A Queer Love Story presents the first fifteen years of letters between Jane Rule --- novelist and the first widely recognized "public lesbian" in North America --- and Rick Bébout, journalist and editor with the Toronto-based Body Politic, an important incubator of LGBT thought and activism. Rule lived in a remote rural community on Galiano Island, British Columbia, but wrote a column for the magazine. Bébout resided in and was devoted to Toronto's gay village. Both were transplanted Americans. At turns poignant, scintillating, and incisive, their exchanges include ruminations on queer life and the writing life even as they document some of the most pressing LGBT issues of the '80s and '90s, including HIV/AIDs, censorship, and state policing of desire.
Took me back to the mid-80s and the height of the AIDS plague in Toronto. I was living in an attic apartment in Toronto, very near Rick Bébout's place before he moved to Sherbourne/Church. I have many memories of the events and communities he writes to Jane Rule about, although I was very much on the outer fringes of the gay rights movement, not identifying as queer until much later in life.
Taught me a bunch of things I hadn't known then, and only barely know now, about queer politics in Toronto, and in the world. Also, about the passionate and inherently revolutionary nature of indie journalism (The Body Politic, Xtra!) -- in which I was also, albeit very tangentially, involved.
Also, and most important, what a magical, soul-opening thing it is to have a decades-long correspondence with someone. We have lost much, not only personally but to the broader discourse, since we have lost the act of putting a real pen on real paper, stamping and mailing it.
A quibble (always, always): the copy-editing in this version, a hard cover from the library (which may have been a first printing, not sure) was atrocious. I finally just decided to ignore it and get on with things, but sheesh.
A great bit of nostalgia that reads as fundamental history to know, although obviously quite dated now -- as am I. :-)
LOVE. Read this book. It is one of the best books on LGBTQ people and our history that I have read. The reader is transported back to the time these letters were written and it's incredible.
In 1981, prolific lesbian novelist Jane Rule (Desert of the Heart) and the Body Politic magazine editor Rick Bebout began a 26-year correspondence and strong friendship. Marilyn R. Schuster (Marguerite Duras Revisited) compiles the first 14 years, succinctly editing 385 letters from 2,800 pages down to 619. In her foreword, Margaret Atwood writes, "The letters collected here are in the old tradition of literary and political correspondence: two thoughtful, engaged people dancing together on paper." Both Rule and Bebout are fiercely intelligent, thoughtful, opinionated and perceptive writers, and A QUEER LOVE STORY offers their fascinating personal experiences and thoughts on contemporary LGBT history, culture, identities and civil rights.
Rule (1931-2007) ruminates on commitment vs. sexual fidelity, the writing process, gay politics, mortality and her 46-year relationship with Helen Sonthoff. "Helen doesn't give basic meaning to my life," she writes, "because that meaning is my own responsibility, she's at the same time central to my life, and, if I'm ever faced with having to live it without her, it will take me a long time to figure out how to do it and whether it's worth it." Bebout (1950-2009) grapples with keeping his magazine afloat, loneliness, activism, censorship, his ambivalence toward "coupledom" and his 1988 HIV diagnosis: "Yes, it's bad news, but bad news that, for the moment, has given me a sense of clarity and resolve."
This voluminous and essential collection offers delights on every page: beautifully crafted sentences and astute opinions on racism, health care, same-sex marriage, violence and publishing. The 14 years of personal letters between Jane Rule and Rick Bebout offer brilliantly written eyewitness accounts of LGBT history and culture in the 1980s and '90s.
Schuster's book is a collection of the edited letters between lesbian author Jane Rule and activist/author Rick Bebout. I am not normally a fan of such collections and usually skim them quickly, but I found myself engrossed in Schutser's collection of letters probably because the world that Rule and Bebout shared is part of my own. Their letters chart not only the growth of the queer community in Canada but also all the issues that helped define the Canadian queer community. A must read for anyone interested in Canadian queer history.
"Rick writes, "My letters to you are my chief means of memory, tying things down in words I can find again later." xxi It is fascinating how each of us organizes memory.
"We die bravely and well, so many of us, giving all the way to the end-and those of us left mourning hold to that and cherish it and grow from it. But dammit, the end is too soon, and children born today will never know things they might have known if the end were not so soon for so many of us. That's my rage, that's what my grief is for: what's lost." xxv The idea of a break in a chain of knowledge is important.
"I think it could be all us aging activists discovering our children. Maybe we're discovering-defining-our own brand of erotic parenthood." 34
"I have also been thinking about your fondness for battle imagery, a way of keeping courage and a sense of importance, and I'm sure that's why "dying in battle" got into the essay. I do think it bizarre that we are taught to honour those who die in battle, condemn those who die of pleasure." 81
"It all led me to suspect that the most truly shocking thing about some pornography, certainly all that's violent and a lot that's not, is that it exposes the truth which a liberal ideology demands must stay hidden: that people are not equal in power, and that the powerful can and will abuse the powerless." 88 This is a great way of looking at pornography, like rape it is not about sexuality but rather about power.
