The Girls in 3-B

by Valerie Taylor

Annice, Pat and Barby are best friends from rural Iowa, freshly arrived in booming 1950s Chicago to explore different paths toward independence, self-expression, and sexual freedom. From the hip-hang of a bohemian lifestyle to the sophisticated lure of romance with a handsome, wealthy, married boss, to the happier - but taboo - security of a lesbian relationship, these three experience first-hand the dangers and limitations that await spirited young working girls who strike out on their own in a decidedly male-centered world.

An honest, explosive novel that turns conventional ideas of 1950s life and femininity upside down, The Girls in 3-B reveals in heart-breaking detail the hidden world of mid-century America, where women live on their own in seedy apartments, have premarital sex, get illegal abortions, yearn to be artists, experiment with drugs, and, if they are so inclined, discover a mannered, thriving lesbian underworld.

Valerie Taylor's focus on themes of class as well as gender and sexual identity provides an unusual perspective on the myth of the American Dream. With poverty never more than a paycheck away, the girls in 3-B inhabit a world in which their bodies are sometimes their only currency, and their artistic and career ambitions are limited by both their meager resources and the blatant sexism of their time. The characters in the novel are, surprisingly, far more self-aware and daring than most contemporary images of 1950s America - and then offers a defiantly subversive alternative. A classic pulp tale showcasing predatory beatnik men, drug hallucinations, workplace intrigues, and secret lesbian trysts, The Girls in 3-B approaches the theme of sex from thestiffened vantage point of 1950s psychology.

Genres: Fiction, Queer, LGBT, Pulp, Lesbian, Romance, Classics

206 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1959

About the author

Librarian note:
There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name

Valerie Taylor is the pen name of Velma Young (1913–1997), author of the lesbian pulp classics Whisper Their Love (1957), The Girls in 3-B (1959), World Without Men (1963), Journey to Fulfillment (1964), and Ripening (1988). With the $500 proceeds of her first novel, Hired Girl (1953), Taylor bought a pair of shoes, two dresses, and hired a divorce lawyer. After leaving her husband, she kicked off a prolific career as the author of pulp fiction novels, poetry (under the name Nacella Young), and romances (under the name Francine Davenport). A longtime activist for gay and lesbian rights, she was a co-founder of Mattachine Midwest and the Lesbian Writers Conference in Chicago. (source)

Reviews

[Stephy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This Author, Valerie Taylor also wrote "Prism," a popular lesbian novel from the mid eighties, and several other books in the Lesbian Pulp Fiction genre. I read them before time began.

She had been married with children until she came out, and had one son, possibly two. When I first knew her, she was a wonderful woman, just past sixty years of age. Her life partner of many years, lesbian Lawyer Pearl Heart, had died just before we met. I was proud to call her my dear friend for years. We visited, chatted and exchanged letters for many years.

She published a book of Poetry with another lesbian poet, Jeannette Foster, author Of Sex Variant Women in Literature, a mighty overview of lesbians in literature. Jeanette was also the writer for Kinsey, Pomeroy and Martin at the University of Indiana when they wrote "Sex in the Human Male" and "Sex in the Human Female"

She was involved in, and Keynote Speaker at two Lesbian Writer's Conferences in Chicago, organized by Marie Kuda and other lesbian Writers in the Chicago Area.

When she retired from her long time job at a clipping service and from her daytime editor job, she moved, First to Margaretville, New York, where she lived in the small town of her dreams. Making a fresh start in life in her early sixties. She had a brief but passionate affair with a widowed straight woman, who broke her heart. She spoke of this woman but once to me, when she later quipped, "These mixed marriages never work out."

She had a very bad fall on the ice that winter, and broke some bones. When she recovered, her son helped her move across the country to relocate someplace with no ice. She always had pain where she had broken bones,

Tucson, Arizona was the place she chose to rebuild her life from scratch yet another time; this time permanently. She became Mother Goddess to a whole new group of young lesbians, who loved her and lovingly cared for as she aged. A couple or three women moved in to care for her for several years, until she was unable to live at home.

Then she moved into a nursing home, where her friends raised money to pay for the cost of her care, and checked on her daily until her quiet death. She died surrounded by her friends, and was mourned Nationally in Lesbian and Gay Media. I, too, mourned her, and took comfort in the fact that she had a productive, full life and was beloved by all who knew her.

