A r e p o r t p u b l i s h e d i n 1 7 4 3 informed readers about a recent sodomy trial in Kingston upon Thames.1 One night early that summer, a London waterman had received a tip from a woman selling gingerbread that two “mollies” had just sneaked into Pepper Alley, in Southwark. Mollies were members of an underground queer subculture, mostly workingand lower-middle-class men notorious for their effeminacy and predilection for that “worst of crimes,” sodomy. The waterman understood what the woman was suggesting, and he followed the tip. He stalked the two until they entered a house of office, a lavatory. He spied on them as they whispered together and “talk’d in a very ludicrous manner.” Soon, “he was very well assured, they were Sodomites.” The door could not shut fully with them inside, and through the gap that remained he saw that “they were b——g one another.” In the criminal law, “buggering” had a precise meaning: phallic penetration of the anus. It was a grievous offense, carrying a mandatory capital penalty. But there was no doubt: he “saw them in the very Fact.” The waterman was not satisfied merely with visual inspection. He went to investigate manually but found that the two “were so close that he could not put his Hand between them.” Only “with Difficulty” did he force it in. He grasped the penis and drew it from the other’s anus. (The report renders this action as taking “Hunt’s —— out of the other’s ——.”) In court, the waterman told what he had found. The offending phallus “was wet, and wet his Hand very much.” Some courts and jurists believed that evidence of ejaculation inside the body was necessary to prove this felony.
{"title":"\"O My Poor Arse, My Arse Can Best Tell\": Surgeons, Ordinary Witnesses, and the Sodomitical Body in Georgian Britain","authors":"S. LeJacq","doi":"10.7560/jhs31201","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31201","url":null,"abstract":"A r e p o r t p u b l i s h e d i n 1 7 4 3 informed readers about a recent sodomy trial in Kingston upon Thames.1 One night early that summer, a London waterman had received a tip from a woman selling gingerbread that two “mollies” had just sneaked into Pepper Alley, in Southwark. Mollies were members of an underground queer subculture, mostly workingand lower-middle-class men notorious for their effeminacy and predilection for that “worst of crimes,” sodomy. The waterman understood what the woman was suggesting, and he followed the tip. He stalked the two until they entered a house of office, a lavatory. He spied on them as they whispered together and “talk’d in a very ludicrous manner.” Soon, “he was very well assured, they were Sodomites.” The door could not shut fully with them inside, and through the gap that remained he saw that “they were b——g one another.” In the criminal law, “buggering” had a precise meaning: phallic penetration of the anus. It was a grievous offense, carrying a mandatory capital penalty. But there was no doubt: he “saw them in the very Fact.” The waterman was not satisfied merely with visual inspection. He went to investigate manually but found that the two “were so close that he could not put his Hand between them.” Only “with Difficulty” did he force it in. He grasped the penis and drew it from the other’s anus. (The report renders this action as taking “Hunt’s —— out of the other’s ——.”) In court, the waterman told what he had found. The offending phallus “was wet, and wet his Hand very much.” Some courts and jurists believed that evidence of ejaculation inside the body was necessary to prove this felony.","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"31 1","pages":"137 - 168"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"47848462","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
The 'politics of art' is an openended subject which might admit consideration of any of a number of difficult and exciting issues, from the role of politics in the construction of art to the role of art as a political tool in the construction of the individual or nation, from the possibilities of art as a mechanism of political resistance or social change, to questions of international relations concerning cultural colonisation or the exploitation and appropriation of cultural products. At a more mundane level, there are political questions of whether the arts are to be encouraged by national governments, and if so to what extent and by what mechanisms the arts can and should be promoted. In Art, Culture and Enterprise, Lewis is concerned primarily with these latter questions of arts funding policy in the United Kingdom, and while the issues are somewhat parochial, they are certainly no less complex than the broader socio-
