IMRE: A Memorandum

by Edward Prime-Stevenson

Imre is one of the first openly gay American novels with a happy ending. Described by the author as "a little psychological romance," the narrative follows two men who meet by chance in a café in Budapest, where they forge a friendship that leads to a series of mutual revelations and gradual disclosures. With its sympathetic characterizations of homosexual men, Imre's 1906 publication marked a turning point in English literature.

This edition includes material relating to the novel's origins, contemporary writings on homosexuality, other writings by Prime-Stevenson, and a contemporary review. Edited by James J. Gifford.

Genres: LGBT, Fiction, Classics, Queer, Gay, 20th Century, Literary Fiction

108 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1906

Reviews

[Connor Stompanato · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a short but really beautifully written story about two men finding each other's companionship in unlikely circumstances. Although a simple story, it's enjoyable and engaging whilst also being very intelligently crafted. The author references historical figures going as far back as Ancient Greece and Rome, citing art and literature and contemporary medical/psychiatric opinions of his time in a way that flows perfectly through the dialogue and thoughts of the two characters. In terms of "good" or "bad" representation, this is most definitely on the upper end of the scale - the characters are sympathetic, relatable and morally sound.

From this novel I learned of the term 'Uranian' which was used at the time for gay men. It has an interesting etymology and is worth reading about for some obscure(?) historical knowledge on LGBT terminology. Similisexualism is another term used in the novel but all of the search results for it direct you to discussion of one of the author's other novels The Intersexes: A History Of Similisexualism As A Problem In Social Life.

I would definitely recommend this book, specifically the Broadview Literary Texts edition as it has a great introduction, detailed footnotes throughout and an extensive appendix that gives a lot more detail to the author's life and contemporary society's opinions on homosexuality, especially in medicine.

[Cathleen · Rating 3 out of 5]

The subtitle says it all. Imre is a rather dry, didactic treatise on homosexuality. My favorite parts were those that read like an actual novel, and my least favorites were those that read like, well, a memorandum. Of course, Prime-Stevenson used that term in a slightly different way than his twenty-first century readers do. He meant his work to be a positive representation of homosexuality or "Uranianism," and I imagine that his subtitle alludes to a wish to keep discussion of the topic alive.

Though written over a century ago, the work is by no means too out of date for a modern audience. Indeed, many readers will be surprised by just how progressive Prime-Stevenson's ideas are. We typically believe ourselves to be the most enlightened generation to date, but the course of homosexuality has never been a straight line, so to speak. Thought on the subject has ranged from very conservative to very progressive throughout many generations. Indeed, many twenty-first century gays rights advocates sound a lot like the novel's narrator, Oswald, as he discusses the finer points of male homosexuality.

In terms of an exciting, emotional exploration of gay love, though, this book isn't it. I kept thinking it would make a really interesting movie, though, in that it illustrates that not all Edwardian writing/thinking about the topic of homosexuality was closeted or self-loathing. Besides, the most salient moments are always dramatized in the movies, so we'd get more of the romance that Prime-Stevenson's version omits.

All in all, this is an important work for understanding the trajectory of queer writing.

[m. · Rating 3 out of 5]

A very quick read -- it's at the shorter end of "novella," I'd say -- that has some lovely parts and also some very earnest monologuing about the characters' feelings. (The exchange of emotional monologues did get a bit of a laugh out of me, seeing as pop culture would have it that only lesbians like to have long detailed talks about their feelings and where they stand in the relationship, whereas gay men of course have no such inclination. I felt rather vindicated at having some printed-and-bound proof that this is bull.)

It was sweet, though, and I cannot imagine the chutzpah it would have taken the author to publish this in 190-freaking-6.

[Dex · Rating 5 out of 5]

An actual gay romance with a happy ending, written in 1906. First circulation was rather underground, with the author himself only publishing 500 copies in a press in Naples, then distributed surreptitiously. The prose is achingly beautiful, and the characters very likeable. An upbeat, optimistic ending, which was unusual for gay romance for the time in which it was written.

