ABSTRACT
In her biography of Radclyffe Hall, her lover of twenty-eight years, Una Troubridge, recalls a momentous conversation:
John [the name Hall used among friends] came to me one day with unusual gravity and asked for my decision in a serious matter: she had long wanted to write a book on sexual inversion, a novel that would be accessible to the general public who did not have access to technical treatises. At one time she had thought of making it a “period” book, built round an actual personality of the early nineteenth century. But her instinct had told her that in any case she must postpone such a book until her name was made; until her unusual theme would get a hearing as being the work of an established author.
It was her absolute conviction that such a book could only be written by a sexual invert, who alone could be qualified by personal knowledge and experience to speak on behalf of a misunderstood and misjudged minority. It was with this conviction that she came to me, telling me that in her view the time was ripe, and that although the publication of such a book might mean the shipwreck of her whole career, she was fully prepared to make any sacrifice except—the sacrifice of my peace of mind.… I am glad to remember that my reply was made without so much as an instant’s hesitation.… I was sick to death of ambiguities, and only wished to be known for what I was and to dwell with her in the palace of truth. (Troubridge 1961, 81–82)