[Carla Remy · Rating 5 out of 5]

12/2014

Femmes Fatales: Women Write Pulp, from The Feminist Press reprinted this 1959 novel. I was thrilled beyond belief when my boyfriend found this and brought it home for me. Three 18 year old girls, in the story, leave the country for Chicago. The best parts depict the beat scene and an experiment with peyote. One character's discovery of lesbianism is treated very positively and non exploitatively. I'd give this a 4, as a book, but a 5 for existing. Included is a publisher's forward and a substantial afterword, which were both terrific.

[Bekki · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lesbian pulp fiction from the 'golden age' (roughly 1952-1965) is one of my greatest genre loves. It has the dual appeal of being both an interesting glimpse into the world of women and LGBT folk in a long ago, much more hostile time period AND a quick, soapy, often campy-sleazy read. These books are very rarely great - or even good - literature and shouldn't be read by people who are looking for such. They were almost universally written by straight men and their only real purpose was to shock and titillate their male readers. To avoid postal censorship, these books also generally contained A Very Good Lesson about the evils and dangers of homosexuality and a heavy dose of Freudian analysis on why these otherwise seemingly healthy young girls fall into a life a Sapphic desire! Almost every story had to include a REAL MAN who came in at the last minute to save the young, impressionable heroine from her strange, twisted path into the twighlight world of women who shun men! The fact that Valerie Taylor veers so strongly from this path in The Girls in 3B is one of the reasons it's such an interesting example of the genre.

On its surface, The Girls in 3B has all the trappings of your typical lesbian pulp. Barby is a young women from rural Iowa with a haunted past: she was raped by a family aquaintance at the age of 13, thereby ruining her for any and all men. There's something wrong, different about her, she knows, but she just can't figure out why. She loathes men, but upon moving to Chicago with two girlfriends from high school, she easily submits to the first greasy sleazebag that propositions her. The plot divides early on into three separate storylines telling the trials and tribulations of each girl as she struggles to make her way in the BIG CITY. (If you're wondering why I keep capitalizing the words BIG CITY it's because pages upon pages of these books are taken up by internal solliloquies on the vastness and anonymity of the city.)

Already, we have the big three indicators of a pulp fiction heroine about to be seduced to the darkside of lesbianism: 1) a vulnerable young girl from a small town making her way into a new environment (the BIG CITY, 2) a heroine thats hates men and is constantly thinking about how repulsive they are (this is literally one of the only things Barby thinks about. Ever.) and 3) she has been abused or abandoned. In this case, Barby was raped, but she could have just as easily been orphaned or been a bastard. Being an orphan is so popular I was actually surprised to have both Barby's parents make appearances in the first couple chapters. These three elements are pretty much universal in the world of lesbian pulp fiction. They provide the reason for the abnormal behavior and, more importantly, a reason that can be identified and corrected, thereby saving the young heroine from a life... in the shadows!

Normally, in lesbian pulp fiction, Barby would move to the city, meet a gorgeous, seductive older woman and fall in bed to her before quickly being rescued by a REAL MAN who marries her and saves her from her lesbian urges. Half of this does happen: Barby falls hard for her boss, an older female executive at the department store they both work. They start slowly and sweetly with lunch dates and several chats that talk around the subject of their growing interest in each other and share long, lingering looks while on the job.

As someone who has read a number of these books, I kept waiting for the REAL MAN to show up. And, to my surprise, he never did. Soon, Barby is moving out of the apartment she shares with her friends and into her older girlfriend's swanky pad where they live discretely and for what we can only assume is happily ever after. There's no commentary on how sad and pathetic they'll be and how they'll never really know love. No, they're just cuddled together in front of a fire talking about how awesome life is together and how much they love each other. And that, in the judgey, preachy pulp world is practically bananas.

This ending is so satisfying in it's break from the usual doom and gloom that concludes the majority of these pulps that I can't help but give it 4 stars. Valerie Taylor, the author, is actually a lesbian and you can tell by the longing and sensitivity she imbues in her female characters.

This is far from a great book, though. I was so bored with the other two girls' storylines that halfway through I started skipping them all together. One of Barby's roomates wants to bang her boss but saves herself at the last minutes while the other gets knocked up by an Ayn Rand wannabe who looks like a beat poet and acts like a douche. The only really good part of their storylines is when Annice, the one who gets pregnant, trips on peyote with Mini-Rand. The imagery is quite fantastic with, like, disembodied baby heads that just happen to be stacked up in the wood holder by the fireplace. And it's really colorful. You know, the usual stuff. The mesculin trip is so non-sensastional and matter of fact in it's description that it almost makes me wonder if Ms. Taylor took a couple trips of her own back in the day. (Get down with your bad self, Valerie.)

