Diving into memories, prostitutes and profiteers, gangland jeopardy, a prize, a pansy, a wide Homburg hat and a long blue coat

I made a welcome (and long overdue) return visit to "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari last night, and I'm so pleased I did - a truly top-class evening of thought-provoking literary gems [right at the start of the London Literature Festival, appropriately], and Sophie Ellis Bexter's mum presenting the prestigious prize pictured above, to boot!



Although the room (our usual 5th floor function suite, rather than the cavernous and character-free Purcell Room where previous Polari First Book Prize ceremonies have been held) was packed out, I was surprised that apart from or hostess-with-the-mostest Paul Burston, some of our readers, plus stalwarts Suzi Feay (at whose table I sat), VG Lee, Anny Knight and sexy Lexi Gregory, I hardly recognised anyone. It could be "the curse of Friday" I suppose; so many people have other plans that probably don't involve gay literature...

...but for those of us who love writing, it was a joy.



Opening the show - admittedly in a rather dark way - was the surprisingly cute Roelof Bakker [I always find Dutch men sexy], who is a regular contributor to the Unthology series of collated short stories, now on volume #9. The review on The Short Story website described it thus:

The last short story in the anthology, Yellow by Roelof Bakker is a touching work exploring loss... the story follows the narrator as he comes to terms with the death of his partner, Marek [who drowned]. Loss is a popular subject, but Bakker offers precise prose that avoids cliché, giving us original lines that bubble up beautifully through the paragraphs and are full of emotive veracity: ‘I’m only happy when I swim. Bits of Marek live on in the water, traces of his DNA remain wherever he’s done the butterfly, the breast-stroke. When I dive in, I delve into the past, back into his arms. Memories bob to the surface.’

Truly beautiful...



An equally tragic theme was to follow - as feminist writer and journalist Julie Bindel (thankfully injecting some of her wry humour into an otherwise alarming subject) gave us an insight into her research findings behind her new book The Pimping of Prostitution: Abolishing the Sex Work Myth. From a synopsis she wrote for The Spectator:

We’ve become accustomed to thinking of prostitution as a legitimate way of earning a living, even ‘empowering’ for women. We call it ‘sex work’ and look away. We should not.

For the last three years I’ve been investigating prostitution worldwide to test the conventional wisdom of it being a career choice, as valid as any other. I conducted 250 interviews in 40 countries, interviewed 50 survivors of the sex trade, and almost all of them told me the same story: don’t believe the ‘happy hooker’ myth you see on TV. In almost every case it’s actually slavery. The women who work as prostitutes are in hock and in trouble. They’re in need of rescue just as much as any of the more fashionable victims of modern slavery.

One of the most disturbing discoveries I made was that the loudest voices calling for legalisation and normalisation of prostitution are the people who profit from it: pimps, punters and brothel owners. They have succeeded in speaking for the women under their control. The people who know the real story about the sex trade have been gagged by a powerful lobby of deluded ‘liberal’ ideologues and sex-trade profiteers.

She went on to emphasise how those very same "liberal" voices who defend prostitution as a "life choice" - an oppressed form of sexuality which deserves "freedom" from legal restrictions, akin to the struggle for LGBT equality - are actually further repressing and endangering the lives of the very people they appear to represent. Powerful stuff.



Completing our "triumvirate of terror", the erudite Veronica "V.A" Fearon took to the stage with her customary swagger and her disarming smile, to read from her newest novel featuring the "fearless" gangs negotiator Dani, The Thirsty Stranger. She opened with a suitably "in-character" extract in which our "anti-hero" attempts to seduce an equally sassy woman, a photographer who has no time for her smooth-talking chat-up lines. In the second we were given an insight into a side of Dani that might be less expected; as the maelstrom of dangerous situations she has got herself into bring her an unfamiliar sensation: fear.

As ever, Veronica's work is completely engrossing, and I was very glad to be able to take a breath when "half-time" arrived. After a nip to the bar and a fag, it was time for part two - ding ding!