[Cody · Rating 4 out of 5]

Based on the first few pages, I thought it was going to be squint-and-you-miss-it subtext kind of book. I was wrong! This was a whole ass neon sign screaming 'gay'.

Apart from the writing style breaking my brain a bit, this was actually insanely cute.

[dhar · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5⭐

[Daniel Fuertes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Novela corta y sencilla, con su lado dulce y su lado amargo, en la que Oswald cuenta cómo conoce al seductor y reservado Imre y cómo evoluciona su amistad. Publicada en español en 2014 por Dos Bigotes, sorprende saber que este texto, en el que se reflexiona abiertamente sobre la homosexualidad, vio la luz hace un siglo.

Quizá se excede un poco en estas divagaciones, algo repetitivas, sobre el "uranismo" (como el autor refiere) y las atracciones entre hombres, desde un punto de vista muy psicológico y psiquiátrico. Sin embargo, me ha cautivado esa visión entre ingenua y miedosa de la "amistad especial" entre dos hombres, que tan bien refleja cómo se viviría la homosexualidad en la época.

[Laura Sackton · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is really quite a remarkable little novel. It is extremely funny in parts, and also very earnest, and I teared up at the end. The back matter (letters, excerpts from medical books about homosexuality from the time, a review of the book from 1907, a short story by the same author) really added a lot. Quite amazing that this heartfelt gay love story with a very happy ending was published in 1906.

[r. a. Savery · Rating 3 out of 5]

[ENG]
Una historia corta, con una narrativa interesante y un final sin precedentes. Imre: A Memorandum es la historia de dos personas que encuentran una amistad que es amor y un amor que es amistad, con la tragedia de que resultan ser dos hombres en una sociedad que trata de enfermedad a esos sentimientos.

Parte novela, parte memorándum, es interesante leer más allá de la atracción sexual la frustración y esperanza de ambos personajes a través de los años por tener que ocultarse bajo una máscara y ser aceptados en la sociedad. En muchas partes logró conmoverme, pero en otras (sobre todo la filosofía/pseudo-medicina de la homosexualidad) me encontré con que era mucha información repetitiva e innecesaria, pero al final valió la pena con un final, que si bien es sencillo, es feliz para ambos.

[ENG]
A short story, with an interesting narrative and an unprecedented ending. Imre: A Memorandum is the story of two people who find a friendship that is love and a love that is friendship, alas, they are two men in a society that treats these feelings as a disease.

Part novel, part memorandum, it is interesting to read beyond the sexual attraction and analyse the frustration and hope from both characters through the years for having to hide behind a mask in order to be accepted by society. In many parts, the dialogues moved me, but in others (especially the philosophy/pseudo-medicine of homosexuality) I found that it was a lot of repetitive and unnecessary information, but in the end, it was worth it with an ending that, although simple, is happy for both.

[Dina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Las 10 últimas páginas son lo mejor del libro con diferencia, todo lo anterior un rollo infinito de vueltas y más vueltas de decir sin decir nada...

[Dan Gauna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gran novela.

Me senti identificado en partes, y en otras vi a muchas personas que he conocido durante mi vida, escritas en estos personajes.

Una historia de amistad y amor, entre dos amigos.

Con una traducción impecable, vale la pena leerla.

[Doug · Rating 3 out of 5]

This very slim book's (the novella proper is under 100 pages - the rest of this volume is supplementary material) notoriety comes from being perhaps the first American gay story (from 1906) with a 'happy' ending. But unlike its near contemporary, Forster's Maurice, it lacks more than rudimentary literary/narrative value. Prime-Stevenson also composed a 600 page apologia on what he calls 'simulasexuality', and much of the novel is didactic cribbing from that, which makes for very sluggish reading.

[Kj · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lovely edition of this 1906 novel depicting mutual and happy queer love.