{"title":"Book Reviews","authors":"L. Bently","doi":"10.7560/jhs31205","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31205","url":null,"abstract":"The 'politics of art' is an openended subject which might admit consideration of any of a number of difficult and exciting issues, from the role of politics in the construction of art to the role of art as a political tool in the construction of the individual or nation, from the possibilities of art as a mechanism of political resistance or social change, to questions of international relations concerning cultural colonisation or the exploitation and appropriation of cultural products. At a more mundane level, there are political questions of whether the arts are to be encouraged by national governments, and if so to what extent and by what mechanisms the arts can and should be promoted. In Art, Culture and Enterprise, Lewis is concerned primarily with these latter questions of arts funding policy in the United Kingdom, and while the issues are somewhat parochial, they are certainly no less complex than the broader socio-","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"1 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49211491","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
O n C h r i s t m a s E v E 1942 , in the Russian city of Rostov-on-Don, a soldiers’ brothel opened its doors for business.1 Set up and run by the occupying German army (the Wehrmacht), this establishment provided military men a place to pay for a brief sexual encounter with a local woman. These women were Soviet civilians who had been living under German control since the summer of 1942, when the Wehrmacht occupied Southern Russia on its way to the oil fields of the Caucasus and the city of Stalingrad. Prior to this, Rostov residents had also lived through a brief, failed German occupation, which lasted less than ten days in late November 1941. The second, more substantial occupation of the city began in late July 1942 and continued until early February 1943. From the moment the German occupiers returned to Rostov-on-Don, women were exposed to a particular, gendered threat. They were attacked indiscriminately on the street or in their homes throughout the duration of the occupation, forced to perform unwanted sexual acts. Women were also
{"title":"Sexual Violence under Occupation during World War II: Soviet Women's Experiences inside a German Military Brothel and Beyond","authors":"Maris Rowe-McCulloch","doi":"10.7560/jhs31101","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31101","url":null,"abstract":"O n C h r i s t m a s E v E 1942 , in the Russian city of Rostov-on-Don, a soldiers’ brothel opened its doors for business.1 Set up and run by the occupying German army (the Wehrmacht), this establishment provided military men a place to pay for a brief sexual encounter with a local woman. These women were Soviet civilians who had been living under German control since the summer of 1942, when the Wehrmacht occupied Southern Russia on its way to the oil fields of the Caucasus and the city of Stalingrad. Prior to this, Rostov residents had also lived through a brief, failed German occupation, which lasted less than ten days in late November 1941. The second, more substantial occupation of the city began in late July 1942 and continued until early February 1943. From the moment the German occupiers returned to Rostov-on-Don, women were exposed to a particular, gendered threat. They were attacked indiscriminately on the street or in their homes throughout the duration of the occupation, forced to perform unwanted sexual acts. Women were also","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"31 1","pages":"1 - 27"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42936643","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
O n 31 O c t O b e r 1989 , members of the Housing Committee of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power/New York (ACT UP/NY), dressed as witches and ghouls, led a Halloween-themed protest in front of the Trump Tower. In addition to candy and condoms, the protesters offered a message for the City of New York: Do not give Donald Trump a forty-year tax abatement to develop the Grand Hyatt while thousands of people with HIV/AIDS sleep on the streets. The protesters explained that a previous tax abatement to build the Trump Tower cost the city $6,208,773—money that could have rehabilitated approximately 1,200 city-owned apartments (fig. 1). “Instead,” a flyer explained, “the apartments remain vacant. And sick people [with AIDS] remain on the streets.” At the time, the city offered a mere forty-four beds through an institution called Bailey House for “people who [were] too sick for the shelters but too healthy for a hospital.” The small fortune the city kicked back to Trump, AIDS activists insisted, should be, in their words, going to “housing for people with AIDS, not condos for people with maids.”1 In that year alone, ACT UP and the Partnership for the Homeless estimated, there were more than ten thousand people with HIV/AIDS who were unhoused in New York City.2 Scholarship on the AIDS epidemic routinely focuses on very public grassroots activism—like that in front of the Trump Tower—and often frames it in opposition to the state. The battle for housing rights and care that erupted in 1980s New York City, however, defies these assumptions. The Halloween protest of 1989 garnered headlines for a day, but AIDS