Without further ado, it was time for our Suzi to take the stage to introduce the Sixth Annual Polari First Book Prize. She read a synopsis of each of the titles on this year’s shortlist "which brings together three male and three female writers hailing from Kuwait to Cardiff, whose eclectic body of work offers a range of perspectives on the LGBT experience":

• Expecting – Chitra Ramaswamy (Saraband)
• Guapa – Saleem Haddad (Europa Editions UK)
• We Go Around In The Night And Are Consumed By Fire - Jules Grant (Myriad)
• Straight Jacket - Matthew Todd (Bantam)
• The Vegetarian Tigers of Paradise – Crystal Jeans (Honno)
• Jerusalem Ablaze – Orlando Ortega-Medina (Cloud Lodge)

Then she handed over to the adorable Miss Janet Ellis to announce the prize winner. After some encouraging and apposite words of support and encouragement for everyone who took part she opened the envelope and welcomed the rather buff Saleem Haddad to accept the prize.



He looked thrilled!



Our next reader Paul Harfleet simply exudes charm. The pioneering campaigner [he was one of the keynote speakers at 2010's "Say No To Hate" rally that I attended] behind The Pansy Project - which encourages victims of homophobia to plant a pansy at the site of their abuse, photos of which he collates along with a description of the incident on the website - he has latterly turned his estimable talents to education, by way of a semi-autobiographical (and beautifully illustrated by the author) children's book Pansy Boy. And here is a video introduction to it (which, last night, he narrated for us):

Paul Harfleet - Pansy Boy

Lovely.



And finally, it was time for our "star turn", Diana Souhami - the masterful researcher and biographer of many a famous lesbian, and dryly witty reader - to entertain us with a faboo audio-visual overview of the life, loves and work of the artist Gluck ["Gluck: no prefix, suffix or quotes."], who was the subject of Ms Souhami's earliest published work, and who was celebrated most recently in a retrospective exhibition at The Fine Arts Society during LGBT History Month in February 2017 (with another exhibition to come this autumn in Brighton). Here is a little snippet:

Throughout her adult life she dressed in men’s clothes, pulled the wine corks and held the door for true ladies to pass first. An acquaintance seeing her dining alone remarked that she looked like "The Ninth Earl", a description that she liked. She had a last for her shoes at John Lobb’s the Royal bootmakers, got her shirts from Jermyn Street, had her hair cut at Truefitt gentlemen’s hairdressers in Old Bond Street and blew her nose on large linen handkerchiefs monogrammed with a G. In the early decades of the twentieth century, when men alone wore the trousers, her appearance made heads turn. Her father, a conservative and conventional man was utterly dismayed by her ‘outré clobber’, her mother referred to a ‘kink in the brain’ which she hoped would pass, and both were uneasy at going to the theatre in 1918 with Gluck wearing a wide Homburg hat and long blue coat, her hair cut short and a dagger hanging at her belt.

She did several self-portraits, all of them mannish. There was a jaunty and defiant one in beret and braces – stolen in 1981 – and another, now in the National Portrait Gallery, which shows her as arrogant and disdainful. She painted it when suffering acutely from the tribulations of love. A couple of others she destroyed when depressed about her life.

She dressed as she did not simply to make her sexual orientation public, though that of course she achieved. By her appearance she set herself apart from society, alone with what she called the ‘ghost’ of her artistic ambition. And at a stroke she distanced herself from her family’s expectations, which were that she should be educated and cultured but pledged to hearth and home. They would have liked her to marry well, which meant a man from a similar Jewish background to hers – preferably one of her cousins – and to live, as wife and mother, a normal happy life. By her ‘outré clobber’ Gluck said no to all that; for who in his right mind would court a woman in a man’s suit? Her rebelliousness cut her father to the quick and he thought it a pose. But however provocative her behaviour there was no way he would cease to provide for her, his concept of family loyalty and obligation was too strong.

Courtesy of her private income she lived in style with staff – a housekeeper, cook and maids – to look after her. She always kept a studio in Cornwall. In the 1920s and 30s she lived in Bolton House, a large Georgian house in Hampstead village. After the war she settled in the Chantry House Steyning with Edith Shackleton Heald, journalist, essayist and lover of the poet W.B.Yeats in his twilight years. Both residences had elegantly designed detached studios...