The novella is largely composed of three chunks: a detailed profile of the beloved told in retrospect and two long conversations with very small montages in between. In a sense, the story ends right as it's beginning, but the characters' inner turmoil and struggles to express themselves are the story, serving as prolegomena to an unwritten but confirmed happy ending—exceedingly rare and liberative for its time.

There's some collateral misogyny that comes with the two men's efforts to differentiate themselves from debased stereotypes of same-gender love, but given its time, there's also a decent amount of naming valued relationships with women outside the category of sex. Both sexuality and gender function in highly binary categories, as makes sense in its context, but there's tons of forward thinking as well in how the characters express the authenticity of what they feel and who they know themselves to be, no matter how much society wants to label what they esteem as wrong or perverse.

The density of the prose and obliqueness of the dialogue may be a barrier for modern readers at times, but it's still an inspiring little novella, which originally only had 500 copies published but is now available in numerous editions. Definitely deserving of its spot on the shelf of Queer Classics.

[M. Cadena · Rating 3 out of 5]

Imre: a memorandum, published in 1906 with limited copies, was the first gay novel to have a happy ending and a positive view on homosexuality, and because I’m a sucker for queer writers and books from the XIX and XX century, I picked it up hoping to find something like Maurice by E. M. Forster (written between 1913 and 1914, published postmortem in 1971). But as the subtitle says, “a memorandum”, it’s a rather dry and analytical writing (common in psychological novels), so it does actually feels and reads as one.

I was so bored and just craving to finish it, ngl. I understand the importance of this early gay novel, but I don’t think I would recommend it unless you’re looking for a piece of history, because otherwise it’s just… boring. And believe me, I love slow paced and “boring” books, but this one just didn’t do it for me.
However, the parts that read as and actual novel were enjoyable, and it makes me happy to know this existed back then when homosexuality was a crime.


Anyway, here are some queer classics I would actually recommend to modern readers:

Maurice - E. M. Forster (1913-1914) (gay)
The well of loneliness - Radclyffe Hall (1928) (sapphic)
Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin (1956) (gay/bisexual)

[Lesley]

It's probably a five for historical interest as a novella which is not merely early C20th homosexual advocacy but gives the protags a happy ending (though I could have done without the 'we are manly and have exalted noble feelings and are not like those effeminate promiscuous degenerates over there'), but I'd mark it rather lower as an actual story.

[Kendrick · Rating 3 out of 5]

Edward Prime-Stevenson was a writer and music critic who spent most of his life living in Europe after his first love, Harry Harkness Flagler, married a woman and settled down in New York. A deeply private individual, he published two gay-themed works - a novella called Imre (1906) and a sexology study called The Intersexes (1908) - under the pseudonym Xavier Mayne. Imre was reprinted by Broadview Press in 2003 with the help of scholar James G. Gifford. In his critical introduction of Imre, Gifford discusses the rise of Hellenism in the 1870's and its influence on writers, as well as the prevailing psychiatric understanding of homosexuality (then termed as "sexual inversion" or "Uranism") in the early 1900s's. It provides a good snapshot of the period, helping readers orientate themselves to Imre's narrative.

Originally printed in a limited run, Imre concerns a narrator who encounters a handsome lieutenant in Budapest. The two become fast friends and their relationship takes a turn when the narrator is asked to return to England. Eschewing detail and setting, the book can be difficult for the modern reader, proceeding somewhat slowly and referencing numerous classical and historical figures. However, I found Imre and the narrator's monologues about their true selves ultimately persuasive and compelling. It is unfortunate that its short page count means that the narrative doesn't quite get the chance to extend its wings. Perhaps knowing that the text is relatively short, Giffords includes extensive appendices. These additions - such as Edward-Stevenson's personal correspondence, examples of case histories on 'sexual inversion', a short story and even a rare review of the book - helped enrich my reading experience. Overall, I was pleased to learn more about Imre and its writer, though I find it not as engaging as later queer works.

[Juan · Rating 3 out of 5]

El relato corto (novela corta) de Edward Prime-Stevenson, un norteamericano exiliado en Europa nacido a finales del S. XIX ha sido editada por DosBigotes en otra obra artesana hecha con delicadeza y de una belleza incandescente.