Anyway, this books is definitely worth the read if only for Barby's story. There's a lot of legitimate discussion about how important it was for gay people to live two lives at this time: one in public and one in private, and I found that to be very interesting and worth reading. So, all in all, I have to give it a thumbs up for the social commentary and lesbians who escape with their dignity, sanity, and lives intact at the end. Also, with the book costing all of one or two bucks on kindle, it's not really much of a loss if you hate it.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Dorothy B. Hughes book I recently read ('The Blackbirder') is part of the 'Femmes Fatales' series from The Feminist Press. Since Hughes hooked me in, I perused the other 'FF' series titles. ~ and happened upon this unlikely entry.

~ 'unlikely' because I was halfway through the book when I said to myself, 'Let's hold these horses! Just how 'fatale' *are* these femmes, anyway?!' There was nary a noir trope in sight. The sultry book cover notwithstanding, the only thing marginally 'dangerous' about the 3-B gals was that they'd decided to share an apartment together in Chicago in the '50s... unsupervised!

Full disclosure: ~ well, things do get a little edgier than that. One of the three realizes that she's *had it* with men and, upon being handed a classic lesbian novel in the way one might be slipped a mickey, she goes Sappho-a-go-go!:

"It's what I've wanted all my life. How can anybody want a man, when there's this?"

That's slightly fatale in spirit, I suppose. (And slightly humorous.)

'The Girls in 3-B' is not unlike Rona Jaffe's 'The Best of Everything' of the previous year (1958), as both books feature a trio of hopefuls out to make their mark in the business world. But perhaps it's a bit less dynamic; it does feel perfunctory and the pulse of the narrative thrust is weak. Still... there *is* that girl-on-girl angle - and

SPOILER ALERT

- there's nothing particularly tragic in the depiction. No hint of "strange lust" or "unnatural love" here. In that sense, it's more like Patricia Highsmith's 'The Price of Salt' than the other kind (the darker kind) of lesbian pulp novels widely available during the period.

From reading the book's afterword, I certainly gained respect for the author (whose real name was Velma Young). She had a fascinating, very full / influential and noteworthy life. I can see where 'The Girls...' may have had more punch in its day, even if it's not particularly explosive stuff.

Today, the book retains historical value in the way it presents sexual attitudes. It's of its time and I guess it never needed to be great lit.

[Dave]

Valerie Taylor, as she was professionally known, was best known as one of the premier authors of a sub-genre known as lesbian pulp, particularly her novel, Whisper Their Love. The Girls in 3-B explores the journey to adulthood of three young women from the midwestern countryside who take an apartment in Chicago together, having gone to high school together. They present three different stories of young women in the big city.

Annice, who liked to write poetry, went to Chicago to take writing classes and finds herself involved with two Beatnik men, first Jack and then Alan. Alan is another writer and avowed rebel against middle-class conformity who tells her marriage is too bourgeoisie, and leads her into a world of drugs and sex, disappearing to Mexico right before Annice gets a chance to tell him she is now pregnant. Having no career and ashamed to return home, she is now in a difficult predicament, one that could easily befall a young woman looking to have a good time in the big city.

Pat follows a slightly different path, obtaining a job at a department store, where she swoons everyday over her handsome boss, known as a wolf who seduces every woman in the office. She lives each day, dying for his attention, until he finally chooses her as a final conquest or fling right before his marriage to a society gal. Pat is disappointed to find her dreams a bit smashed with her idol having feet of clay.

Barbara is the most voluptuous of the three young women, catching the eye of every guy she runs across, much to her chagrin, including a business associate of her father’s who catches her alone in the house at the age of thirteen and the landlord of the apartment she finds in Chicago for the three women, the landlord who lures her into his apartment, plies her with wine, and rapes her. Despite that, Barbara goes ahead and rents the apartment, ashamed of telling the other two what happened or seeking police action. Barbara decides she hates all men and is open to the overtures of her older supervisor at the publishing house where she works, open to the point where she eventually leaves the apartment shared with the other women and shares this older woman’s apartment, making that her new life.

