Women In The Shadow
The classic 1950s love story from the Queen of Lesbian Pulp Fiction, and author of Odd Girl Out, I Am a Woman, Women in the Shadows, Journey to a Woman and Beebo BrinkerA guarded look across the room was all she dared—and this was Greenwich Village where almost anything goes…Following on from classic novels Odd Girl Out and I am a Woman, Women in the Shadows picks up with Beebo’s relationship with Laura, as both women become caught in the cultural tumult (gay bar raids, heavy drinking, gay rights advocacy) that anticipates by ten years the Stonewall Rebellion of 1969. New introduction explains the book’s evolution, including the role Bannon’s divorce played in shaping the lesbian protagonist’s outrage.New Introduction by Ann Bannon“Originally published in 1959, Women in the Shadows broke from the formula of 1950s lesbian pulp fiction. The women in this novel were tied to convention, but they were still ahead of their time. In its proper historical context, Women in the Shadows is a masterpiece” Hélène CixousPraise for Ann Bannon“Bannon’s books grab you and don’t let go” Village Voice“When I was young, Bannon’s books let me imagine myself into her New York City neighborhoods of short-haired, dark-eyed butch women and stubborn, tight-lipped secretaries with hearts ready to be broken. Her books come close to the kind of books that had made me feel fatalistic and damned in my youth, but somehow she just managed to sustain a sense of hope. And of course, there was her romantic portrait of the kind of butch woman I idealized. I would have dated Beebo, no question” Dorothy Allison“Called trash by the literary world and pornography by the commercial world, Ann Bannon’s books were hidden away on drugstore pulp racks. To pick out the book, carry it to the counter and face the other shoppers and the cashier was tantamount to coming out. But all across the country, lesbians were doing it” Joan Nestle“Little did Bannon know that her stories would become legends, inspiring countless fledgling dykes to flock to the Village, dog-eared copies of her books in hand, to find their own Beebos and Lauras and others who shared the love they dared not name” San Francisco Bay Guardian“Ann Bannon is a pioneer of dyke drama” On Our Backs“Shameless tales of wanton dyke lust are finally unveiled!” Out magazine
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Table of Contents
JUNE 8: God help me. God help me to stand it. Today was our second anniversary. If I have to go on living with her Iâll go crazy. But if I leave herâ? Iâm afraid to think what will happen. Sometimes sheâs not rational. But what can I do? Where can I turn?
That damn party was awful. Anniversaries are supposed to be happy affairs, but this one was more like a wake. Everybody got drunk and sang songs, but there was always that corpse there in the middle of the room ⦠the corpse of that romance. Jack got terribly drunk, as usual. Thereâs another one. If he doesnât crack up it wonât be because he hasnât tried. Whatâs wrong with us all, anyway? Whatâs the use of living when things are like this all the time?
Laura shut her diary with a sudden furtive gesture, her pen still poised, and strained her ears at a sound. She thought she heard the front door open. It would be Beebo coming back. But it was only the dachshund, Nix, scratching himself on a stool in the kitchen. Laura sighed in relief and turned back to the diary. She ordinarily kept it locked in a little steel strongbox on the closet floor, and she wrote in it only when she was alone, in the evenings before Beebo got home from work.
Beebo had never read itâor seen it, in fact. It was Lauraâs own, Lauraâs aches and pains verbalized, Lauraâs heart dissected and wept over, in washable blue ink. If Beebo ever saw it she would tear it up in a frenzy. She would make Laura swallow it, because it did not say very nice things about Beebo. And Beebo always did things in a big way, the good along with the bad.
Laura opened the notebook once more and wrote a last brief entry: Jack asked me to marry him again ⦠but I could never marry a man, not even him. Never.
Then she closed it quickly and took it back to the closet and locked it in the strongbox. She sat down from sheer inertia on the closet floor and picked up a shoe. It was one of her pumps, rather long and narrowâtoo large to be really fashionable. But it had the proper shape and the newest styled heel. Beebo liked to see her smartly dressed. She cared more about that than Laura did herself. Laura had worn these shoes to the unfortunate anniversary party two nights before.
Beebo was still hungover from that long night of dreary festivity. Jack was always hungover, so he didnât count. As for Laura, she had learned from Beebo to drink too much herself, and she was learning at the same time how it feels the next day. Bad. Plain bad.
It had been a strange night, with moments of wild hilarity and stretches of gloom when everybody drank as if they made their living at it. Laura remembered Jack arriving ahead of everybody else with a couple of bottles under his arm. âThought Iâd better bring my own,â he explained.
âJack, youâre not going to drink two fifths all by yourself!â Laura had exclaimed. She always took things at face value at first, a little too seriously.
âIâm going to try, Mother,â he said, laughing, his eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses sparkling cynically at her.
Beebo had been in a sweat of preparation all day, and the apartment ended up looking almost new. A fever seemed to have gotten hold of her. This had to be a big party, a good party, a loud, drunk, and very gay party. Because this party was going to prove that Beebo and Laura had lived together for two whole years, and in Greenwich Village that is a pretty good record.
Friends were invited, to admire and congratulate. Oh, to get drunk and live it up a little too, on Beebo and Laura. But mostly to stand witness to the fact that the girls had been together two whole years. Or rather, Beebo had hung on to Laura for two whole years.
Maybe thatâs a hard way to say it. Maybe it isnât fair. After all, Laura stuck with Beebo, too. But Laura stuck because she didnât have the courage to let go, because her life was empty and without a purpose, and living with somebody and lovingâor pretending to loveâseemed to bring some sanity into her world. But for a long time she had begun to squirm and struggle under Beeboâs jealous scrutiny.
Laura let Beebo make most of the arrangements for the party. She felt almost no enthusiasm for it. The whole thing had been Beeboâs idea in the first place. Laura felt almost as outside of it as a late-arriving guest. She ran a few errands, but it was Beebo who planned and organized, who put up streamers and cleaned the apartment, who called everybody, who picked up the liquor and the ice cubes, and even made hors dâoeuvres.
She treated Laura with unwonted gentleness and attention all day. She wanted her in a good mood for the party. They had quarreled so much and so bitterly lately that they were both a little sick over it. Beebo wanted to have a good day behind them, a day full of good will and even tenderness.