Puede que el autor de Imre: una memoria íntima sea uno de los primeros uranistas en intentar despejar las brumas que la ciencia mal manejada en una época de expansión mecánica había generado: con su propias dudas, su propio sufrimiento, supo salir adelante y generar una personalidad proactiva (vamos a usar cuantos menos adjetivos y sustantivos posmodernos mejor) sobre su condición de vida.

Prime-Stevenson pertenece a la primera generación abiertamente sufridora de sus gustos sensuales. Entre la sabia libertad de Whitman y la liberación total de Yourcenar, toda una generación de uranistas se vieron afectados por la condición homosexual puesta en el tapete como desviación médica, como error antinatural potencialmente corregible (riesgos de que el último gran imperio de la historia fuese anglosajón, supongo, con sus cosas buenas también, por su puesto): Gide, Proust, Wilde, Byron, Forster, Vaughn, batallaron en sus carnes ese inútil combate entre impulso y freno, entre deseo y corazón, entre alma y piel que forjó destinos no siempre agradables y más de una desdicha inclasificable.

El amor escondido, el jardín secreto, confidencias dichas en voz baja, un ademán imperceptible, cierta caída de ojos y un ambiente silencioso en el que el movimiento más ínfimo podía llevar al placer o al dolor (o a ambos a la vez) configuraron desde entonces el vals del acercamiento y el roce, el agotador baile del alejamiento y la distancia. Esta urgencia por vivir en un tiempo de sofocos, que se ha extendido casi hasta nuestros días, ha hecho que surjan mil hipótesis, mil justificaciones innecesarias, pues nacen de un concepto erróneo: la idea de que no somos iguales, de que un gusto sensual se aprende y no se aprehende, que un estilo de vida determina una conducta y no al contrario, y esa obsesión en toda la historia humana de hallar diferencias y supremacías donde no las hay.

Los uranistas, llamados así antes de que el acuñamiento erróneo de homosexual saliese a la luz, viven, per se, una transformación personal sin igual que no debería existir pues es social más que real, o mejor, es real porque socialmente es una imposición cuyo arraigo se pierde en la zona del miedo al diferente, en el ansia de posesión de la verdad (¿Qué es la Verdad? se pregunta el que más sabe de ella en la historia occidental, y vamos nosotros a ser más listos que el Maestro), y por tanto, de la manipulación extrema. Esas fuerzas telúricas no siempre moldean personalidades sólidas, antes bien todo lo contrario; no siempre llevan a buen puerto la aleación necesaria para forjar verdaderos hombres, capaces de enfrentar las visicitudes de la vida con entereza o con resignación.

Imre: una memoria íntima es un gran resumen de esta realidad que aún vivimos hoy. Expresada en ese lenguaje delicado, purista, lleno de la musicalidad de una erudición cercana (no en nuestro siglo) y de ademanes corteses, la historia del encuentro de Oswald e Imre en la Budapest de comienzos del S. XX sirve de pretexto, o mejor, sirve de muestra de lo que los uranistas de la época debían hacer para sobrevivir, para encontrar ese ideal (porque había ideales más allá de lo externo, donde todo se mezclaba), esa vida perfecta en la que le jardín secreto se abría de par en par y se transformaba en un Edén. La diferencia entre esta obrita (por extensión, no por profundidad) y la de otras igual de maravillosas como Maurice de E.M. Forster, por ejemplo, está en su feroz activismo, en su inexcusable desenmascaramiento, en su total valentía en llamar por su nombre real un amor único, en comentar en alta voz no sólo los deseos, si no los problemas a los que una raza de hombres problemáticos se enfrentaban sin hallar sosiego, sin encontrar un remanso de paz, a no ser la fortuita liberación en un cuerpo similar, en un ansia dibujada con los mismos trazos, las mismas líneas humanas.

