Sunday, February 3, 2013

Pulp Fiction: Women's Barracks

This week, I read Women's Barracks by Tereska Torres. The novel, which is the first of it's kind, belongs to a sub-genre of pulp fiction known as "lesbian pulp". These novels, which would be available for cheap with the rest of the pulp fiction novels, rarely featured men, and were more often than not meant as a stimulant for men, as opposed to a "pro-lesbian" pulp for homosexual women in the 1950s. The plot usually revolved around a young, innocent, heterosexual virgin girl that was swayed momentarily into "sin" by a more matured, experienced lesbian woman. The stories would often end in some sort of retribution; the lesbian woman would either die, or be lost forever, and the heterosexual girl would find herself a man.

Women's Barracks is one of the very few exceptions to the world of these lesbian pulps written for men. It is considered a pro-lesbian pulp because, while the ending isn't necessarily a happy one, it doesn't end in the death or exile of the homosexual women. One of the lesbian couples, Petit and Ann, even end up with each other for good. Women's Barracks is also much more tastefully written than some of the more erotic lesbian pulps. The sexual experiences, while implied in detail, are never explicitly discussed.

The novel is a fictionalized account of the author's experiences in the Free French Forces during World War II. While the narrator, who is only referred to by name once in the entire book, is supposed to be the author herself, Tereska has actually used the character Ursula to describe her own experiences. Ursula, a timid girl who is repulsed by men, quickly falls in love with an older woman named Claude during the first half of the book. Claude, who flirts and sleeps with women, but has no desire to actually love one in return, is fairy horrified by Ursula's affection, and lashes out at her more than once. In the end, keeping to a sort of standard set by the lesbian pulp genre, Ursula falls in love with a young soldier named Michel. Even with this ending, I thought some of the relationships set up in the book were much more complex than the standard lesbian pulp would usually provide. First, of course, there is Ursula, who seems to be asexual at times, and questioning of her sexuality for a good part of the book, until she "chooses" to lead a heterosexual lifestyle. Claude is in love with her homosexual husband, but is open to giving affection to everyone as a way to cope with the loss of her aborted child. Jacqueline falls in love with an older married man, and ends up pregnant with his child. Mickey is simply out to get a lover, and, even once she finds one, she sleeps with Claude many times just for the fun of it. Ann, Lee, and Petit are the "true lesbians", and aren't attracted to the more feminine women whatsoever.

All in all, I didn't think the book was the greatest thing I've ever read, but I thought it was enjoyable, and easy to read. I also thought it was interesting that the "judgmental narrator" of Tereska Torres, who was barely present throughout the book, was only added for the American audience in the 1950s, so that the homosexuality wouldn't be thought of as too normal. The narrator was also added by Torres's husband, as opposed to Torres herself, as he was trying to sell the book in New York while she was in France with their children. Torres herself was not at all homophobic; she says that this was simply the way women lived during the war, and that the affairs were all incredibly common. She once said she thought she had written "a very innocent book. [She] thought, these Americans, they are easily shocked". I would very much like to read an unaltered translation of the original French book, and hopefully one day this will become available.

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