It is primarily a well-written coming-of-age story about these three young women and the different paths their lives take when they are all on their own in the big city. There is no underlying crime or adventure here.

[Bill · Rating 4 out of 5]

A couple of years ago I discovered The Feminist Press and their Femmes Fatales 'women write pulp' series. It introduced me to writers such as Vera Caspary, Evelyn Piper and Valerie Taylor. I first read Taylor's Stranger on Lesbos. She was noted as an author in the lesbian pulp fiction genre. The Girls in 3-B is my second look at her work.

Annice, Pat and Barby are three friends living in a small farm community. For their own differing reasons, they want to move to the big city, Chicago. Annice is bored with farm living and wants to explore the arts and life in the big city. Barby wants to get away from home from a childhood trauma. Pat wants a career in the big city. The three share an apartment, 3-B, in Chicago. Annice starts as a student trying to improve her poetry. Barby's father, who has a strange relationship with his daughter, gets her a job in a department store. Pat gets a job with a book publisher.

Their lives diverge quite rapidly. Annice, even though she is sort of dating Jackson, a student at the college, gets involved with a 'Beatnik', Alan and begins to explore sex an drugs. Barby is raped by the apartment manager and finds herself stressed and more and more under his control. Pat has a deep crush on the editor of the publishing company.

The story follows the three, developing their characters nicely. Many powerful themes are approached and discussed, child abuse, abortion, incest, lesbian relationships, drugs. Considering the story was originally written in 1959, they must have been more powerful. The pulp publishers seemed to have much more freedom than the movies and TV and more conservative publishing companies. Taylor approaches these themes delicately without too much titillation. It's an interesting, different story, maybe a gritty Harlequin in some ways but dealing with strong issues. I enjoyed reading it. I liked the Introduction description of the pulp authors and I enjoyed the Afterword, covering Taylor's life. I also liked the ending. (4 stars)

[Cody · Rating 3 out of 5]

this is 95% hetero, but I'm happy for Barby?

[Kurt Reichenbaugh · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have this book in an edition published by The Feminist Press. Femmes Fatales: Women Write Pulp. We've managed to find a handful of books from this series over the years and this one is the first one I've finally gotten around to reading. Originally published in 1959, on its surface The Girls in 3-B was purely intended to pique the interest of book browsers in drug stores and truck stops, looking for something risqué to read without shelling out a lot of money in a dingy porno store on the wrong side of town. Lesbian fiction was a successful genre with some paperback houses, and probably a fairly reliable way for publishers and writers to make some quick money.

Far from being salacious, this novel depicts a fairly frank story of three college-age friends embarking on their lives away from their parents in the big city. The book shows a time when sexual harassment in the workplace and sexual aggression in general was open and tolerated by society: "Why don't you women learn that your place is in bed? All this futile struggle to create when all you're really good for is to release some man's inhibitions." It also shows the ultimate squalor and shallowness of the Beat scene that probably ran rampant on campuses. And yes, it explores a lesbian relationship, but in a sensitive way instead of a sensational manner. Much of the novel is explicit and somewhat brutal for its time. And Valerie Taylor had a terrific eye for social observations that is often missed in standard paperback fiction of the day. "Unemployment in other parts of the country brought Negroes, hillbillies and Latin Americans into the city at the rate of three or four thousand a day, to crowd overflowing tenements and seek non-existent jobs." I suppose one could say that the ending isn't particularly realistic, but the demands of paperback publishers of the day didn't give writers a lot of room to work with in wrapping up a story within an expected page count. But the novel has a lot of subjects worth exploration in its short length. More than you'd expect from just another dime-store disposable paperback.

This edition also contains a forward and afterward that examines the history of "pulp" novels, especially those written by women. Worth picking up for anyone interested in the genre.

[Evan · Rating 3 out of 5]

[EXHIBIT A of why it's important for me to get my thoughts about books down in writing at the time of reading. Here's a review I wrote in 2010 of a book I have ZERO recollection of reading. And yet, here it is; a detailed review proving I did, indeed, read it. Reposted with some slight corrections].

--
This book was mentioned in another book I read recently in a chapter discussing gay and lesbian history. The book was written by a lesbian writer for the pulp trade and published in 1959. Like most pulp books its main audience was heterosexual men and the objective was titillation. But Taylor is a better writer than that, and this book is smart, sympathetic, charming and fairly non-sensationalistic, with plenty of elements of a cautionary tale.