Escrito con una prosa maravillosa, a la que siempre he estado acostumbrado y que hemos perdido quién sabe dónde en aras de una escritura más fugaz (que no breve), Imre: una memoria íntima es una delicia de concisión y de profundidad, de poesía y de revelaciones, con un punto apasionado (que tal vez resienta al relato, pero que es su razón de ser), en el que quizá por primera vez el amor entre iguales se alza vencedor en un mundo que los odia. Antecesor a Maurice nos sólo en fecha de creación si no (más importante en una semana llena de símbolos como ésta) en publicación, precursor de un activismo que explota en Stonewall, un bar de Nueva York en 1969 (aproximadamente sesenta años después de su publicación), Imre: una memoria íntima sirvió de ejemplo a Forster, y tal vez también a Yourcenar (muy francesa pero mucho más cosmopolita e inteligente que la mayoría de los escritores de su tiempo, y de los que la precedieron), cuyo Alexis es, por sobre todas las cosas, una joya del género íntimo (y brevísimo y bravísimo) para labrar, poco a poco, el camino que enseñaba a todos aquellos malditos bastardos la senda del goce a cielo abierto y la vida en plena libertad.

En una semana que celebra el Orgullo de lo diferente, Imre: una memoria íntima, es, si no la primera piedra, sí el primer tramo del camino que nos ha llevado a nuestro mundo de hoy. Y merece ser reconocido como tal y apreciado en toda su valía artística.

[Amanda · Rating 4 out of 5]

A gay novella from 1906 mostly remarkable for having a happy ending. The frequent monologuing is pretty heavy going, but the story is pretty good. Some of the views the characters express are likely to provoke a bit of eye rolling from modern audiences, but it's not so bad when you remember those views are a response to the contemporary social and medical attitudes toward homosexuality.

Received via LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program.

[Eric · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s hard not to give this simple, intimate portrait 5 stars. It’s not really a novel by any means; it’s truly a memorandum, a small little journey of two men in a time when they truly couldn’t be themselves. It’s place in queer history is certain, and it’s worth the short time it takes to finish it.

[Nick Artrip · Rating 3 out of 5]

“I was that anachronism from old—that incomprehensible incident in God's human creation: the man-loving man! The man-loving man! whose whole heart can be given only to another man, and who when his spirit is passing into his beloved friend's keeping would demand, would surrender, the body with it."

Imre: A Memorandum by Edward Prime-Stevenson was the next random selection in my Pre-Stonewall era queer literature reading. This book is touted as one of the first openly gay American novels with a happy ending. The novel was described by the author as "a little psychological romance" and follows two men, Imre and Oswald, who meet in a chance encounter at a cafe in Budapest. The novel follows the formation of their friendship and the revelations they make with one another.

This was a very interesting follow-up to my reading of Belchamber. Where Sturgis dissects what it means to be a "sissy", Prime-Stevenson's text is insistent upon Oswald and Imre's masculinity. From the introduction, it's made clear that Prime-Stevenson's text is subverting the contemporary case study on homosexuality in men which had a strong focus on effeminacy. Reading the text in this light aided me in making light of Imre: A Memorandum, so I really found the supplemental texts in my edition helpful.

This isn’t necessarily a book that I would recommend for entertainment value, it’s didactic and can be quite dull, but some of the language used in Imre: A Memorandum, some of the more passionate appeals between Oswald and Imre are terribly romantic. It is, on the other hand, a fascinating work to study. Prime-Stevenson’s story has many of the hallmarks of queer literature—a search for recognition, rejection, attempting to define oneself in a world that doesn’t assign you value, the thrill and pain of longing. I was excited by the earnestness with which Imre and Oswald expressed their feelings and honestly long, deep conversations are sexy.

[Michael Ritchie · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5 stars) From 1906, a self-published novel about two gay men who, after years of hiding their sexual orientation while also searching for love, finally find each other. It's not a spoiler to say that there is a happy ending since every description of the book mentions that. What they don't mention is that this is, to some degree, basically a fleshed-out play, as the entire thing consists of Oswald's thoughts, and conversations between Oswald and Imre, with the entire last half basically long monologues they deliver to each other. Some Goodreads reviewers are disappointed that there is no sex in the book. They don't even really talk about sex except in terms of possessing and being possessed. But there is no action of any kind, just two men walking, sitting, and talking.