...Mercurial, maddening, conspicuous and rebellious, she inspired great love and profound dislike. Perhaps what she most feared was indifference – the coldest death. Her dedication to work was total, even through her fallow years. Her severance from gender, family and religion, her resistance to influence from any particular artist or school of painting, her refusal to exhibit her work except in ‘one-man’ shows were all ways of protecting her artistic integrity. She desired to earn her death through the quality of her work: "I do want to reach that haven having a prize in my hand… Something of the trust that was reposed in me when I was sent out…" In reaching her destination with her paintings as her prize she took a circuitous path – unmapped, thorny and entirely her own.

Gluck's romantic entanglements were many and varied, including Romaine Brooks, society florist Constance Spry, and "the love of her life" the American socialite Nesta Obermer, with whom she appeared in her most famous portrait in the Art Deco era, Medallion (which she referred to as the "YouWe" picture):



Utterly, absolutely brilliant.



Thus, with the resounding applause for our assembled readers ringing in our ears, it was sadly the end of another great evening.

Next month's outing (on Friday 24th November, and part of the "Being a Man" festival season) will be the official Tenth Birthday(!) celebration of Polari, and promises to be another corker - with Jonathan Harvey, Topher Campbell, J Fergus Evans, Alexis Gregory and Carey Wood all announced. I can't wait!

I love Polari.

A Gothic world, a gangland lesbian, the Filth Peddler, a Georgian feminist and 'that piece of shit'

It was strange to be in such a minority last night (venturing out on my own without the usual "gang"), as I was among only a handful of other men (the only other I recognised was Chris Chalmers) in the Weston Pavilion atop the Royal Festival Hall - by far the majority of the packed house were female (including stalwarts Val, Jayne, Anny and chums, and Anya Nyx and several others of the "literati"). It was, of course, Polari's own evening to honour female voices as part of the Women of the World festival. Mr Paul Burston, opening proceedings at "London's peerless gay literary salon", said: "mine will be the only male voice you'll hear from the stage tonight!"



And so it was as our first reader, the (very young) radio and music journalist and self-professed sci fi and fantasy nerd Sophie Sparham took to the stage. Her début published novel is Snow in Hell, and is blurb reads thus:

There's something wrong with our world and this time it's no fault of human beings. After years of war, peace has fallen over the earth, due to a mysterious voice claiming to be humanity's god. However, despite this apparent revelation, not everything is as straightforward as it seems. Prepare to enter a Gothic world as scientists Margot Grant and Jade Wilde are confronted with hooded deceivers, obnoxious vampires and necromancers.

It's a very bizarre concept - the "heroes" of the story being killers-for-hire in a dystopian world of monstrous creatures, and all... As was the piece she read from her new work-in-progress, all about the sinister personification of "Time itself" and his solicitation of the pair's services to rid him of a troublesome sibling...



Bringing things right down to earth with an almighty crash, VA (Veronica) Fearon could not be more different. On her last appearance at Polari in May 2014 she introduced us to the tough-as-nails "street gangs negotiator" Dani, her "band of soldiers" and her temptress girlfriend Susanna. Now - speaking in first person all of the parts - 'VA' brought to life the various other characters in her book The Girl with the Treasure Chest, each having their own opinions on the tempestuous and risky relationship between the two women: Dani's childhood Jewish neighbour, her henchman Sonny and the sulky sister of Susannah. Beautifully portrayed, all of them - I and the rest of the audience loved it!



Ms Jacquie Lawrence, up next, has had a long career as a television producer, writer, director and commissioning editor; among her notable successes were Channel 4's Oscar nominated documentary The Celluloid Closet and Rikki Beadle-Blair's drama series Metrosexuality. She has the proud accolade of being called "The Filth Peddler Of Channel 4" by the Daily Mail! Of her new novel, she said:

“Different for Girls originated as an idea for a television drama series about a group of women whose lives and loves were different. It was a project that I put on hold, whilst looking after my two pre-school age daughters. When my youngest started nursery, I took the original concept of these six single women, whose love lives were entangled, and thought about how they would be living their lives seven years later. During this seven-year hiatus, changes in family law, fertility treatment and gay marriage has given an even different context to these different girls so I created relationships for them and, in some cases, families."

In fact - as she confided to us - the proposed TV series hit an insurmountable obstacle when, before it could enter production, a rather more successful series The L-Word arrived on the scene. So "the lesbians in the desk drawer" lay forgotten until Jacquie got around to producing the book. Here's the prologue to Different for Girls, read by lesbian songstress Heather Peace:

Jacquie Lawrence - Different For Girls

Fabulous stuff - and thus, part one of our evening came to a close. Time for ablutions and a top-up.