Three country girls, high school friends, from Iowa trek to Chicago to see if they can make a go at life on their own, living in a dingy apartment on the South Side in the 1950s. The trio, Annice, Pat and Barby each have their own backstory and personalities, which Taylor details just enough as necessary for the story. Barby, the daughter of a successful department store owner, seems to be the most mysterious of the three; sexual abuse in her past has made her leery of men. The other two girls, it seems, are looking for love in all the wrong places; fantasizing over bad boys and wolfish executives. Annice learns the hard way in her fling with a loafing, arrogant, drug-using beatnik prick, while Pat reluctantly seems to be heading toward a conventional marriage path. At first, it looks like the book is going to be told from Annice's point of view, but soon we see that Taylor has a more ambitious agenda and juggles her shifting centers of interest between the inner thoughts and actions of the three girls with ease.

Although Taylor wants to show the limited options for women in the patriarchal-marriage-menial jobs dynamic of the 1950s, she is not so simplistic as to depict all the men as leering assholes. Several of the men are sympathetic characters, even though all of them have a healthy sex drive, but this is something that all the characters realize and accept as normal. Barby's relationship with an older lesbian mentor is handled tastefully and sweetly; there are no regrets or suicides or recriminations -- something probably refreshing for a lesbian-flavored novel of the time. There is sexual abuse in Barby's past and a series of sleazy and guilt-ridden liaisons with the Italian janitor, and it seems like these are meant to build sympathy for Barby so that her path to lesbianism seems "acceptable" for readers of the time. The poignant and sad state of the non-acceptance of lesbian love at the time, in which it had to be hidden, is summed up by one character: "As long as nobody can actually prove anything it's all right."

The book offers a fairly vivid portrait of living and working in Chicago in the 1950s. Near the end, when the office wolf finally makes a move, Pat finds her childish romantic fantasies not so much shattered as willingly abandoned; her reflections on her own sense of right and wrong are very touching. She is growing up. I vacillated between three and four stars on this. It was very enjoyable, perhaps surprisingly so. It's a solid effort.

2010/slight edits 2019 eg/kr

[Jason · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book has some gems that kept made me happy I read it. For example, Chapter Seven takes place at a college poetry gathering (the book was first published in 1959). Here's some great dialog:

"Emily Dickinson yet. She's reactionary. You ought to read Henry Miller and learn a new idiom."

"I disagree," the dark man beside the fireplace said. "Emily's in the vanguard. You kids are old-fashioned. But then,"he said sadly, "your whole generation's reactionary."

"You're quite right." The popeyed girl pushed up her pink-rimmed glasses. "We're still hanging on to the standards formed in the Twenties, the Golden Age of revolt. Kerouac says-"

[tortoise dreams · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Girls in 3-B reminded me of an old Joan Crawford film (all seven minutes of her), The Best of Everything (1959), based on a 1958 novel by Rona Jaffe, about three young women from various parts of the country who come to New York to make their way. Similarly this short novel concerns three country girls venturing to the big city, Chicago, to work or go to school. The three women are naïve and overconfident, in a word: callow. And in the insecure overconfidence of their poor judgment they make a surfeit of poor choices. I don't know much about the 1950's, but these young women certainly knew little about self-preservation and less about self-determination. Putting oneself first and self-care were foreign concepts. Although somewhat melodramatic and disturbingly (and sadly) rapey, The Girls in 3-B wasn't especially exploitative or exaggerated, not very pulpy. The lesbian elements are restrained and credible. Tasteful. I think of pulp as sadistic violence, amped up sex, leering perversion (or what was considered so at the time), sensationalism. This mostly seemed pretty straight forward and certainly wasn't written for the male gaze. No self-respecting lech would read even these 150 short pages for this PG-rated modern morality tale. This seems more like a booklet of instructive lessons for young women on their own about red flags and common sense. Of the three women, one saves herself, one gets saved, and one stumbles onto a savior. The lesbian relationship (what I guess the hype's all about) is presented as a reasonable alternative to traditional marriage. Even some of the peripheral characters were illuminating, but the men are mostly bland or somewhat evil. One element I appreciated was that Valerie Taylor never diminished the value and necessity of work. Far too many authors treat money and a job as unnecessary frivolities that interfere with the plot. Taylor amply demonstrates the necessity of both to survival. For the gritty realism there was a peyote episode, but nothing like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Taylor included a brief but welcome recognition of the different lives of people of color, years before I might've expected it. After my first reading the book seemed fairly innocuous (these days) and basic, but the more I thought about it the more I realized there was more to think about. An excellent book to discuss: compare and contrast. There's more here to look at than first meets the eye. Thoughtful and enjoyable. The lengthy Afterword was useful and a good addition. [4★]

[Shoshanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I expected something more like Ann Bannon's works. Actually, I expected something more honestly Lesbian, since Valerie Taylor is an actual Lesbian author and Ann Bannon is straight. I have learned never to expect anything like The Price of Salt, or some of the contemporary Lesbian books I have absolutely loved (Milk Fed, Last Night at the Telegraph Club, The Stars and the Blackness Between Them), but what you get with this book is still something interesting!

The Girls in 3-B follows three young women who come from the same small town (honestly it doesn't seem like the same town but later the text says it is) to Chicago to try to make their way as modern young women! One tries to attend college but gets waylaid by some terrible boho boy (I really love how this book makes fun of fake boho culture). One works in an office and looks for love amidst a powerful crush. One figures out she's gay!!!!

There is honestly very little gay content in this book and the story doesn't really even feel like a fully developed beginning, middle, and end. I feel like we are just getting a little taste of parts of three women's lives in a small period of time, but the resolution doesn't really feel that satisfying. What I appreciate the most about this book is that it's another view of contemporary late 1950's writing, and it's really interesting to see the way women's issues and sexual issues are discussed in that era!

Be aware, there is description of non consensual sex in this book, so if that is a trigger, best to skip this book.

[Malum · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not strictly lesbian pulp, as the lesbian relationship isn't the main focus of the book.
An interesting read because the lesbian relationship is one of the more normal of the story, where other pulps of the era show lesbian relationships as doomed at best and a product of mental illness at worst.

[Jay Wright · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Reading books by women and about women in the 1950s makes me very happy to not be a woman in the 1950s

[Radclyffe U-Haul · Rating 5 out of 5]

Unequivocally happy ending for the lesbian couple. General vibe that lesbianism is the result of (hetero) trauma but at least no one calls it childish or anything. Ilene Gordon is a very sympathetic rendering of what's usually an ugly stereotype (older "confirmed lesbian" preys on innocent traumatized girl; except here she's a savior figure).

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

I guess I feel the way I should feel having read this in 2019. We could have been (and still could be) much better humans.

[Clar Hart · Rating 2 out of 5]

(Full review here: https://www.sgn.org/story.php?ch=arts...)

Content warning: Sexual assault, pedophilia, incest, domestic violence

Sometimes the stories with "happy" endings are the saddest of all.

To summarize, three women from the sticks — Pat, Annice, and must-be-protected-at-all-costs Barby — go to Chicago to try to make their way. Pat works an office job, while Annice gets involved in the local beat scene and strives to be a poet.

They struggle under the weight of an internalized patriarchy they don't realize they're carrying, i.e., they're total pick-me girls. Pat talks about the older single women in her office enjoying each other's company with repulsion, unable to imagine that women without men could be happy. Annice detests the "ugly" girls in the beat movement, while lauding how attractive and intellectual the men's ugliness is.

After narrowly surviving predatory men, they find nice boys their parents would approve of and move back to the suburbs to start the family life they initially despised. Both had ambitions for independence and lives different than the ones their mothers lived, but, when faced with a world that sees them as consumables, they have fled back to what they originally thought of as stagnancy, seeing it now as stability. These characters' happy endings are happy according to their own expectations, but damn if they aren't tragic by mine.

Barby, the last roommate, is the sweet cinnamon roll of the group. She was sexually assaulted at 13 by her father's friend. She was unable to go to her mother, who had told her that to be assaulted is to be ruined. The only one who knows is her father, who has his own incestuous feelings toward her — unacted upon but tangible in every interaction. She's trapped by the norms of the nuclear family and suburban life. She struggles with debilitating migraines and feelings of worthlessness and inner rot. When she gets to the city, she revels in the anonymity. In her invisibility, she's safe.

At work, Barby meets a beautiful older woman, Ilene, who takes her out to lunches and eventually leaves a Gay romance novel at her workstation. Barby, curious and eager, devours it. In one telling scene, Barby reads this book on a davenport — a symbol previously of suburban rot, her assault, and her father's harassment — and, for the first time, she relaxes. The book ushers her into a world beyond the one she's known, into one where she can finally belong and feel secure, something she had never thought was possible for her.

