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Marlo
A novel of two men, love, and aching loneliness.
It's the 1950s in conservative Australia, and Christopher, a young gay man, moves to ‘the City’ to escape the repressive atmosphere of his tiny hometown. Once there, however, he finds that it is just as censorial and punitive, in its own way.
Then Christopher meets Morgan, an Aboriginal man, and the two fall in love — a love that breathes truth back into Christopher’s stifled life. But the society around them remains rigid and unchanging, and what begins as a refuge for both men inevitably buckles under the intensity of navigating a world that wants them to refuse what they are.
In reviving a time that is still so recent yet so vastly different from now, Jay Carmichael has drawn on archival material, snippets of newspaper articles, and photos to create the claustrophobic environment in which these two men lived and tried to love. Told with Carmichael’s ear for sparse, poetic beauty, Marlo takes us into the heartbreaking landscape of a relationship defined as much by what is said and shared as by what has to remain unsaid, and unlived.
It's the 1950s in conservative Australia, and Christopher, a young gay man, moves to ‘the City’ to escape the repressive atmosphere of his tiny hometown. Once there, however, he finds that it is just as censorial and punitive, in its own way.
Then Christopher meets Morgan, an Aboriginal man, and the two fall in love — a love that breathes truth back into Christopher’s stifled life. But the society around them remains rigid and unchanging, and what begins as a refuge for both men inevitably buckles under the intensity of navigating a world that wants them to refuse what they are.
In reviving a time that is still so recent yet so vastly different from now, Jay Carmichael has drawn on archival material, snippets of newspaper articles, and photos to create the claustrophobic environment in which these two men lived and tried to love. Told with Carmichael’s ear for sparse, poetic beauty, Marlo takes us into the heartbreaking landscape of a relationship defined as much by what is said and shared as by what has to remain unsaid, and unlived.
128 pages, Paperback
First published August 2, 2022
10 people are currently reading
915 people want to read
About the author
Jay Carmichael
4 books11 followersJay Carmichael is the author of Ironbark, which was shortlisted for the 2019 Victorian Premier’s Literary Award for fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 70 reviews
June 11, 2023
This a short read about Christopher and his life in 1950s Australia.
A difficult and engaging read that touches on the homophobia, racism and masculinity of the time.
Well written, with an expert eye for detail I seemed to be in l the gardens, Christopher frequented, the garage he worked in and also could feel the claustrophobia he felt back in his home town.
A difficult and engaging read that touches on the homophobia, racism and masculinity of the time.
Well written, with an expert eye for detail I seemed to be in l the gardens, Christopher frequented, the garage he worked in and also could feel the claustrophobia he felt back in his home town.
August 2, 2023
4.5
A novella that captures what being queer was like in Australia in the 40-50’s, filled with gentle prose and a sense of heart break with every turn of the page.
The way this was written was sharp,engaging, dignified and I will be checking out Carmichael’s other works.
A novella that captures what being queer was like in Australia in the 40-50’s, filled with gentle prose and a sense of heart break with every turn of the page.
The way this was written was sharp,engaging, dignified and I will be checking out Carmichael’s other works.
March 29, 2024
The writing. Or the translation. Whatever it is didn’t work for me.
August 6, 2025
There are two pieces from this superb and powerful novel I want to quote. The first is right at the beginning:
"Any male person who in public or in private commits or is party to the commission of or procures or attempts to procure the commission by any male person of an act of gross indecency with another male person shall be guilty of a misdemeanour and shall be liable to imprisonment of a term of not more than three years."
The second occurs right at the end:
"...There's a gap in what we today can know or understand about how life was lived as a male homosexual under society scrutiny and persecution during mid-century Australia. Such lives must be largely inferred. This is the task of the historical novel."
As statements about life pre-gay liberation either statement can describe almost any English speaking country in the mid twentieth century. Even after events such as Stonewall in the USA in 1969 or the very limited decriminalisation of homosexuality in England in 1966, actual change was painstakingly slow. Also it is horrifying but necessary to remember those statements still describes the reality of 'homosexual' men, and women, in many countries today.
I can't think of better novel for any gay person, who has grown-up in a country where their existence is accepted, to read so as to understand how nightmarish the world of the 'closet' was. It was not a metaphor but a reality which provided both safety and existential death. That the novel also thrusts into our faces the reality of the 'White Australia' policy is what actually gives the novel its depth and impact.