Approached as a gay love story or as literature, this will disappoint. But approached as a window into ideas of gay life at the turn of the century, it's interesting. The narrator (who, based on the introduction and appendices, is equivalent to the author in terms of philosophy if not in actual life story) needs to couch homosexuality (or Uranianism, the more common term of the time) in talk of masculine aesthetics. Both Oswald and Imre live in fear of having "womanist" traits. The term "soulmate" is never used (because it didn't exist as such) but that is what this philosophy rewards: beautiful, masculine, brave, intelligent soulmates. The physical aspect of such a relationship is not discussed in direct terms, but it's pretty clear that Oswald and Imre crave a physical relationship; as it is, they touch each other a lot, though not intimately. The yearning of the two characters for a soulmate and eventually for each other is movingly expressed. Must reading for those interested in queer history, but not recommended for anyone wanting anything approaching a modern gay romance.

[lavendread · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really interesting historical semi-autobiographical novella on a passionate if quiet romance between our narrator (stand in for EPS) Oswald and the “manly” soldier he tries to resist desiring, Imre. What’s most interesting to me about this is the way men are desperate to be accepted by their fellow men to the point of self sabotage, self loathing, and partaking in manly demonstrations (parading around town with women so your male friends are assured that you, like them, can’t and won’t break with the male tradition of conquering women); and this means masking, devaluing women for sport and for realsies (would you like some misogyny with your mashed potatoes?) and rejecting everything that the non-male represents (what is not in conjunction with patriarchal social scripts/canon of what a man *should* be). That at least is timeless. Men have to fight for their identity as men less they worry that they’ll be emasculated and less than and suddenly on the same plain as women who they abhor. Really interesting for the history alone; the romance is cute and really sincerely passionate when Imre and Oswald aren’t discussing how useless and irrelevant women are to make their cases for masculine-only Uranians. There’s exchanges I will not forget.

[Klissia · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 Deixe- me contar quantas vezes este trecho de Byron é citado neste livro “love that dare not speak its name”.... muitas.
Este é uma ficção com traços autobiográfico sobre o encontro de dois homens ,de amizade para o amor. Um jornalista e um soldado,sem muito plot,mas com bastante diálogos,análises e meandros psicológicos e sociais da epoca , sobretudo de Oswald para o misterioso Imre. Talvez tenha sido um erro ter lido a sinopse antes,pois a estória corre lento,com revelações e afirmações veladas sobre a relação entre Imre e Oswald,afinal porque dois estranhos, caminhando por ruas e frequentando lugares de Budapeste, em apenas semanas,sentem uma amizade tao forte um pelo outro?
Temos uma resposta embora o libro tenha sido um pouco frustrante,por momentos vazio em estética literária, teatral,didático e exagerado (sobretudo nos diálogos final) na reprocidade do amor encontrado e idealizado.

É um livro interessante ,como pesquisa literária e histórica sobre a literatura lgbt do período que o escritor viveu, de repressão e condenação pública do amor gay,o que compensa as falhas na obra.

[Alex A Ramírez · Rating 3 out of 5]

Imre: Una Memoria Íntima.
Edward Prime-Stevenson

Imre es un soldado un húngaro que se encuentra con un hombre inglés Oswald en un bar. Forjaran una amistad y admiración.

Es así como este hombre inglés nos cuenta toda su historia.

En una época complicada para las personas gay, porque era considerado una enfermedad y causaba el desprecio de la sociedad.

Imre es narrado como un hombre hermoso. Del cual Oswald se enamora.

La visión de los sentimientos de un hombre que reprime su orientación sexual; por temor a ser humillados, rechazados y considerados sin valor para la sociedad. Como incluso puede llevarlo a casarse con una mujer para ocultarse. Ellos no llegan a ser felices o en otros casos son infieles.

