She first loves her teacher, Grace, but shys from the physical expression of this love. She ends up in a menage with two dissolute prostitutes and a marijuana induced death (speeding in her "white bird" Cadillac).

At least three of these four adolescents might have lived decent constructive lives had they been allowed to face up to their homosexuality. Barring the natural exaggeration for dramatic effect, these stories could, sadly enough, be yesterday's headline.

IN THE DEPARTMENT of overlooked headlines, here are two worth searching out.

Attention was recently called to John Selby's Madame, Dodd, Mead, 1961. However, early in 1955, Rinehart published John Selby's The Man Who Never Changed. It is the portrait of a genius, a rather cold one, but an interesting character study.

Denis Sandzen is a musical prodigy, a composer of renown at an early age. He is almost without emotion except for his career, although he has had sexual experiences with both sexes.

The secondary theme of the novel is the love felt for him by several women and by his dearest friend, Terry. Terence (Terry) Metoyer is presented with the same wholehearted approval as the homosexuals in Madame. He is 10years older than Denis when they meet and he loves him-rather hopelessly but faithfully-all of his life. He acts as buffer against the world, guide, friend and tormentornever actually his lover despite sexually tense interludes.

The importance of the novel is twofold-Terry is a real person, a man first, a homosexual second. He is neither eulogized nor damned. Secondly it believably presents a relationship which is at best difficult; an enduring friendship where the sexual tension does not dim the love and respect. Denis, who can love no one, comes nearest to peace with Terry.

In this age of the mixed blessings of the paperback originals it is easy to forget that once upon a time beautiful and sensitive lesbian novels were written.

Surplus by Sylvia Stevenson, Appleton, 1924, is one of the loveliest of the early major studies.

Sally Wraith is a typical English heroine-the leggy healthy type. At 26 she meets and falls in love with Averill, who almost returns the affection. They live together, happily, until Averill decides her life can never be complete without children. She leaves Sally and

marries.

After a serious breakdown, Sally begins to build her life again, almost marrying a man she likes and respects but does not love. A fleeting glimpse of Averill and she realizes that for her love was Averill and nothing else will do. She deliberately chooses to live her life out alone.

Perhaps this is a sad novel, but the ending is right and good and the reader is left feeling clean, if tearful.

16

mattachine REVIEW

How Unlucky Is

13 ?

To Members, Subscribers and Friends of the Mattachine Society Everywhere:

A Frank Statement of Fact

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Did you ever hear of a "business" operation performing a service worth at least $50,000 per year operating on an income of about $16,000 per year ...and further did you ever hear of such an operation reaching its 13th birthday?

Something was out of step, you might say. Or you might go a little further and tack on an appropriate cliche-"Out of Luck." O, bitter 13!

Today as Mattachine Society rounds its 13th anniversary and as Mattachine REVIEW finds itself in the middle of its 9th year of publication, some formidable obstacles to continued operation stare them in the face. These obstacles are the stark reality of a paralysis which threatens to silence the action, the service and the voice of America's foremost manifestation of a call for reason and sanity in matters of private human behavior. The fact is that Mattachine is more seriously faced with immediate curtailment of its operation than at any time in its brief history. And oddly enough, its existence is threatened not by forces of reaction against what it is trying to accomplish. The threat comes from lack of support by the very people most concerned-those whom it is seeking to help, and those who seek help from it. Whatever it is-fear, selfishness or apathy, or a combination of these-Mattachine is sinking because people who might need it couldn't care less.

Or could they?