©2007 Natasha Hurley ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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©2007 Natasha Hurley ALL RIGHTS RESERVED GETTING AROUND: CIRCULATION AND THE RISE OF THE GAY AND LESBIAN NOVEL by NATASHA HURLEY A Dissertation submitted to the Graduate School-New Brunswick Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Program in Literatures in English written under the direction of PROFESSOR MICHAEL WARNER and approved by ____Michael McKeon______ _____Meredith McGill______ _____Eric Savoy__________ New Brunswick, New Jersey October, 2007 ABSTRACT OF THE DISSERTATION By NATASHA HURLEY Dissertation Director: Michael Warner My dissertation reorients the prevailing understanding that the gay and lesbian novel came into view in response to the emergence of homosexuality as a concept. I argue that the gay and lesbian novel has a much longer history, which I trace by considering the literary circulation of homosexual types—types that through course of the nineteenth century accrete more and more language to themselves while also generating new abstract terms to describe same-sex sexual sociability. Eighteenth-century literature was sparsely populated by minor characters or fleeting episodes of desire expressed between members of the same sex. By the end of the nineteenth century, minor characters evolve into protagonists and their episodic encounters are either multiplied or developed into novel-length narratives with the texture of entire worlds. “Getting Around” thus takes as its focus the development not just of queer characters or subjects, but of queer protagonists and complete narrative worlds in which those protagonists make sense. ii My chapters focus both on the ways authors respond to the language of sexual types in other texts and on the ways other texts respond to them as they continue to circulate. My first chapter argues that Herman Melville’s Typee has gradually acquired its status as a queer text: in the ways Melville engages with sexuality in missionary writings and in the way other writers engage with sexuality in Typee. This influence can be seen fully in Charles Warren Stoddard’s writing, which I explore in Chapter Two. Stoddard’s depictions of sexual sociability between men in the South Seas respond directly to Melville’s and are, in turn, nurtured by Stoddard’s wide circuits of literary and social circulation. My third chapter charts the circulation of female sexual types, tracing the overlapping, and mutually constituting, relationships between old maids and lesbians that are central to the social worlds depicted by Sarah Orne Jewett and Henry James. My final chapter turns fully to James’s The Bostonians. In the space of one novel, I argue, James dramatizes the processes of sexual type production and social circulation that I have been documenting in American literature throughout the nineteenth century. iii Acknowledgements Getting Around does not just describe, but owes its very existence to, circulation. I have had the good fortune to move about the world among many amazing individuals, communities of scholars, and caring friends—all of whom have nourished my life and work by allowing me to circulate within and between them. Without them, this dissertation might never have come to fruition. Several people have more than earned their places at the top of this list for their unflagging support and encouragement—and for believing I could finish at the times when I was sure I could not. Barbara Markovits has steered me through many a dark night of the soul with her combination of great wisdom and pragmatism. And every graduate program in the world should be so lucky as to have a Cheryl Robinson, that perfect combination of kindness and shrewdness, who always knows how to save the day (and, when necessary, the circus). More than anyone, however, Susanne Luhmann has been there every day, with boa and without, making life brighter and more airy. Smart, tender, and an amazing reader of words and people, she is my best friend and the joy of my life. As my very first intellectual community, my family in Newfoundland taught me the values of having a rich life of the mind as well as a lively household. My parents, Nick and Sylvia Hurley, saw to it that there was a steady supply of books in the house and made me believe I could do and be anything. My siblings—Andrea, Paul, and Kenneth—showed me how it is that a small group of people can develop a shared language by appropriating the soundbites of others, a practice we share to this day. My grandmothers, family matriarchs Mary Hall and Rose Hurley, furnished us with many of iv those soundbites and stories and heaped us with stern—but also soft—love. My uncles— Wayne, Gervase, Eugene, and David—encouraged us relentlessly (and sometimes deviously). I remain convinced that