"Michael Lassell: "All this thinking about death has made us think what a powerful people we are, we faggots and dykes. They call us sinful and we make monuments to the beauty of God...People loving each other, of three or four, however, haltingly, however hesitantly-that is the Community in the making. It is survival...It is the beginning of, well, immortality of a kind, a step on a spiritual path we may not even know exists." 119
"It's especially interesting to see how widely bandied about the word "terrorist" is these days, and how infrequently it's questioned. What we're really talking about is unauthorized violence; the authorized version we're supposed to approve of, despite the dead babies in Tripoli, despite the slaughtered villages in Nicaragua." 187
"Suddenly it was clear to me: our role isn't to turn these people into "clients" needing service. It's to offer training and resources so they can use to organize themselves." 380 An important thought for any social services agency.
"Too many American gay writers love AIDS too much as the agent of final, tragic meaning in our lives, or the bogeyman scaring us into safe, if now achingly bittersweet "respectability." 399
"At 28 he feels he's missed something basic in gay male life, what he called anonymous sex-though I wanted to remind him that anonymity isn't quite the point, rather unexpectedness, happy serendipity. And xenophile, the discovery of strangers." 453
"I don't understand how we allow government to define our responsibilities for us. Anyone should be able to claim anyone who is truly financially dependent if we want to give responsible people a break, whether they're looking after their children, their parents, their friends or lovers who might otherwise be a burden on the state." 499 This has to do with the nationalistic aims of the state, which always seeks to propagate itself and in the process supporting heterosexuality and heteronormative relationships.
"We joked that they'd have to play "Gloria," the last great disco anthem dating from the summer of 1982-in effect the last summer before AIDS." 511
"Women who live alone, more or less contentedly, call themselves selfish, glad to be free of a concern for anyone else. But people who live alone are almost always more vulnerable to the needs of their friends than couples are who can use each other as excuses not to become involved in other people's needs." 533
"It's the tangling up of egos that frightens me in relationships in which people love and protect images they need rather than people they love." 534
"But reflection is vital to self-awareness, and that's vital to a sense of one's own knowledge, power, agency-in short, one's moral citizenship." 538 A wonderful way to express how we need to be true to ourselves in order to be true to others.
"Don't make rules to prevent abuse. Try to help people be involved in and care about their work. Trust-and you'll get trust back. If you don't, your problems are not about leave and pay. They're about people's sense of themselves and each other in their work." 539 This to me is the fundamental basic difference between small-conservatives and small-liberals. Conservatives view human nature as fundamentally greedy needing to be curbed, while liberals want the self to be allowed to express itself unfettered.
I found this book spellbinding, and it wasn't just because I worked in the Body Politic (BP) office and knew most of the people mentioned, and especially the male co-author. Rick Bébout was a wonderful character, hard-working, inventive, skilled, critical and self-critical. The melodious counterpoint of Jane Rule in his life must have been a significant balance for his energies. I knew they had a correspondence going, but I had never seen any of it - 30 years on, the wait was worth it. Rick and I had our differences - he was very much for the BP majority line that gay men should cruise and build community through sex with various guys, whereas I was already in the monogamous affair I remain in to this day and I expounded romance, which Rick was woundedly skeptical about. You can see an epic tale here in his on-and-off relationships and torn loves, playing off against the complex solidity of Rule's own relationship with Helen Sonthoff. And like a huge Archimedian screw through all this personal stuff, there's the main plot, the winding of LGBT history from raids to AIDS to coming out the other side into queer-tinted respectability, the scariest of futures. And some luck with successful HIV therapy made it possible for Rick to see the future through to a point well beyond imagination, all in the context of Jane's queer love for him. Humanity was made for this.
Fabulous! There is nothing quite like visiting the lives of two people one will never meet through their personal correspondence. To have an elder lesbian writer and a younger gay editor share their thoughts, loves, ideas, hopes and dreams across 5 provinces for many decades and offer them to the world is magnificent. I laughed, I cried, I raged and now I want to know more about them and many of the issues they wrote about. Censorship, HIV/AIDS, state policing of desire, relationships, LGBTQ culture, racism, violence, same-sex marriage, love commitment and oh so much more.
As I approached the end of the book, which I didn’t want to end, this sentence about love of Jane Rules boldly spoke to me, “I’ve always thought, of the conventional models, parental love is probably the best though most people fail at it and clutter it up with all kinds of righteous expectations in the ‘after all I’ve done for you’ mode.” (pg 555) which totally explains my father’s love. This sentence alone explained to me why I so strongly felt the need to read this book.