Es interesante ver que al ser un libro de 1906 se presenta la represión que hay de la homosexualidad.

Los hombres se preocupan por no ser vistos como tal y hacen actividades que para esa época sólo debían ser tratadas como hombre.

Aunque por el tiempo el autor siento que no desarrolla el amor de los personajes.

El final me parecio bien. Sin embargo me falto que este se desarrollara más.

Puntuación  3,5/5 💜

[peach]

This is a very short book, a big portion of which consists of long monologues about homosexuality. It's interesting to see the thoughts brought forward and how it responds to the contemporary views of homosexuality, but since I'm not fully familiar with the historical context of this exact piece of discourse it feels difficult to analyse it fairly.

Although the actual plot is pretty thin I adored what there was of it. The quick bond that formed between the two men really drew me in, and I felt their pain and fear as they tried cautiously to figure out each other's views on homosexuality, neither daring to ask outright or say what was really in their hearts. There are some soul-baring monologues, heart-felt letters, and most importantly a happy ending with an embrace and a proclamation of love.

In general this is a mix of a dry treatise and a sweet, if simple, love story, but the simple fact that it's a novel written in 1906 that both treats the gay characters as sympathetic and also gives them a happy ending, united and in love, makes me very happy.

[Denis · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought the relationship outlined in the story was quite sweet, although I didn't always think the attraction Imre and Oswald had for each other really landed. However, I really enjoyed the Hungarian setting and that Oswald had been learning the language, and I thought Imre's postcards were very sweet — one of the more overt romance-building elements of the story.

A large portion of the book was dry intellectual justification for homosexuality which I didn't like, especially when it delved into gender essentialism (the idea that gay men are the manliest of men), among other things; but suffice to say the author was keen on proving a point, and the romance of the story sometimes felt like it took a backseat.

I would have liked to see more of Oswald and Imre's post-revelation relationship; when I got to the confession scene I realized that there was only about 15% of the book left. However, a huge plus for this story is it having a happy ending; it's apparently the first gay novel to do so!

[ALEARDO ZANGHELLINI · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ve become a fan of older queer fiction where desire is conveyed through silences, allusions, oblique references, implication, and sublimation… Imre is none of this: Homosexuality (capital H) is the story’s direct subject matter, and the story gives it a fully explicit treatment (not as in ‘sexually explicit’, but as in ‘not conveyed by implication’). There is something refreshing in this, and even satisfying, though the satisfaction I think is largely contingent on keeping in mind when the book was written.

The excessively formal dialogue can be off-putting. Also, the whole explicit and belaboured apologia of homosexuality may not resonate with readers who — as might be the case for many of my generation — feel that circumstances forced them to have ‘been there and done that’ in their youth, and who don’t particularly look back to those times with nostalgia.

[Álvaro Murillo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Un libro con claroscuros, como me suele pasar con casi todos los libros de cierta conciencia social escritos hace muchos años. Contextualizado en su época seguro que era súper transgresor, pero ahora no es más que una defensa de la homosexualidad básandola en gran parte en una postura misógina. Aún con todo tiene grandes reflexiones y una anómala relación (en tanto a poco común 3n novelas) de una amistad convertida a amor romántico entre dos chicos.

[Q. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the earliest LGBT+ novel I've read so far. What makes this book especially great is that there are no creepy predatory vibes like anything by Adre Gide or a horrible ending that spoils everything like The City and the Pillar. Two lonely adult gay men happened to find each other, confess their hard life stories, and the story ends with both them happy and together. This was written in 1906 by the way.

[Drianne · Rating 3 out of 5]

As a book, this was okay; as a historical artifact, this is SO GREAT. I love that this exists. It's a happy ending gay novel from early in the 20th c. that was actually (privately) printed. Absolutely fascinating as a record of some gay men's lives and thoughts on queerness from the time period. Highly recommended for those who are interested in the history of (conceptions of) homosexuality.