually, the star of his own documentary. Crisp seems determined to reveal the worst parts of his own nature, but he comes off as an oddly cuddly old man. I'm sure he's rolling over in his grave because I said that, but there you have it. Prickly, but oddly cuddly.

(Random fun fact: He also was the inspiration for the Sting song "Englishman in New York" and appears in the music video. If you care. Which you probably don't.)

[od1_40reads · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quentin Crisp, one of recently history’s queer icons for sure. I read his autobiography today, for the first time. I’ve known about it for decades, ever since I saw the TV adaption with John Hurt years ago when I was teenager, and always wanted to read the book, just never got around to it. I recently acquired this 1968 first edition (ex-library copy) and wanted to read it to include in my Pride Month Picks.

When I think of Quentin Crisp I think of fabulous flamboyantness, quick witty one-liners and comebacks, and a trailblazer for many queer rights movements to come. And that is all certainly here. However one of the main elements of this book, which was perhaps played down somewhat for TV (maybe not, my memory may not serve my that well here), is the horrific homophobia that Crisp was subjected to throughout almost his entire life. Read from our 21st century perspective it’s really quite shocking and upsetting.

I had expected to laugh and enjoy reading this today. But actually much of it is pretty dark and upsetting. Crisp first came out in the early 1930s, and the London he introduces us to in his book is ridged with social constructs that date back to Victorian times. There was no scope in society to allow homosexuality in the slightest, and far less Crisp and his gender-nonconformist appearance.

The brutality of the police is often referred to, which is shocking and upsetting; as is that of society in general. But one of the most saddening aspects is Crisp’s acceptance of it, his normalisation of it, and in fact to quote he says “I regarded all heterosexuals, however low, as superior to any homosexual, however noble”. In his reference ‘however low’, he is referring to his attackers.

I really appreciate the original artwork of this edition too, as I think it demonstrates the book’s darker themes, as opposed to the modern editions I’ve seen, which seem to reference only Crisp’s wit and flamboyant nature. But this book is basically about homophobia. On all sorts of levels. And anyone who hasn’t read it yet should be prepared for that.

I think it’s an important book in queer literature, and one that most certainly should not be forgotten about.

[Aaron · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I stumble toward my grave confused and hurt and hungry..."

Now that is how you end a memoir.

[Daniel Polansky]

The autobiography of Quentin Crisp, a famed member of the homosexual London underworld for much of the 20th century, recollections of his misadventures and thoughts about life and society. I am in rough awe of this book. I was impressed with it in a way which makes me almost not want to praise the thing too highly, for fear that today’s exhilaration will give way to tomorrow’s regret. On the other hand, who gives a shit what I think, so what I think is that this is a straight masterpiece. Crisp is a fabulous, fabulous comic writer, lacerating and laconic. His observations are pithy and astute, and while his twin obsessions – himself and homosexuality (his observations on ‘deviant’ sexual mores are on par with Proust) – are particularly well-served, anywhere Crisp decides to shed his light he offers valuable insight. Some might, I suppose, be put off by his campy bitterness, but I found his cynicism neither insincere nor undeserved given the man’s suffering and frankly the general state of the world, and in any event it was always cut with levity. Strong recommendation.

Update 3.16.25 -- Mid-century London's preeminent homosexual gadfly narrates his life history in ridiculously sharp prose. In my review of this some seven years ago I wrote 'I was impressed with it in a way which makes me almost not want to praise the thing too highly, for fear that today’s exhilaration will give way to tomorrow’s regret,' but in fact I'm not sure I quite did I justice. Crisp is obscenely witty, every line is sharp and clever, his comically bitter self-focus makes for an engaging anti-hero. But there's also a genuine sense of the profound tragedy of the human condition, one sharpened by Crisp's adoption of a persona of permanent outcast. Perhaps I'm not the best judge but for my money this absolutely belongs in the top tier of queer literature.