The past is, to use that over-used cliche, 'another country' where 'they do things differently' but that doesn't mean it isn't true or worth remembering. So much 'gay' fiction today is 'historical' in its setting yet so little of it bears any resemblance to a real attempt to understood or illuminate what has gone. Rather the past is a set of fancy dress that is used to hide an author's inability to engage with the times they live in (I am thinking of Allan Hollinghurst). That is why Mr. Carmichael's proclamation of the job of a historical novel is so important. 'Marlo' is not about 'gay' men it is not about being 'gay' it is about being true to yourself. How you do that is not defined, it is problematic, shadowy, difficult, uncertain, but the only thing that can redeem who you are.
The lies we tell ourselves, the wall we build around ourselves, the connections we do not make, the betrayals of ourselves, these are the victories of hate because we do them to ourselves.
An exceptionally fine novel.
"Any male person who in public or in private commits or is party to the commission of or procures or attempts to procure the commission by any male person of an act of gross indecency with another male person shall be guilty of a misdemeanour and shall be liable to imprisonment of a term of not more than three years."
The second occurs right at the end:
"...There's a gap in what we today can know or understand about how life was lived as a male homosexual under society scrutiny and persecution during mid-century Australia. Such lives must be largely inferred. This is the task of the historical novel."
As statements about life pre-gay liberation either statement can describe almost any English speaking country in the mid twentieth century. Even after events such as Stonewall in the USA in 1969 or the very limited decriminalisation of homosexuality in England in 1966, actual change was painstakingly slow. Also it is horrifying but necessary to remember those statements still describes the reality of 'homosexual' men, and women, in many countries today.
I can't think of better novel for any gay person, who has grown-up in a country where their existence is accepted, to read so as to understand how nightmarish the world of the 'closet' was. It was not a metaphor but a reality which provided both safety and existential death. That the novel also thrusts into our faces the reality of the 'White Australia' policy is what actually gives the novel its depth and impact.
The past is, to use that over-used cliche, 'another country' where 'they do things differently' but that doesn't mean it isn't true or worth remembering. So much 'gay' fiction today is 'historical' in its setting yet so little of it bears any resemblance to a real attempt to understood or illuminate what has gone. Rather the past is a set of fancy dress that is used to hide an author's inability to engage with the times they live in (I am thinking of Allan Hollinghurst). That is why Mr. Carmichael's proclamation of the job of a historical novel is so important. 'Marlo' is not about 'gay' men it is not about being 'gay' it is about being true to yourself. How you do that is not defined, it is problematic, shadowy, difficult, uncertain, but the only thing that can redeem who you are.
The lies we tell ourselves, the wall we build around ourselves, the connections we do not make, the betrayals of ourselves, these are the victories of hate because we do them to ourselves.
An exceptionally fine novel.
October 31, 2022
This was a poignant and engaging account of the journey of a young man in 1950s Melbourne that charted themes of loss, desire, confusion and loneliness. A well crafted view of our city and culture in this time from a perspective that is not greatly known.
April 8, 2023
A queer novel that actually sticks the landing? How good!
June 30, 2023
a beautiful exploration of the queer lifestyle in australia during the 1950s
December 9, 2023
Christopher, a young gay man leaves his rural Australian home to live what he hopes will be a freer life in 1950s Melbourne. The city presents its own challenges, even after he meets and falls in love with Morgan. Will each find what they want with the other?
An impressive, if short, novel, quite touching and filled with social and cultural detail; stylistically poetic in places which gives it added depth. Would appeal to anyone who has read and enjoyed Bethan Roberts's My Policeman.
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An impressive, if short, novel, quite touching and filled with social and cultural detail; stylistically poetic in places which gives it added depth. Would appeal to anyone who has read and enjoyed Bethan Roberts's My Policeman.
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June 10, 2025
3,5
Likte denne veldig godt, men skulle ønske at den var lengre🙃
Likte denne veldig godt, men skulle ønske at den var lengre🙃
August 3, 2022
In the early 1950s Christopher, a young gay man, escapes his repressive and tiny hometown for ‘the City’. While he is there, he meets Morgan, but together they find that Melbourne is just as censorial and punitive as the small town Christopher grew up in.