the culture of dinner table debate that defines many Newfoundland families is one of the reasons I still love a good intense discussion. Today, our family has scattered to and multiplied within points beyond the small town of North River. But its collective love of words, books, good food, and drink have been instrumental to the production of these pages. In more direct ways, the people I met at Mount St. Vincent University in Halifax, inspired me specifically to a PhD in literary studies. Rosemarie Sampson first showed me what the Mount had to offer, while Martha Westwater saw to it that I chose to study English over Math or French. But Steven Bruhm, Peter Schwenger, Rhoda Zuk, and Chris Ferns made the study of literature the most exciting thing I could imagine. They have become more than professorial idols: they have been incredible friends and colleagues, without whom I cannot imagine having arrived at this point in my life. Steven, in particular, has been an exceptional advisor, collaborator, and supporter. I owe to him a bigger debt of gratitude than words can say. More generally, my time as both student and lecturer at MSVU, enabled me to develop relationships with people who continue to be my closest allies and comrades. I am deeply grateful to Adele Poirier for hanging out with me in the turret and for many a Christmas-tree caper; to Goran Stanivukovic for hiring me and for our years-long shared fascination with an Adam- Phillips-style analysis of the world; to Teresa Heffernan (also for hiring me) and for many dinners and nights on the futon in Toronto; to Shawn Miner for longs walks on the beach and too many trips in the U-Haul; to Bill Adams for all the v late-night drinks and debates; and to (the sadly late) Emily Givner, the memory of whose passion for books, writing, and cheesecake, I hold near and dear to my heart. My brief year of MA study at the University of Western Ontario was also formative for my academic development. Here, in the classes particularly of Tilottama Rajan and Elizabeth Harvey, I immersed myself fully in heady climes of theory. I benefited from their seemingly endless patience (as I encountered a steep learning curve) and, later, from their excellent advice as I chose a graduate school for my doctoral work. I carry with me several lasting friendships from my time at Western: with Shelley Hulan (my Congress colleague), with Theresa Smalec, and, above all, with Edie Snook—a friend for all the crunch-times, academic and not. I carried the influences of all of these people and places with me to (and from) New Brunswick, NJ, where I embarked on a doctoral roller coaster ride at Rutgers University. I tip my hat to a significant committee of people who enabled me to come out on top, especially after my hiatus from the program halfway through. As graduate director, Myra Jehlen single-handedly facilitated my return to Rutgers by restoring funding I thought I had forfeited. She also softened my return landing by inviting me into her dissertation writing group, where I was exposed to and encouraged by her unparalleled close reading skills. That learning was top of mind in every quotation analysis in this document. Michael McKeon also enthusiastically welcomed my return and, throughout the writing of my dissertation, seemed at every turn to surpass his own reputation as a paragon of academic knowledge and integrity. I could not have triumphed without him. Meredith McGill, in her roles as graduate director and third reader, always came through with timely and pragmatic advice to smooth my way. Above all, I have vi Michael Warner to thank for supervising my dissertation work from start to finish. His quick mind, uncompromising intellectual standards, and graceful writing allowed me to see what academic writing can be, at its best. I have come away from my entire experience at Rutgers with a solid sense of the kind of intellectual I want to become—and a clear outline of the standards I hope to establish for myself. A long list of Rutgers friends also supported me, fed me, and read my work. Particular thanks are due Mary Jo Watts, Sara Warner, Carla MacDougall, Laurie Marhoefer, Terri Geller, Danielle Bobker, Sina Queyras, Jeff Scraba, Luis Iglesias, Jenny Worley, Jane Elliot. One of the best things about being at Rutgers was the way the program facilitated my going to other places while I was still connected to New Jersey. Through a Mellon Fellowship, I was able to do archival research at the University of California (Berkeley) and at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester. And, as I was about halfway through my dissertation, I was lucky to have had the most enlivening intellectual experience of my career thus far funded by another Mellon grant when I got to participate in the School of Criticism and Theory at Cornell University in 2005.