[figaro · Rating 5 out of 5]

what a wonderful book. as her bff Mr. Ward has said it is a work with sadness... but sadness deprived of self pity. i thought it was, for the most part, so very depressing and miserable, and it made it all worse to think she really lived through all that. such interesting anecdotes which leave me in a bundle of so many emotions. entertaining, inspiring, saddening.... I am so glad that in the end she found refuge in a place that appreciated her. slay and yas... great story of perseverance, resistance, expression, identity, and the freedom to be oneself. what is wrong is often never with you, but the outside world. the writing is wonderful, the wit and wisdom is evident... humor so dark you feel bad for laughing, but it's rich. such a character, she was. so polite and accepting and kind but so daring and.. well, she just lived. lots of good insight into queer life. i related to the ballet teachee when she said quentin shouldntve made everything funny because its depressing. Oh well. I loved it. You could say the humor is quite... crisp. I love you Quentin you deserve better. You would've loved twitter. Oh yeah my favorite parts was when she described jobs n shit and when she did stuff for theatre and especially during ww2 and also the black cat tavern era. So many things in this book are so entertaining some in a nice and some in a bad way I would 100% reread them from time to time. Sorry this is the last edit i swear i cant get my mind off of this. So gut wrenchingly raw and bittersweet and real and humorous... at times the narcissism and questionable opinions and rambles and opposing self mockery consumes you but its great as hell

[Christopher Roth · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant. I had no idea what to expect and so was blown away by the lucid psychological insight. This is an especially rich vein of material for anyone wanting to understand the co-creation of "queer culture" by social, psychological, and cultural forces. There is a huge amount to digest in here. Plus, it's hilariously funny throughout and also deeply inspiring. This dude realized he was gay at an early early age and decided very early that he would never be hypocritical about it and would never hide it. This put him in serious mortal danger numerous times. Dressed in boas, make-up, and lipstick—in the 1930s!—he would often cause riots by his mere presence in public. After one such instance, a magistrate asked him why he dressed in a way that invited such violent response and he said, "Well, this is who I am and I wouldn't like anyone to think I was ashamed of it." (The judge let him go.) Nonetheless, it is painful to read how at the same time a sense of shame and self-loathing was an essential part of his queer identity. Complicated stuff. An absolutely riveting and fascinating read.

[Gerry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Naked! Well Quentin Crisp is literal with his title adjective as he does expose himself fully (metaphorically that is!) in this frank and witty autobiography.

He is an interesting chap who discovered his sexuality at an early age. He had an unhappy childhood and eventually found his way to London, where he flourished despite the many knockbacks and abuse that he received.

He had a variety of odd jobs because he found it difficult to gain full employment because of his being different, mainly in appearance. He also had a number of relationships, none of which lasted but none of this prevented him seeing life with a great deal of humour.

He felt that 'any film is better than real life' and this autobiography tells all of what happened in the earlier part of it before he went to America.

He is a true British eccentric, has, quite rightly, become a cult figure and if for nothing else, he has to be admired for his views on dusting and cleaning!

A very enjoyable read.

[Lewis Woolston · Rating 5 out of 5]

Is it just me or does there seem to be less and less genuine eccentrics in society these days? When i was a young man there were plenty of "odd birds" as we used to say who had lived wild, non-respectable and utterly fascinating (to me) lives. Now it seems the corporatization of the world has stamped out all individuality in people and we've all just become boring worker/consumer drones.
Quentin Crisp was a true eccentric.
Openly homosexual when that was still a shocking crime he lived life on his own terms and apologised for nothing. His wit and wisdom would have made him the toast of any party or gathering he managed to get invited to.
This is his memoir of his thoroughly disreputable life and i loved every minute of it. The gay beats and grim boarding houses of London come alive in his telling. I wish i could have met Quentin when he was alive, i think he would have been a hoot.

[Bloodorange · Rating 4 out of 5]

"...an autobiography is an obituary in serial form with the last installment missing."

"When the war ended and it dawned on me that never again was I likely to play a leading role in the streets of London, I started to live a rich, full life by proxy. I took to the movies. This was an admission of weakness - dearer but less embarrassing than evening classes. All culture - even popular forms of it - was in my eyes a sin. To point out that works of art were beautiful did not justify their creators. Pearls were beautiful but only diseased oysters had them. The enjoyment of works of art seemed to me even more damnable than the fabrication of them, since there could never be any money in it. Moreover, to read a novel or see a play was to drink life through a straw - to smoke it through a filter tip."