When former Blue Peter presenter Miss Janet Ellis [mother of the rather more internationally-famous Sophie Ellis-Bextor] - who opened the second half - was last at Polari in 2014, hers was an early draft of a novel. Now she is extremely proud indeed that The Butcher's Hook is finally published, and has received some favourable reviews. With very good reason! From the passage she read - an extremely sad one about the bereavement of a young girl in 18th century England, on the death of her baby brother to a fever - Miss Ellis' writing is excellent, and the story is intriguing. Apparently, the girl (Anne Jacob) learns to fight her grief, her loveless and ultra-traditional parents, society's norms and all that goes with them, in order to strike out for a life of her own - but for the rest of the story, I guess we'll have to buy the book:

Janet Ellis - The Butcher's Hook

Our headliner Miss Mari Hannah - winner of the Polari First Book Prize in 2013 - is an accomplished writer, specialising in gritty crime dramas; her series of stories featuring the extraordinary Kate Daniels is soon to hit our TV screens courtesy of Stephen Fry and Gina Carter's Sprout production house. But it was from her newest tale The Silent Room, which features instead a male protagonist, that she read a passage. Its blurb reads:

A security van sets off for Durham prison, a disgraced Special Branch officer in the back. It never arrives. On route it is hijacked by armed men, the prisoner sprung. Suspended from duty on suspicion of aiding and abetting the audacious escape of his former boss, Detective Sergeant Matthew Ryan is locked out of the investigation. With a manhunt underway, Ryan is warned to stay away. Keen to preserve his career and prove his innocence, he backs off. But when the official investigation falls apart, under surveillance and with his life in danger, he goes dark, enlisting others in his quest to discover the truth.

And here is part of the extract that Miss Hannah read, featuring the prison van hijack:

Realising they were trapped, Storey began to weep.

Irwin urged him to get a grip. They were going to be fine. He’d get them out of there. Somehow. The words had hardly left his lips when the gun was raised. Both security guards ducked as the windscreen shattered, a large gaping hole appearing at its centre where the shot had pierced the glass. No longer could either guard see their attackers, but they could hear the shooter’s instructions to climb down and open up the back, his voice muffled through a balaclava.

‘Do it!’ Storey yelled. ‘It’s not worth losing your life for peanuts – or that piece of shit in the back.’

Irwin told him to shut it. ‘Do I look stupid to you?’

‘No!’ Fenwick bawled. ‘They’ll kill us all.’

‘That’s helpful, pal,’ Irwin yelled back. ‘Got any bright ideas? Because, if you do, now’s the time to spit em out.’

The Special Branch officer’s opinion was valid – and probably correct – but then he wasn’t the one with the gun pointing at his head. His reply was lost in the general mayhem as the passenger door was yanked open. Whimpering in fear, crying for the mother he couldn’t stand the sight of, Storey was pulled from the vehicle, the butt end of a gun rammed into his stomach. He dropped to the ground like a stone. With the gun now in his back, he was told to lie face down.

Seconds later, Irwin joined him, thrown with such force, two of his fingers snapped as he hit the deck. Out the corner of his eye, he saw keys dangling from the Clio’s ignition. For a split second – no more – he wondered if he could make the car without getting shot in the back. He decided against. He couldn’t leave Storey to the mercy of these two. Besides, this was no time to play the hero.

Sucking in a breath, Irwin tried to lower his heart rate.

His chest felt like it might explode. If he were a gambler – which he wasn’t – he’d have taken bets that the men in the masks weren’t going to kill him. Why bother dragging him out of the van otherwise? Why not shoot him dead in his seat? Still, he decided not to test his theory...

...For a moment, nothing happened. Then Irwin heard the familiar squeak of the van’s back door as it was pulled open. With sound but no sight of what was going on, he counted the seconds, his nerve gone completely. No longer sure it wouldn’t end there on that wet and deserted stretch of road, he shut his eyes, wondered if he’d hear the shot that killed him.

Idling engines purred...

Rain hit the tarmac...

Storey vomited.

Flinching as a pair of heavy-duty boots arrived by his side, Irwin exhaled as they moved away again, his stomach heaving in relief. A door slammed, then another and another. Expensive. The Audi. As it took off at speed, he lifted his head. His prisoner was gone.