The love between the two men grows, but the society around the remains unchanged. What started as a refuge for both men soon begins to buckle under the intensity of navigating a world that wants them to refuse what they are.
Set in a time when “gross indecency” between two men was considered highly illegal, and homosexuality was considered a medical disease, Marlo is an eye opening and heartbreaking look at the life of young gay men in the 1950s. It’s an insightful story set in a time that seems like so long ago, but in reality was fairly recent. Christopher is a young man with so much to learn, about society and himself, and his growth is equal parts uplifting and poignant as he finds his place in the world. While Morgan first seems put together, confident, and sure of himself, as Christopher learns more about him it becomes clear that he too is just a young man finding his way in the world. Both characters are relatable despite living in times vastly different to our own.
Marlo offers a glimpse into the tragic, emotional, human side of Australia’s recent history and legislation.
The love between the two men grows, but the society around the remains unchanged. What started as a refuge for both men soon begins to buckle under the intensity of navigating a world that wants them to refuse what they are.
Set in a time when “gross indecency” between two men was considered highly illegal, and homosexuality was considered a medical disease, Marlo is an eye opening and heartbreaking look at the life of young gay men in the 1950s. It’s an insightful story set in a time that seems like so long ago, but in reality was fairly recent. Christopher is a young man with so much to learn, about society and himself, and his growth is equal parts uplifting and poignant as he finds his place in the world. While Morgan first seems put together, confident, and sure of himself, as Christopher learns more about him it becomes clear that he too is just a young man finding his way in the world. Both characters are relatable despite living in times vastly different to our own.
Marlo offers a glimpse into the tragic, emotional, human side of Australia’s recent history and legislation.
February 24, 2024
I really wanted to like this novel but found it quite disappointing. Jay Carmichael has done a wonderful job of illustrating gay life in 1950s Australia, it's clear from his words, the historical photographs and the afterword that this is very well researched but unfortunately, I think this doesn't translate well into a fully realised novel with developed characters. The story is there, it's quite beautiful but I found the characters lack depth. It wasn't until the end that we see Christopher explode with emotion, but the scenes here fell flat and weren't enough to hook me in. It's a nice novel, and I can understand why it will appeal to many but I just didn't believe in Christopher's character and his story; the escaping of Marlo for its repressive atmosphere, the love between him and Morgan and the societal pressures they were facing other than the frequent reminders of news reports of gays being convicted.
For me, the afterword was the highlight of this novel. I would love to read a whole book dedicated to the subject of documenting gay life in 1950s Australia, beyond what history has already told us. For example, there are wonderful photographs from the Tommy McDermott Collection from Australian Queer Archives in Marlo which I'm sure would reveal more about these people, their stories and how they found ways to live with some investigation.
For me, the afterword was the highlight of this novel. I would love to read a whole book dedicated to the subject of documenting gay life in 1950s Australia, beyond what history has already told us. For example, there are wonderful photographs from the Tommy McDermott Collection from Australian Queer Archives in Marlo which I'm sure would reveal more about these people, their stories and how they found ways to live with some investigation.
May 14, 2022
A gentle snapshot into the life of a gay man in Melbourne during the 1950s, and how truly closeted gay relationships had to be due to it being deemed a criminal act. Though only a novella, Jay is able to capture the heartache of trying to live as a gay male, and also the plight of Indigenous men being allowed to live freely.
February 6, 2024
Two stars may be harsh - couldn't really decide between two and three stars . Touching and sensitive and it's just sad really that people couldn't lead the lives they wanted to lead. The style of writing and lack of depth annoyed me a bit and made it difficult to connect with the characters, hence the low rating
September 4, 2022
Set primarily in 1950s Melbourne, this novel explores the story of two men - one white, one Indigenous – as they navigate secrecy, race, self-identity and a hostile wider Australian community/culture.
February 13, 2023
This book feels unfinished. There are gaps and traces you feel inclined to fill by making assumptions but I really think that’s part of the allure of the work.
The author’s note is wonderful and I’m glad it was at the end. It rounded out what was missing.
The author’s note is wonderful and I’m glad it was at the end. It rounded out what was missing.
July 10, 2023
I wish it was longer.