[Jenevieve · Rating 4 out of 5]

A friend recommend this to me as I was looking for an author whose name (first or last) began with Q for a challenge. It looked interesting so I picked it up not quite sure what I was in for but trusting that it would, at least, be an interesting read.

It was an amazing read. Witty, insightful, humorous at times, poignant, and unfortunately also a sad commentary on the human race as a whole in how we treat those who are different especially if they are true to themselves instead of hiding it away. No matter what tho, I walk away after reading it admiring Quentin for his honesty in how he lived his life.

[Megan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This should be required reading for students of politics, sociology, creative writing, journalism, twentieth century history,and philosophy. And probably a few others.

To a twenty-first century reader, Crisp initially feels like a caricature of a drag queen, with his made up face, gossipy tone, and outlandish fashion. But when you recall that he was born in 1908 and the book was originally published in 1968, you quickly understand that he was the forefather of the beloved stereotype of the bitchy gay best friend. I mean that with the greatest respect.

The pace of the book is quick, almost fleeting, but not flighty. He crams the first 2/3 of his long storied life into a very slim volumen, clipping along with what feels like carefree-ness, but which actually becomes exposed as clear-cut bohemianism--a conscious unconcern with convention that permeates Crisp's life all the way down to his everyday housekeeping. It's not that he doesn't think about cleaning; it's that he's thought about it and come to the conclusion that it's not worth his while. There are more exciting things to do, like dying his hair crimson.

There is a temptation to say that he can dye his hair and grow his nails long, etc. because doesn't care what observers think of him. This is false. He cares deeply, and he cultivates his image. He very much wants his appearance to convey that he is queer. He has no interest in hiding this fact, but a deep interest in advertising it, as he repeatedly tells employers and other well-meaning types when they ask why he insists on dressing flamboyantly. Brilliantly, when he starts to go gray, he stops dying his hair bright red (because he is accused of doing so to appear younger) and starts giving it a blue rinse. Thus he cannot be reproached for trying to hide the grays and at the same time, he preserves the public flaunting of the fact that he dyes his hair, which is the whole point for him.

The most compelling parts of the book have nothing to do with his early upbringing or other pop-psychological origin stories that make so many memoirs deeply boring (he mostly leaves this kind of claptrap out, mercifully). The deeply moving bits are those that relate to his personal autonomy, which barely exists. Because of his defiantly public queer identity and its sexual implications, people conclude that his body is in the public domain. There are many occasions when he is beaten for no reason other than wearing makeup or is groped in the street. But there are odd moments where the infringement on his person is decidely more tender, and at these moments, the incomprehension by society of his humanity is magnified.

There is a particularly beautiful and intensely creepy passage, following on the heels of an account of another public beating, where Crisp boards a bus and sits in front of a soldier. Abruptly, without any conversation about it, the soldier takes out a comb and starts gently combing Crisp’s hair. You feel an odd sorrow for the soldier at first, and then, without any prompting by Crisp, moral outrage and loathing that this man thinks he can just touch Crisp without permission. Crisp himself sits perfectly still until the ordeal is over. He doesn’t give any reasons why he doesn’t move, but the reader can instantly understand that the soldier has asserted an oppressive dominance by assuming consent, or rather by assuming no need for consent. Not to get hyperbolic, but the mind can’t help making an instant connection with slavery and subjugation of women through old marriage laws.

Yes, yes, it’s all very topical in the current political climate. But for me personally, this dragged up memories of university years. I particularly recall groups of students wearing T-shirts with slogans like, “Stop looking at my chest” emblazoned across the chest, and the pettiness of this compared with actual bodily infringement. I felt then, and feel now more than ever, how simplistically aggrieved these students felt, without understanding (and for many of them, without desiring to understand) what a violation of personhood really means (meant?) in an institutionalized way. I’m not sure making them read Crisp would help; I think possibly it is a developmental stage to be endured by college students. Some people never require it and some never graduate from it.

In any case, read this. Aside from being interesting and moving, it is hilarious. There are occasional paragraphs that get bogged down in sentimentality, but they are few.