A covert Gay novel slipped into her things by a mysterious older woman? If only every Queer landing could be so soft. Crucial to their relationship is that Ilene tells Barby she doesn't have to speak about her past. To love and be loved is a baptism of sorts, where what Barby thinks is rotten about herself is cleansed.

The Girls in 3B is notable for being the first book in which a Queer gets a happy ending. Arguably, the only happy ending. Barby and Ilene's relationship is the only one not saturated with deceit. Ilene is the only one to ask for consent. She alone acknowledges their difficulties and gives information that allows her partner to discover herself and make an informed decision. Barby, in turn, is honest about her attraction and expresses it.

None of this is allowed in straight 1950s relationships. Pat's fiancé, against Pat's firm refusal, still attempts to have sex with her — and Pat says that, if he hadn't, she wouldn't have felt desired. Pat's husband also doesn't know what it's like to be desired by a woman or to feel attractive; since women of the time aren't allowed to express desire, all he's learned is to push.

Beyond deceit, there's overt violence. Annice's husband tells her that he'll beat her if she cheats, and Annice tells him that she wouldn't respect him if he wasn't willing to beat a woman. Internalized patriarchy's a bitch.

They all find themselves safely ensconced in a home and with a partner by the end. Each of these happy endings is a refuge from an unwelcoming world, but that safety hinges on their isolation. None of them have friends or significant relationships outside of their partner. All of them go into their partnerships as a form of escape from something worse. The only option for women of this era in their circumstances was the abyss of domesticity and the prison of home.

In the end, I can only give these characters the same response I give when yet another straight friend announces their engagement to a milquetoast man: a pained grin and an "I'm happy you're happy."

[Elna Holst · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Girls in 3-B is an interesting read from a historical perspective, even if the lesbian romance, which was like a miniature version of Carol minus the drama, did not occur until halfway through. I really don’t mind as the insight into the pitfalls and problems faced by young, single women in 1950s Chicago was equal parts fascinating and horrifying. If you’ve read Kerouac’s On the Road, here’s the perspective of the women who were (by and large) the victims of the Beat movement, and of an insidious chauvinistic culture in general.

Taylor was obviously constrained by the conventions of the pulp paperback genre; there’s the psychosexual explanations of homosexuality (queer women are either masculine predators or feminine victims of rape and abuse), and the final resolution of the women’s problems is generally a fall-back into the heteronormative happy-marriage fold. But what has made this a lesbian classic is Taylor’s resistance to portraying the lesbian coupling as a degenerate thrill ride for the heterosexual male gaze. Slyly, she withholds the explicit information on what the sapphic characters actually get up to between the sheets, choosing instead to focus on their sense of satisfaction and emotional completeness, and—shock and horror—quietly letting them stay together as the book ends, in a mirroring of the other two narrative threads (there are three girls in 3-B, after all) that end in (much more problematic) heterosexual marriages.

On a personal note, I appreciated Taylor’s realistic depictions of migraine auras and attacks throughout the book, even if I didn’t buy into the implicit psychological explanations for these. The onset of menstruation seems a much more likely culprit.

[Kaylee · Rating 2 out of 5]

I went from one rough read because of blatant racist and misogynist language to another rough read where the bigotry was "hidden". I understand what Taylor was doing, and bravo for her deciding to bridge that stereotypical pulp lesbian fiction of the time with something a little closer to reality.

Still, a rough read, especially knowing that all(?) of her lesbian characters all "became" so after some traumatic event(s) with men. The afterword in this edition captured most of my thoughts -- I was ultimately glad for Pat and Barby's characters, and I was pissed about Annice (and I'm pretty sure that's how it was supposed to be). But goodness, reading this just made me think of my grandma and how she was a single working woman with two daughters in the 50's, and all of the crap she must have endured.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Girls in 3-B was cute and good-natured, but unfortunately pretty boring. Its conceit -- that a lesbian relationship could be more loving and respectful than many straight relationships are -- was pretty subversive for its time, but for my part its value is mostly as a historical curiosity rather than as a durable work of entertainment. Far too many pages are spent on the heterosexual characters' dating lives, the miserable schmucks who waste their time and treat them like they're disposable, and the lede is buried over a hundred pages in when lesbians are finally mentioned for the first time. I don't think I've ever read an old-school pulp novel before this one, so I can at least check that off my list.