November 3, 2023
It’s a good piece to learn about the struggles of being gay and from a small town in the 50’s. Easy to read and very beautifully written
September 13, 2022
Let me tell you, I am not, as a general rule, interested in relationship stories about love. Falling in love, years of married/partnered love, loss of love, frustrated love, failings of love, betrayed love... with apologies to all the authors slaving over such themes, meh, I am probably not interested. (But lots of other readers are, so don't let me discourage you.)
Love is important, of course. But I suspect that the reason the riches of the English language don't include any words to describe the kinds of love that matter to us is because the Brits, and those of us that retain a bit of Brit despite many years elsewhere, tend to retain some reserve about it. Of course we desire, and sometimes enjoy the love for which our language is lacking: the love of lovers, of long-term spouses and partners, of parents, of children, of siblings, of best friends, of fur babies and even for horses, plus the love for substitutes for all of these when they fail us as they so often do. (Well, not dogs, and I am not joking. My dear old music teacher loved dogs more than people all her life, and they never failed her. They repaid her with devotion till they died.)
But equality in love — the opportunity to find it, feel it, be swamped by passion, to marry or partner, to make a family, to muck it up or to lose it, that's a different thing. Being denied love because you're the wrong one, or the wrong colour, or the wrong class, or the wrong religion or the wrong gender — when authors tackle that, whether in Pygmalion or Coonardoo, I am interested. Especially if there are institutional barriers getting in the way of a fundamental human right.
Marlo, Jay Carmichael's follow-up to the well-regarded Ironbark (2018), reveals the hostile environment of 1950s Melbourne for a young man discovering his sexuality when the laws of the land denied him the right to be. It's a very powerful, moving novella, tracing the coming-of-age of Christopher, a young gay man escaping the constrictions of the small Gippsland town of Marlo. Although this is a tender story written with dignity and hope, Marlo makes it impossible not to feel angry about the anguish of the two lovers, who are negotiating fear of rejection, of detection, of mockery, of police and community brutality, of press condemnation and of judicial punishment.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2022/09/13/m...
Love is important, of course. But I suspect that the reason the riches of the English language don't include any words to describe the kinds of love that matter to us is because the Brits, and those of us that retain a bit of Brit despite many years elsewhere, tend to retain some reserve about it. Of course we desire, and sometimes enjoy the love for which our language is lacking: the love of lovers, of long-term spouses and partners, of parents, of children, of siblings, of best friends, of fur babies and even for horses, plus the love for substitutes for all of these when they fail us as they so often do. (Well, not dogs, and I am not joking. My dear old music teacher loved dogs more than people all her life, and they never failed her. They repaid her with devotion till they died.)
But equality in love — the opportunity to find it, feel it, be swamped by passion, to marry or partner, to make a family, to muck it up or to lose it, that's a different thing. Being denied love because you're the wrong one, or the wrong colour, or the wrong class, or the wrong religion or the wrong gender — when authors tackle that, whether in Pygmalion or Coonardoo, I am interested. Especially if there are institutional barriers getting in the way of a fundamental human right.
Marlo, Jay Carmichael's follow-up to the well-regarded Ironbark (2018), reveals the hostile environment of 1950s Melbourne for a young man discovering his sexuality when the laws of the land denied him the right to be. It's a very powerful, moving novella, tracing the coming-of-age of Christopher, a young gay man escaping the constrictions of the small Gippsland town of Marlo. Although this is a tender story written with dignity and hope, Marlo makes it impossible not to feel angry about the anguish of the two lovers, who are negotiating fear of rejection, of detection, of mockery, of police and community brutality, of press condemnation and of judicial punishment.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2022/09/13/m...
March 9, 2023
The author's intention to write a historical account of what life for men who love men was like in the post-WW2 years set in the land downunder was well delivered. Whilst the title refers to the small Gippsland country township from which MC Christopher escapes, the bulk of the action stays focused on what he encounters upon settling in 'the big smoke' that is Melbourne. There is no high drama or violent assaults but Christopher finds the oppressive suffocation (without as much from within) traveled with him from his isolated rural existence to a new and alien suburban life. Any hopes for a liberating renaissance is dashed by a self-imposed and fear-driven 'hidden' existence - I could feel his bleak mind-numbing despair. Kudos however to the author for writing such lyrical / evocative descriptive passages - I was quite moved.