Utterly engrossing.

And so, with rousing applause for the assembled readers, that was it for another brilliant evening.



Cheers!

Next month (11th April) Polari "returns to its roots" in Soho for a one-off special event at the ever-so-swanky Light Lounge, featuring Diana Souhami, Alexis Gregory, Keith Jarrett and VG Lee.

Should be fun!

Oh, how we love Polari.

Gang wars, psychics in Torquay, rubbish lesbians, the Hollywood closet and a mini Joanna Lumley

Paul Burston, our host at "London's leading gay literary salon" wasn't happy when - opening the evening's proceedings dressed as a gangster - he appeared to be "shooting blanks" (his toy gun failed to go pop when it was supposed to - oo-er). However, it didn't dampen the enthusiastic welcome that I, Paul, Little Tony, Emma, Toby, Bryanne, Simon, Sexy Lexi, Val, Jane and a huge crowd of the great and the good of the glitterati gave to the latest outing of our favourite cultural evening - Polari.



First to the lectern was the rather delicious Kevin Franke, runner up in the Writers' & Artists' Yearbook short story competition 2014.



His tale A Visitor was a most bizarre fantasy indeed, involving an unexpected house guest, in the (remarkably miniaturised) form of one of our national treasures:

And that’s that: Joanna Lumley is living at the bottom of my bed. She’s made her home in the red wicker basket the cat used to sleep in. She says it’s ever so comfortable but I struggle to understand why she would want to live at the bottom of my bed. I can always tell which room she’s in because the cat will be outside the door, squatting, his eyes downcast as if he’s either plotting murder or considering suicide. He has taken to shitting in the bedroom.

You couldn’t wish for anyone more charming to live at the bottom of your bed, however her smoking does bother me. I wake up to smoke-signals rising. ‘This is a non-smoking house,’ I tell her. ‘Of course it is, Darling,’ she says, gently stroking my left cheek with the back of her hand. One of my trainers is now an overflowing ashtray at the side of her basket-home. I empty it when she’s out.

She’s always perfectly turned out. New outfits appear all the time. A lot of whites, creams, with splashes of colour in the form of expensive-looking scarves. A burnt orange, a sunflower yellow, royal blue. I decide to iron a pile of my own clothes, which have been languishing in a heap on the floor for months, and soon it feels normal again to put on a fresh shirt every day...

...She leaves one day while I’m at work. I find her bedding folded up neatly on top of the bed, the room aired to rid it of any stale smoke, and a note:

Darling Man.
I hope you don’t mind.
JL xxx

An imprint of her red lips. I can smell her perfume. Alongside it a pile of envelopes: red-lettered reminders, long ignored by me, opened by her, a cheque with her signature left on top of them. I sit on the edge of my bed, looking down at the red basket, already reclaimed by the cat, curled up in it, opening his eyes briefly to squint at me knowingly: the intruder gone. For a moment I have an image of a Hello! magazine feature about Joanna Lumley, one of those ‘Stars in their Homes’ pieces. I picture a multi-page spread of her all dolled up, sexy yet classy, holding a glass of champagne, photographed living in some random bloke’s bedroom in an old cat basket at the bottom of his bed.

Impressive.



Following on from the world of fantasy, we traversed to the world of murder mystery (albeit a distinctly off-beat one), courtesy of the utterly adorable Helen Smith (the night's "token heterosexual" according to Mr B).

Reading from her latest hit novel Beyond Belief, her story revolved around the mass gathering of psychics, cult members and spiritualists in the - ahem - exotic climes of Torquay for a conference; and the prediction by one of their notable number that a murder would take place during the event. Hilariously transposing the portentous pronouncements of the future-telling characters with the day-to-day bewilderment of Torquay's assembled hen parties - it's very funny stuff!

Here's Helen herself, magnanimously sharing one of the secrets of literary success:

Helen Smith - How to write a brilliant book

Putting all tittering aside with a bang, V.A. (Veronica) Fearon launched us into a quite terrifying gang-war chase sequence from her (first) book The Girl with the Treasure Chest.



Thankfully, her second extract introduced us to the woman whose interventions were aimed at breaking this cycle of violence (Dani) and her cheeky way of seduction, of Susanna, at a family wedding. An intriguing insight into the book; it does sound very promising...