{"title":"\"We Lived as Do Spouses\": AIDS, Neoliberalism, and Family-Based Apartment Succession Rights in 1980s New York City","authors":"René Esparza","doi":"10.7560/jhs31103","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31103","url":null,"abstract":"O n 31 O c t O b e r 1989 , members of the Housing Committee of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power/New York (ACT UP/NY), dressed as witches and ghouls, led a Halloween-themed protest in front of the Trump Tower. In addition to candy and condoms, the protesters offered a message for the City of New York: Do not give Donald Trump a forty-year tax abatement to develop the Grand Hyatt while thousands of people with HIV/AIDS sleep on the streets. The protesters explained that a previous tax abatement to build the Trump Tower cost the city $6,208,773—money that could have rehabilitated approximately 1,200 city-owned apartments (fig. 1). “Instead,” a flyer explained, “the apartments remain vacant. And sick people [with AIDS] remain on the streets.” At the time, the city offered a mere forty-four beds through an institution called Bailey House for “people who [were] too sick for the shelters but too healthy for a hospital.” The small fortune the city kicked back to Trump, AIDS activists insisted, should be, in their words, going to “housing for people with AIDS, not condos for people with maids.”1 In that year alone, ACT UP and the Partnership for the Homeless estimated, there were more than ten thousand people with HIV/AIDS who were unhoused in New York City.2 Scholarship on the AIDS epidemic routinely focuses on very public grassroots activism—like that in front of the Trump Tower—and often frames it in opposition to the state. The battle for housing rights and care that erupted in 1980s New York City, however, defies these assumptions. The Halloween protest of 1989 garnered headlines for a day, but AIDS","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"31 1","pages":"59 - 88"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45404853","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"The Price of the Ride in New York City: Sex, Taxis, and Entrepreneurial Resilience in the Dry Season of 1919","authors":"Austin Gallas","doi":"10.7560/jhs31104","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31104","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"31 1","pages":"114 - 89"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48922976","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
H a v e l o c k e l l i s ’ s S e x u a l I n v e r S I o n , published for the first time in German in 1896 and later reissued in English in 1897, 1901, and 1915, was one of the most renowned and cited monographic discussions on sexuality of its time.1 The volume’s focus on homosexuality in general and female homoeroticism in particular captured the attention of the scientific and lay public in equal measure.2 Despite the fact that Ellis was accused of basing his analysis of lesbianism on very few actual cases—presented as part of the section on female sexual inversion—what is certain is that in successive editions of the work, Ellis added extensively to his repertoire. In this sense, he followed the tradition of German authors such as Krafft-Ebing who constantly augmented the number of case studies on a range of subjects germane to their books. In the 1901 English edition, Ellis described,
{"title":"\"Inseparables\": Tobacco Workers in Seville and Female Homoeroticism at the End of the Nineteenth Century","authors":"Francisco Vázquez García, R. Cleminson","doi":"10.7560/jhs31102","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs31102","url":null,"abstract":"H a v e l o c k e l l i s ’ s S e x u a l I n v e r S I o n , published for the first time in German in 1896 and later reissued in English in 1897, 1901, and 1915, was one of the most renowned and cited monographic discussions on sexuality of its time.1 The volume’s focus on homosexuality in general and female homoeroticism in particular captured the attention of the scientific and lay public in equal measure.2 Despite the fact that Ellis was accused of basing his analysis of lesbianism on very few actual cases—presented as part of the section on female sexual inversion—what is certain is that in successive editions of the work, Ellis added extensively to his repertoire. In this sense, he followed the tradition of German authors such as Krafft-Ebing who constantly augmented the number of case studies on a range of subjects germane to their books. In the 1901 English edition, Ellis described,","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"31 1","pages":"28 - 58"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2022-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48717528","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
