Inspiring Older Readers

posted on 07 Feb 2017

The Grass Beneath The Wire by John Pollock

I make a point of trying to collect and read books by authors who come from what we might call in the current jargon ‘outsider groups’ and which were written before notions of equality legislation or ‘celebrating diversity’ were commonplace. These books by black and minority people, the homeless, gay and lesbian authors or even sex workers do exist but have largely been airbrushed out of history unless they happen to have been written by an author that went on to become famous, notorious or renowned for their literary celebrity. Elsewhere on this site I’ve written extensively about how this process has systematically disadvantaged a whole galaxy of working class authors.

The Grass Beneath The Wire is an openly gay novel – and explicitly so, there are no coded messages here – published in 1966, one year before the passing of the 1967 Sexual Offences Act which began the process of decriminalising consenting sexual relationships between people of the same gender. Being gay in post-Second World War Britain was a desperate and depressing experience for many – men in particular were hounded and vilified, turned into criminals or socially ostracised. Those who challenged the oppression, who refused to hide behind heterosexual masks, were brave people who would almost inevitably have to deal with casual discrimination, hate speech and physical violence.

So I suppose that it’s to be expected that novels like this one are quite unusual – not unique but certainly thin on the ground. This one was published by Anthony Blond, often referred to as a ‘gentleman’ publisher – someone who had a minor reputation for giving opportunities to new authors and who was a great friend of Simon Raven, also a gay author who wanted to write openly about the community he lived in. The author of this book, John Pollock, however, appears to have disappeared off the radar completely – my research has pretty much failed to turn up anything about him as an individual although The Grass Beneath The Wire does get a mentioned in more recent surveys of homoerotic or gay fiction.

The book centres on the hedonistic life of Michael Richmond, living in London during the Second World War and drifting from Soho club to Soho club drinking cocktails and passing a series of bad cheques to keep his lifestyle afloat. Amongst Michael’s circle of self-centred, rich socialites is John, an amoral parasite who attaches himself to anyone of any gender who is prepared to give him money. The problem is Michael is infatuated with John and infatuated beyond caution. When Michael is called up for the army he absconds to go back to John – knowing he will eventually be caught by the military police he lives in denial, spending even more money he doesn’t have. When eventually the inevitable happens he is put into a military prison, not for absconding but for his cheque fraud which has by now come to light.

The central part of the book deals with Michael’s brutal time in the army prison camp. We see the casual sex and violence that forms the structure of the prisoner’s lives and how Michael tries to survive and to maintain a growing relationship with the working class Alfie. They waste their time bickering about preferment and the pointless jobs they are given – picking out the grass beneath the wire perimeter is one of these – and have to endure lectures about the progress of the war they are not participating in. During one particularly violent power struggle that ends in a camp mass brawl Michael is blinded in one eye – an event that takes him first to hospital and then back to civilian life, invalided out of the army.

The final part of the book sees Michael going back to his old life and back to his obsession with John. Whatever Michael has gone through it has not turned him into a new man – he remains willing to rook his rich friends, make relationships for money and continue his quest for hedonistic satisfaction – a state he seems doomed to always pursue and never find. He will always take back John regardless of how often he will betray him and the book closes with them finding some kind of mutual comfort in the sanctuary of their bed but knowing the future is anything but certain.

Whilst I wouldn’t claim this is a literary masterpiece, it’s perfectly adequately done and some of the character description is delightful – waspish and nicely rounded. The section in the detention centre lacks the intensity of the best prison writing  and this makes the book feel a bit one-paced but it’s something to read at a couple of sittings and I felt I’d been given an interesting insight into a world I knew very little about.

The bonus of this book is the dust jacket – which is a striking black and white creation. It turns out that this is one of artist Posey Simmonds first commissions back when she was still an art student.

Copies of the book can be found on the second hand market but expect to pay between £20-£30 for one.

 

Terry Potter

February 2017