A good way to round-up part one, methinks.



Sarah Westwood describes herself as a "Rubbish Lesbian". So much so, she even has her own column of that name in Diva magazine - and now, some of her often hysterically funny musings have been published in book form. Including this one:

I do think it's important to be 'Loud and Proud', but it's possible I might have taken that sentiment too literally. I've just broadcast the fact I'm a lesbian to half of Currys Wembley. I wouldn't mind, but I only went in there to test speakers.

I blame the store assistant. He was the one who instructed me to try the sound of my chosen speakers for size. I plugged my phone in, scrolled down to a random playlist, and hit play. He whacked up the volume and gave me a look as if to say, "Just wait; you're going to be blown away." There was a momentary pause then a woman in a very deep voice came lustily over the speakers saying, "Sapphic Seductions, a collection of erotic short stories…" I'm blown away.

At first I just stare at the dude from Currys and he stares back. I had no idea that this racy little oeuvre was coming from my phone; I thought it must have been a mistake. I was thinking, "Any minute now Rihanna will kick in". But instead it continued, "I could feel the soft silk of my blouse tighten against my chest as I slowly arched my back in…" I glance down and notice my phone is now helpfully displaying an image of a naked woman and the title Sapphic Seductions. Oh hell. I'm wishing I'd gone for the cheaper, less audible speakers, or better still headphones.

I know exactly how this happened. A few years ago I was stuck in a Chicago airport lounge with a lot of stuffy businessmen. A heady mix of boredom and Bloody Marys prompted me to search iTunes for lesbian content and I downloaded this audiobook. It was a bit of fun at the time and I've never listened to it since. In fact I had forgotten about it's existence. This audiobook has been languishing in my iPhone for the last six years like some lesbian curse, just waiting for an opportunity to be heard again publicly. Why now, audiobook? Why Currys Wembley?

Coming out as a lesbian is one thing, but coming out as a lesbian fan of erotic audiobooks in a high street electrical store is unconscionable. I would have some of my guilty pleasure music: Steps, Celine Dion, or even Chris de Burgh. I frantically fumble with my phone in an attempt to silence my Sapphic Seductions, but I'm panicked and fat fingering. I can't make it stop. The couple in the aisle opposite, who have been loudly arguing over extending a television warranty stop what they're doing and listen. Everyone from Home Cinema to Audio falls silent. All that can be heard is the sound of a breathy voiced narrator and her tale of lesbian office 'romance'. Oh God, where the hell's Rihanna when you need her?

We had tears pouring down our faces with that one...



Our headliner Matt Cain - cute, in a camp-Max-Headroom-sort-of-way - was formerly culture editor for Channel 4 News (and claims he was the inspiration for a gay character in the BBC piss-take comedy W1A) and since leaving, has turned his hand to writing. His début book Shot Through The Heart is described (by the author) as "a romantic comedy about a Hollywood actress who falls in love with a paparazzi photographer; and as if that situation isn’t tricky enough the pap starts getting jealous about his new girlfriend’s relationship with her handsome co-star, who he doesn’t realise is a closeted gay man."

It was the meanderings of the latter, Billy Spencer, who formed the crux of the extract he read for us; and the arrogant self-love, the playing-up to deluded yet adoring fans, the shallowness of Billy's hiding behind the closet door all rang very true even in today's world - where fame at all costs is all that seems to matter, truth be damned. Very well-observed, very funny and pithy, I think this bodes very well for a first book, and the Polari audience appeared to think so too.

Depressingly, the evening was over all too soon. However, there is some very good news afoot for Polari, as Paul announced - thanks to an Arts Council grant, the "show will be going on the road" this year, with Pop-Up Polari events up and down the country. So look out for the literary gays appearing at a venue near you!

Speaking of which, I am planning to attend the first of these a week on Saturday (7th June), as Paul Burston, VG Lee, Alex Hopkins and Sophia Blackwell turf up at the Stoke Newington Literary Festival (how posh), just down the road from Dolores Delargo Towers!

June's (regular) Polari is on Wednesday 25th June 2014 at the Southbank, and features Julie Bindel, Alexis Gregory, Barbara Marsh, Michele MacFarlane and Rachel Holmes.

Polari website