L e x L a w s o n ’ s m o t h e r wa s w o r r i e d about what other people thought about her child growing up in Berea, Kentucky, in the 1980s. Lex, who is genderqueer, recalls their mother encouraging them to publicly conform to the feminine gender norms that aligned with Lawson’s assigned sex at birth to avoid discrimination from their community when Lex was a teen. Lawson resisted, continuing to wear the clothes that fit their punk aesthetic and their gender identity, eventually moving to Louisville and then to California, which, they note, their mother appreciated because “the grapevine is a lot further” from Louisville or California to Berea, minimizing the amount of information about Lawson that could get back to Berea.1 While Lawson’s story is not an uncommon example of queer teenage rebellion, it demonstrates how they remember negotiating the boundaries of visibility while keeping their sexuality and gender identity private to ensure their personal well-being and to comply with their mother’s desire to fit into their small town. Though everyone—straight or otherwise— must find a balance of privacy and visibility in their lives as Lawson did, that balance has been especially crucial for queer people, whose lives and livelihoods could (and still can) be endangered by unwanted disclosure of private information. In this article, I examine how some queer people and organizations in Kentucky balanced the desire to publicly share their sexuality or gender
L e x L a w s o n的m o t h e r wa s w o r i e d讲述了其他人对她20世纪80年代在肯塔基州贝利亚长大的孩子的看法。Lex是一名性别酷儿，她回忆说，当Lex十几岁时，他们的母亲鼓励他们公开遵守与Lawson出生时指定的性别一致的女性性别规范，以避免受到社区的歧视。劳森拒绝了，继续穿着符合他们朋克审美和性别认同的衣服，最终搬到了路易斯维尔，然后搬到了加利福尼亚，他们指出，他们的母亲很欣赏这一点，因为从路易斯维尔或加利福尼亚到贝雷亚，“小道消息要远得多”，尽量减少可能回到贝利亚的关于劳森的信息量。1虽然劳森的故事是青少年同性恋反叛的一个常见例子，它展示了他们是如何记得在协商可见性的边界的同时，将自己的性取向和性别认同保密，以确保自己的个人幸福，并满足母亲融入小镇的愿望。尽管每个人——无论是异性恋还是异性恋——都必须像劳森那样在生活中找到隐私和可见性的平衡，但这种平衡对同性恋者来说尤其重要，他们的生活和生计可能（现在仍然可能）因不必要的私人信息泄露而受到威胁。在这篇文章中，我研究了肯塔基州的一些酷儿和组织是如何平衡公开分享自己性取向或性别的愿望的
{"title":"\"Be Nice to My Shadow\": Queer Negotiation of Privacy and Visibility in Kentucky","authors":"C. Parks","doi":"10.7560/jhs30302","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs30302","url":null,"abstract":"L e x L a w s o n ’ s m o t h e r wa s w o r r i e d about what other people thought about her child growing up in Berea, Kentucky, in the 1980s. Lex, who is genderqueer, recalls their mother encouraging them to publicly conform to the feminine gender norms that aligned with Lawson’s assigned sex at birth to avoid discrimination from their community when Lex was a teen. Lawson resisted, continuing to wear the clothes that fit their punk aesthetic and their gender identity, eventually moving to Louisville and then to California, which, they note, their mother appreciated because “the grapevine is a lot further” from Louisville or California to Berea, minimizing the amount of information about Lawson that could get back to Berea.1 While Lawson’s story is not an uncommon example of queer teenage rebellion, it demonstrates how they remember negotiating the boundaries of visibility while keeping their sexuality and gender identity private to ensure their personal well-being and to comply with their mother’s desire to fit into their small town. Though everyone—straight or otherwise— must find a balance of privacy and visibility in their lives as Lawson did, that balance has been especially crucial for queer people, whose lives and livelihoods could (and still can) be endangered by unwanted disclosure of private information. In this article, I examine how some queer people and organizations in Kentucky balanced the desire to publicly share their sexuality or gender","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"30 1","pages":"363 - 389"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"44948432","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