The interjection of Morgan into his life brings greater desire / hope for a better world - and does result in them trying their best to create a 'safe harbor' for themselves amidst the homophobia and racism (a 'double-whammy' for Morgan). This is not a M-M romance so do not expect scenes of M-M action (these remain alluded to rather than explicit). The ending was a little abrupt/truncated but there was a sense of defiant exhaustion as the trajectory for the MC's (the same type of feeling I got from the end of Nigel Featherstone's My Heart Is a Little Wild Thing). I can imagine them both participating in the fight for the decriminalization of homosexuality in the early to mid 1970s as the state of Victoria starts to evolve into one of the most progressive Australian jurisdictions with respect to the rights of LGBTIQ+ folk.
The interjection of Morgan into his life brings greater desire / hope for a better world - and does result in them trying their best to create a 'safe harbor' for themselves amidst the homophobia and racism (a 'double-whammy' for Morgan). This is not a M-M romance so do not expect scenes of M-M action (these remain alluded to rather than explicit). The ending was a little abrupt/truncated but there was a sense of defiant exhaustion as the trajectory for the MC's (the same type of feeling I got from the end of Nigel Featherstone's My Heart Is a Little Wild Thing). I can imagine them both participating in the fight for the decriminalization of homosexuality in the early to mid 1970s as the state of Victoria starts to evolve into one of the most progressive Australian jurisdictions with respect to the rights of LGBTIQ+ folk.
January 31, 2025
a beautifully bittersweet novella offering a speculative glimpse of queer life in 1950s australia.
your mileage may vary on the poetic style of writing. i personally fluctuated between being drawn in by it, as there are many beautiful lyrical passages, and feeling somewhat alienated from the characters experiences by it. it is certainly a fitting form of prose for the story of 'a relationship defined as much by what is said and shared as by what has to remain unsaid,' but given the author's note outlining Carmichael's intention to fill 'a gap in what we today can know and understand about how life was lived as a male homosexual under social scrutiny and persecution during mid-century Australia,' i do wonder if perhaps this more abstract style of writing could've been balanced with more traditional prose to add greater clarity to his account of this period and his character's experiences.
however, the story is nonetheless a moving and bittersweet story of persecution and attempting to carve out a place for yourself in a world which expressly forbids it.
your mileage may vary on the poetic style of writing. i personally fluctuated between being drawn in by it, as there are many beautiful lyrical passages, and feeling somewhat alienated from the characters experiences by it. it is certainly a fitting form of prose for the story of 'a relationship defined as much by what is said and shared as by what has to remain unsaid,' but given the author's note outlining Carmichael's intention to fill 'a gap in what we today can know and understand about how life was lived as a male homosexual under social scrutiny and persecution during mid-century Australia,' i do wonder if perhaps this more abstract style of writing could've been balanced with more traditional prose to add greater clarity to his account of this period and his character's experiences.
however, the story is nonetheless a moving and bittersweet story of persecution and attempting to carve out a place for yourself in a world which expressly forbids it.
June 8, 2024
I was completely sold when I read the blurb at the bookstore. I was expecting a gut wrenching and revelatory reading experience, with the adversities gay men faced in 1950’s Australia, and a forbidden love story between two gay men.
For the most part I did get where the author was getting at: the raging homophobia in the 50’s, the repressive society, the racism; and I do think that it is important to write about all these topics. The part that fell short for me was the lack of emotional depth, and a lack of character development for Christopher. I couldn’t fully submerge myself in the story and subsequently, the ending just didn’t work the way it was intended to.
For the most part I did get where the author was getting at: the raging homophobia in the 50’s, the repressive society, the racism; and I do think that it is important to write about all these topics. The part that fell short for me was the lack of emotional depth, and a lack of character development for Christopher. I couldn’t fully submerge myself in the story and subsequently, the ending just didn’t work the way it was intended to.
February 25, 2025
In this beautiful novella, it feels like the story is told between the words and between the pages. I loved this story.
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August 29, 2023books set in melbourne >>
December 22, 2023
Where’s the flavour?
January 23, 2023
This book didn't explode for me. All it illustrates is that those who have never lived through the intensely homophobic era of the past don't know what it was like, let alone be able to convincingly set a novel in that period. The narrator and his love interest are simply too self-assured and unconflicted in their same-sex attraction; it feels as though they are living in their own 21st century bubble with their almost complete absence of mental anguish or self-hatred. In the 1950s, it would be mentally, emotionally and socially hard enough to have a homosexual affair within one's own race, let alone across the black-white racial divide. The novel glosses over this extra layer of complexity. In truth, there was so racism amongst gay white men then; just because they were persecuted doesn't mean that they were inclusive in their choice of sexual partners. Hence, the pairing comes across as unbelievable but might seem charming to the young reader of today.
