Inversion: Love That Dare Not Speak its Name
The book is often termed the famous “lesbian novel” ever written, or, at least, among the top three. And yet, the word “lesbian” does not appear even once. Such was the state of mind of the society in the early twentieth-century that not using a word to describe what everyone knew the word meant was a way for a creative artist to avoid pouring gasoline on a towering inferno. A metaphor was necessary to ascribe the acts without using the word that would fanned the flames of persecution:
“the sooner the world came to realize that fine brains very frequently went with inversion, the sooner it would have to withdraw its ban, and the sooner would cease this persecution. Persecution was always a hideous thing, breeding hideous thoughts — and such thoughts were dangerous.”
Metaphorical Philosophizing
Although this novel is infamous and notorious for its groundbreaking treatment of lesbian relationship, it is not exactly what one would term a single-focus obsessive sort book; at 500 pages it would likely be impossible to finish. Much of the novel reads like something written in 19th century rather than during the height of early 20th-century modernism. This dichotomy makes for some fascinating contradictions. One might expect the following in a romance by one of those legendary female British authors toiling away in longhand a century earlier:
“For the soil is the greatest saint of all ages, knowing neither impatience, nor fear, nor doubting; knowing only faith, from which spring all blessings that are needful to nurture man.”
Cheeky Bit of Crumpet, She is
The author is equally capable of indulging in some cheeky bits of humor, often at the expense of the cause to which she was so profoundly and emotionally committed. It is typically dry British humor that seeks not to draw attention to itself, but rather just sits there waiting for some to chuckle and others to pass right on by. A perfect example is the metaphorical description of a daughter named Stephe—who is story’s protagonist—with which this example concludes:
“The son that they waited for seemed long a-coming; he had not arrived when Stephen was seven. Nor had Anna produced other female offspring. Thus Stephen remained cock of the roost.”
What's a Metaphor, Anyway?
When forbidden to use certain words in the service of describing forbidden acts, metaphor becomes not just the writer’s best friend, but a lifeline. Where would all the novels written before their time be were it not for the ability to use one word to mean something else? Across the breadth of this long novel detailing so much that could not be expressed explicitly, the implicit secret codes lie hidden in the generous sampling of metaphorical imagery like the following:
“Like a barrier of fire her passion for the woman flared up to forbid her love of the man; for as great as the mystery of virginity itself, is sometimes the power of the one who has destroyed it, and that power still remained in these days, with Stephen.”
The Darkness
The author does not disappoint those searching its hundreds of pages for examples of the use of the number one metaphor of the 20th century (probably, at any rate): darkness. In fact, the author reveals a positive mastery of the metaphor:
“Miserable enigma! Stephen’s mind groped about it like a little blind mole that is always in darkness. “
"A sudden impenetrable darkness, a sudden vast void all nothingness and darkness; a sudden sense of acute apprehension.”
“She longed to leap up in her youth and strength and cast this thing out of her holy of holies. The fire must not die and leave her in darkness.”