I n h I s a u t h o r I t a t I v e Psychopathia Sexualis (1886), the forensic psychiatrist Richard von Krafft-Ebing (1840–1902) stressed that the nosology in his book was a classification not of sexual acts but of diseases that could only be diagnosed by paying attention to “the whole personality” (Gesammtpersönlichkeit) of each patient.1 Similar statements became common at the end of the nineteenth century, when Krafft-Ebing and his contemporaries created a new conceptual space for organizing sex. “Sexuality,” as it came to be called in the second half of the nineteenth century, was defined as a feature of one’s identity—an internal attribute that could be visible through but never reducible to individual characteristics such as conduct, personal and family history, body shape, gestures, clothing, and fantasies or dreams. The focus was now on who one is rather than on what one does. For the most part, historians of sexuality have found this distinction between acts and identities to be methodologically useful. They have used it as a yardstick to separate sexuality from other types of sexual organization: where there is sexual identity, there is sexuality. Most famously and influentially, Michel Foucault contrasted the premodern sodomite, who was “nothing more than the juridical subject of ” forbidden acts, with the nineteenth-century homosexual, who “became a personage, a past, a case history, and a childhood, in addition to being a type of life, a life form, and a morphology, with an indiscreet anatomy and possibly a mysterious physiology.”2 Foucault’s passage has often been interpreted as claiming not only that homosexuality is a type of identity but also that, unlike the act of sodomy, it did not exist before the nineteenth century.3
《性精神病》（1886），法医精神病学家Richard von Krafft Ebing（1840–1902）强调，他的书中的疾病学不是对性行为的分类，而是对只有关注每个患者的“整个人格”（Gesammtpersönlichkeit）才能诊断的疾病的分类。1类似的说法在19世纪末变得很常见，克拉夫特·埃宾和他的同时代人创造了一个新的性组织概念空间。19世纪下半叶，人们称之为“性”，它被定义为一个人身份的一个特征——一种内在属性，可以通过行为、个人和家族史、体型、手势、服装以及幻想或梦境等个人特征来观察，但永远无法还原。现在的焦点是一个人是谁，而不是一个人做什么。在大多数情况下，性历史学家发现行为和身份之间的区别在方法上是有用的。他们将其作为将性行为与其他类型的性组织区分开来的标准：有性身份的地方就有性行为。最著名和最有影响力的是，米歇尔·福柯将前现代的鸡奸与19世纪的同性恋进行了对比，前者“只不过是”被禁止行为的司法主体，后者“除了是一种生活类型、一种生活形式和一种形态外，还成为了一个人物、一段过去、一段案件历史和一个童年，具有不谨慎的解剖结构，可能还有一种神秘的生理学。“2福柯的文章经常被解读为不仅声称同性恋是一种身份，而且与鸡奸行为不同，它在19世纪之前并不存在。3
{"title":"Sexual Identity at the Limits of German Liberalism: Law and Science in the Work of Karl Heinrich Ulrichs (1825–1895)","authors":"P. Singy","doi":"10.7560/jhs30303","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs30303","url":null,"abstract":"I n h I s a u t h o r I t a t I v e Psychopathia Sexualis (1886), the forensic psychiatrist Richard von Krafft-Ebing (1840–1902) stressed that the nosology in his book was a classification not of sexual acts but of diseases that could only be diagnosed by paying attention to “the whole personality” (Gesammtpersönlichkeit) of each patient.1 Similar statements became common at the end of the nineteenth century, when Krafft-Ebing and his contemporaries created a new conceptual space for organizing sex. “Sexuality,” as it came to be called in the second half of the nineteenth century, was defined as a feature of one’s identity—an internal attribute that could be visible through but never reducible to individual characteristics such as conduct, personal and family history, body shape, gestures, clothing, and fantasies or dreams. The focus was now on who one is rather than on what one does. For the most part, historians of sexuality have found this distinction between acts and identities to be methodologically useful. They have used it as a yardstick to separate sexuality from other types of sexual organization: where there is sexual identity, there is sexuality. Most famously and influentially, Michel Foucault contrasted the premodern sodomite, who was “nothing more than the juridical subject of ” forbidden acts, with the nineteenth-century homosexual, who “became a personage, a past, a case history, and a childhood, in addition to being a type of life, a life form, and a morphology, with an indiscreet anatomy and possibly a mysterious physiology.”2 Foucault’s passage has often been interpreted as claiming not only that homosexuality is a type of identity but also that, unlike the act of sodomy, it did not exist before the nineteenth century.3","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"30 1","pages":"390 - 410"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45672693","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