One never seems able to get to know the two lovers well and there appears very little emotional intensity in the interactions between them from start to finish. There is also not much sense of being in a different time and the language is rather bland to be honest. I struggle to find a single positive thing to say other than that it's short enough to fit easily into your busy schedule.
One never seems able to get to know the two lovers well and there appears very little emotional intensity in the interactions between them from start to finish. There is also not much sense of being in a different time and the language is rather bland to be honest. I struggle to find a single positive thing to say other than that it's short enough to fit easily into your busy schedule.
February 23, 2023
i’ll add a quote in here later but i finished this book super fast in a day bc it’s really short (only 137 pages) and it was a nice read like i didn’t think it was bad i just don’t think it had the emotional depth i was hoping to find in a gay historical fiction romance. i love those kinds of books and also i bought it because it’s set in australia and i just visited australia so i know some of the places they go to/talk about in the book which was cool, but the romance was just kind of boring? i didn’t feel that they really fell in love so that’s why i was kind of ehh with it. however, i think the writing style was interesting, i underlined a lot of quotes, and the pictures every now and then throughout the book made it more fun. overall nice book :)
September 1, 2022
1.5 stars rounded up because I'm feeling generous. Allegedly this book is supposed to deal with racism, homosexuality, and life in 1950s Australia. It does none of these well. Anti-Aboriginal attitudes appear and then go away despite the author trying to make it a thread throughout the book. The main character is gay but he's so undeveloped that it's hard to care about him at all. And aside from a few, half-hearted generic descriptions of places, the book could be set anywhere. On the plus side, it's short and goes quickly so if you want to risk it, it won't take up too much of your time.
September 14, 2022
A window onto another time - complex, fraught and dangerous. Caught the feeling of a disappeared Melbourne.
November 19, 2023
In 1950s Australia, Christopher moves to ‘the big City’ to feel a bit more freedom as he’s discovering his sexuality, but soon finds the city offers not much more freedom than the countryside in that repressive era. When Chris meets and falls for Morgan, an Aboriginal, he tries to open himself up and tries to open the other, but the times and conditions make it difficult to be free with each other, especially when family become involved.
The author explains through the use of archival material how being a homosexual back then and in that place was not considered a lifestyle but more a medical condition that was to be cured if possible and hidden away from public view at all costs.
I had the feeling that Chris was up for “what had to be done, or not done,” but always acknowledged his sentiments while Morgan was more of a cipher who accepted “what was due him,” while being barely aware of what was in Chris’s soul. Jay Carmichael presents what seems to be authentic period flavor from the middle of the last century and may or may not break a reader’s heart depending on how much the reader feels the return of love.
The author explains through the use of archival material how being a homosexual back then and in that place was not considered a lifestyle but more a medical condition that was to be cured if possible and hidden away from public view at all costs.
I had the feeling that Chris was up for “what had to be done, or not done,” but always acknowledged his sentiments while Morgan was more of a cipher who accepted “what was due him,” while being barely aware of what was in Chris’s soul. Jay Carmichael presents what seems to be authentic period flavor from the middle of the last century and may or may not break a reader’s heart depending on how much the reader feels the return of love.
August 22, 2022
This book doesn’t live up to its reputation. It’s supposedly about a gay boy who leaves country town Marlo, because of the small mindedness and lack of understanding, for the big city of Melbourne. The Marlo scene isn’t described at all. He stays with a heterosexual friend Kings and his girlfriend but there is a chasm between them. He tries the gay scene and fights against it, then is part of it, with Morgon, but its hard to get into the story. Morgon’s his mate. Reckon they fall in love. Sentences. No verbs. For the most part. It’s 1950s, yet poor people guzzle champagne in the Botanic Gardens? Drink merlot? Self-indulgent and boring this book is. If it’s meant to help the reader understand what the 50’s were like for a gay, apart from police harassment, it doesn’t stack up. As one reviewer put it, the author is carrying too much 2020s baggage to make the 1950s convincing.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 70 reviews