[An nika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very stressful read lol
Again a dope afterword that connected a bunch of strings, life and times wise about the social history surrounding the book
I feel more like these girls than I expected work-wise location-wise, everything cept the expectation of marriage xoxo
Fascinating how they so instantly grow apart
Was also expecting this to be like, sexier
What is a pulp novel anyway; how is this one?
Wanna find out more about Valerie Taylor; wish I had gone on the Read Run about it
...
I actually don't think this is fantastic literature but it is so fascinating as a document of it's time, and I'm so thrilled by the attitudes portrayed by it about sexuality and working class living

[Erin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a pretty respectable slice-of-life collection of stories of women just trying to make their way in the world, in 1950s Chicago. With the lesbian subplot being what brought me to the tale, whilst a read through the canon of 50s lesbian pulps. Though I thought the collection of relationships with men portrayed were worthwhile portrayals, in all their mostly abominable nature. This book pulls no punches vis-a-vis the plight of women in the 1950s working/relationships sphere. In particular, in the portrayal of dating a self-obsessed beatnik nihilist, as one of the girls does. It felt very authentic (in its awful absurdity) to what that would be like.

[Raquel · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting and decently written pulp reprint by the Feminist Press that provides a good look at the lives of 3 women struggling against the constraints of femininity in post-war America. The added front and back matter essays provide great context on genre/pulp publishing in America as well as how female characters were treated by the author, specifically her view on lesbianism.

Kudos to the author for the creation of Alan the Beat writer, quite possibly one of the most loathsome examples of a male character I've ever come across in all my days.

[Amris · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 Stars

Valerie Taylor's The Girls in 3-B is an interesting example of lesbian pulp fiction. I studied lesbian pulp fiction in college, specifically for a Historical Perspectives on American Sexuality class, so I'm unsure how someone without prior knowledge of the genre would appreciate it. Lesbian pulp fiction was an exploitative paperback phenomenon that claimed to be a glimpse into the secret world of lesbianism, but was typically written by men using a female pseudonym. Girls doesn't quite fit this mold, in part because Taylor was the pen name of Velma Young, a bisexual writer.

Taylor's personal identity aside, the novel subverts the tropes of the genre. While other writers were needlessly exploitative: They were often overly descriptive of the characters... anatomies, and contained explicit scenes. Girls instead focuses on the psychology of the three main characters, and how sexism affects their lives. This makes the novel feel especially feminist, especially with the history of the genre.

The novel itself is an interesting historical relic. The afterword in this edition is a great bonus to the story, and provides more cultural context to the story. I must admit that it made me appreciate the novel more.

[J.X. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Absolutely deserves its place in feminist and lesbian pulp history. Though I didn't quite enjoy Pat and Annice's stories as much, they still served as a sharp critique of the predicament newly-liberated women found themselves in thanks to suffrage and their post-war world. But my girl Barby... she too-well deserved to be happy.

...and her father can screw himself.

[erxca · Rating 4 out of 5]

For a book published in the 1950’s, it touches on a lot of taboo and everyday experiences of women today and back then. I was happily surprised. The character development was solid and I appreciated that characters mentioned in the beginning were brought back towards the end in each of the girls’ storylines.

[chats · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this surprisingly dense considering how short it is. In some ways, it feels delightfully close at hand, especially since it’s set in chicago and Hyde Park, and I felt genuinely interested in the characters. On the other hand, it is a pulp novel, and every decision someone makes is going to end in drama - except the lesbians, which makes this little 1950s slice feel unexpected and brave.

[Lies · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found this book on a list in the internet titled "lesbian pulp fiction classics". And well, sometimes a book is a classic, but sometimes classics are also not very good. Which is to say, there was a lesbian happy ending (yay for that), but also mostly non lesbian characters who happened to be quite insufferable.

[Cora · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lesbian pulp from 1959; of historical interest primarily, since the dictates of even sympathetic lesbian pulp novels from the 50s aren't much like those of modern day f/f romance. Still it has its moments; Taylor is a very funny writer, and her depiction of 1950s heterosexuality is absolutely savage, and the lesbian that seduces Barby is really iconic.

[Bailey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Okay we did get a technically happy ending but with such a horrific lead up it was still tough to read at times. It was fun to read about the straight girlies like it was just crazy gossip. Very abrupt ending but fine enough!