T h e y e a r 2 0 2 1 m a r k s T h e sesquicentenary of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, a work that, like its forerunner, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), has never gone out of print.1 While it would be difficult to overstate the importance of Carroll’s conceptualization of childhood to modern culture, discussions concerning the nature of his feelings toward Alice Liddell, his muse, and his fascination with female children and adolescents more broadly have lasted almost as long as the books themselves. This subject attracted critical attention as early as 1898, when Stewart Dodgson Collingwood dedicated the final two chapters of his eleven-chapter biography to “that beautiful side of [his uncle’s] character which afterwards was to be, next to his fame as an author, the one for which he was best known—his attitude towards children, and the strong attraction they had for him.” Reflecting on this attraction, Collingwood proposed that the “one comprehensive word wide enough to explain this tendency of his nature” would be “Love” and that it is only in light of this love “that we can properly understand him.”2 Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, literary critics, biographers, and historians of childhood, sexuality, and art have drawn on the tremendous range of primary source materials that constitute Carroll’s archive (including fiction, correspondence, diaries, photography, and sketches) to approach the vexed question of what it might mean to love a child in a period governed by different social and sexual codes from the present. The author’s enduring popularity means that this topic will continue to be studied against the backdrop of changing cultural discourses. Attitudes toward the sexual preferences of prominent men have shifted dramatically in recent years, with many formerly beloved figures scrutinized
刘易斯·卡罗尔（Lewis Carroll）的《透过镜子》（Through the Looking Glass）和《爱丽丝在那里发现了什么》（What Alice Found There）问世一百周年，这部作品与它的前身《爱丽丝梦游仙境》（Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland，1865）一样，从未绝版，关于他对缪斯女神爱丽丝·利德尔感情的本质，以及他对女性儿童和青少年的迷恋的讨论，持续的时间几乎与书籍本身一样长。早在1898年，斯图尔特·道奇森·科林伍德（Stewart Dodgson Collingwood。“反思这种吸引力，科林伍德提出，“一个足够广泛的词来解释他天性中的这种倾向”应该是“爱”，只有在这种爱的背景下，我们才能正确地理解他。”2在整个二十世纪和二十一世纪，文学评论家、传记作家和儿童、性、，和艺术利用卡罗尔档案中的大量原始材料（包括小说、信件、日记、摄影和素描）来解决一个棘手的问题，即在一个与现在不同的社会和性规范所统治的时代，爱一个孩子意味着什么。作者的持续受欢迎意味着这一主题将在不断变化的文化话语背景下继续被研究。近年来，人们对知名男性性偏好的态度发生了巨大变化，许多以前备受喜爱的人物都受到了仔细审视
{"title":"The Man Who Loved Children: Lewis Carroll Studies' Evidence Problem","authors":"Katherine Wakely-Mulroney","doi":"10.7560/jhs30301","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs30301","url":null,"abstract":"T h e y e a r 2 0 2 1 m a r k s T h e sesquicentenary of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, a work that, like its forerunner, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), has never gone out of print.1 While it would be difficult to overstate the importance of Carroll’s conceptualization of childhood to modern culture, discussions concerning the nature of his feelings toward Alice Liddell, his muse, and his fascination with female children and adolescents more broadly have lasted almost as long as the books themselves. This subject attracted critical attention as early as 1898, when Stewart Dodgson Collingwood dedicated the final two chapters of his eleven-chapter biography to “that beautiful side of [his uncle’s] character which afterwards was to be, next to his fame as an author, the one for which he was best known—his attitude towards children, and the strong attraction they had for him.” Reflecting on this attraction, Collingwood proposed that the “one comprehensive word wide enough to explain this tendency of his nature” would be “Love” and that it is only in light of this love “that we can properly understand him.”2 Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, literary critics, biographers, and historians of childhood, sexuality, and art have drawn on the tremendous range of primary source materials that constitute Carroll’s archive (including fiction, correspondence, diaries, photography, and sketches) to approach the vexed question of what it might mean to love a child in a period governed by different social and sexual codes from the present. The author’s enduring popularity means that this topic will continue to be studied against the backdrop of changing cultural discourses. Attitudes toward the sexual preferences of prominent men have shifted dramatically in recent years, with many formerly beloved figures scrutinized","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"30 1","pages":"335 - 362"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45805194","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"\"I Know One Day a Miracle Will Happen\": Bruno Balz and the Position of the Gay Artist in Nazi Germany","authors":"Jeffrey C. Blutinger","doi":"10.7560/jhs30304","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.7560/jhs30304","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":45704,"journal":{"name":"Journal of the History of Sexuality","volume":"30 1","pages":"411 - 434"},"PeriodicalIF":0.6,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45992156","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：