second-hand outlets and is easily worth many times its cover price of 35¢. Paul Curry, a business administration instructor, head of a male dormitory and faculty advisor, is a homosexual. His friend, Ted Gaines, is a physical education instructor at the same university. Paul is pursued by a female teacher, and the two men discuss this situation and many other situations relative to the dangerous position of being homosexuals and teachers. They are,. incidentally, friends only and not lovers. Paul's adventures will be familiar to many readers: the pass at the man who seemed to be inviting it but wasn't; the overheard confession of guilt; all the little and momentary agonies of the imagination. The overall handling is extraordinarily sympathetic.

The virtually unknown novel, THE SEEKER AND THE SOUGHT, by Marie Baumer, Scribner's, 1949, is wholly permeated with male homosexual allusions. The hero feels he may be homosexual, and indeed, his reactions to a young desirable boy make the reader feel he has reason to believe this. It is a fascinating odyssey of one man. Since nothing is explicit, except for one scene, this must be considered a minor title.

A.J. Cronin's beautifully written, THE SPANISH GARDNER, Little, Brown, 1950, Bantam, 1951, et al, tells the often-told story of an older man, not too actively alive, and his fascination with a young, very virile boy. The difference in this book (from the many other tellings of the same tale) is mainly the quality of the writing--it approaches poetry in some passages and sets the trite story in a special light.

Criticism of theater novels, "literary set" novels and Hollywood novels tends to be barbed and bitchy. Possibly because the critics are talking about things too close to home. Many of these novels contain buried but excellent homosexual portraits and themes, a fact apparently deliberately ignored by many reviewers. Hugh Wheeler's, THE CRIPPLED MUSE, Rinehart, 1952, contains humor, pathos, satire, a charming story about an art colony and some generally delightful camping around as well. It is primarily referred to as a Lesbian novel but the male homosexual aspects are major enough to make this a must for collectors. THE SIEGE OF INNOCENCE, by Eugene MacCown, Doubleday, 1950, should be considered among the most substantial

mattachine REVIEW

of all titles. Young Bruce Andrews inherits some money enabling him to go to Paris and study painting. He studies all right and he learns a lot but not on an easel. The title is a literal recipe take one innocent and lovely boy and send him out among a charming group of men and women with only one goal in life: to go to bed with him. Add to this delightful characterization, witty and campy asides, a little Compton Mackenzie satire and beautiful scenery. It adds up to a delightful book and includes that one irresistable extra: a happy homosexual marriage.

QUICKSILVER, by Fitzroy Davie, Harcourt, Brace, 1942, remains the last of the theatre novels to really cover the homosexual aspects of theatre life in a believable manner. The book suffers from, tedious overwriting, but it's worth a word-for-word examination. Every kind of possible relationship is discussed and in this the author is most talented and obviously knowledgeable.

Last March (1963) in an article on male homosexual short stories I neglected to include two very good titles, curiously really, since they are both superior in writing and major in content. Both stories are available in one volume, CROSS SECTION, 1945, edited by Edwin Seaver, L. B. Fischer, 1945, one of the few volumes which appeared in this magnificent series of "new" writing. As seems inevitable with quality anthologies, the series died for lack of an audience. The first story, "The Prisoners," by C. Hall Thompson, is set in a Japanese prison camp and is a skillfull blend of many kinds of prejudice: racial, class, and sexual. Mason tells the story of Miguel, a strong, squat, thick-set, curlyheaded Mexican who befriends the frightened Langlos, an olive-skinned, melting-eyed and beautiful boy. The Japanese major has the boy, Langlos, stripped for his perusal. When Miguel attempts to defend him, he is badly wounded and the major takes the boy away while Miguel watches, pinned to a post by a bayonet through his arm. The events that follow take a surprising turn and the reader is left wondering" whether Miguel's subsequent actions stem from love and jealousy or outrage. A shocker.

"Show Me The Way to Go Home," by Donald Vining, the next story in the book, is very special. All about a handsome young boy in Navy blues who likes to roll queers --