“paranoid” and “reparative” readings, but between oppositional and non-oppositional ways of addressing a text or an event. This discourse on non-dualistic thought, analysis and action reveals a strong desire to abandon former ways of thinking. My hypothesis is that, on a narratological level, Warner’s short stories do exactly what Sedgwick and the authors of Queer Theory without Antinormativity set out to show on an analytical level.
Nonnormative, that is, deviant, marginalised, non-heterosexual behaviours, desires and structures have traditionally been a topic of exploration for queer studies. In an attempt to sum up the objectives of queer studies, Donald E. Hall and Annamarie Jagose state,
Queer studies’ commitment to non-normativity and anti-identitarianism, coupled with its refusal to define its proper field of operation in relation to any fixed content, means that, while prominently organized around sexuality, it is potentially attentive to any socially consequential differences that contribute to regimes of sexual normalization. (xvi)
Hall and Jagose emphasise that queer studies seek to question and debunk modes of normalisation, particularly those related to sexuality, and choose to identify normalisation and normativity as the starting point for most of the research conducted in queer studies. In the special issue of Differences, Jagose, Wiegman and Love et al. discuss the possibility of queer theory without antinormativity and question why queer studies are so automatically linked to antinormativity. In their introduction, the editors Wiegman and Elizabeth A. Wilson ask “[C]an queer theorizing proceed without a primary commitment to antinormativity?” (1). They question whether it is possible to do queer studies without a constant focus on normativity (i.e. the rules and regulations that determine the so-called norm), normalisation, and, in addition to Hall and Jagose’s list, normalcy (the state of being “normal”). Wiegman and Wilson do not claim that queer studies should ignore focusing on norms and regulations, rather they seek to explore whether it is possible to do queer research without encountering norms and regulations on oppositional terms (“anti-normativity”). Wiegman and Wilson argue that by insisting on the belief that antinormative criticism is the only way to dismantle norms and normativity, queer theory creates a duality that it, in effect, is attempting to eliminate.
The introduction of Queer Theory without Antinormativity in particular, but also the journal in general, has met with harsh criticism. Jack Halberstam, for example, maintains that the editors create their own, simplified version of queer theory, which is mainly characterised by its opposition to existing norms (see “Straight Eye”).6 On this point, I would agree with Halberstam who contests the fact that all queer theorists follow a notion of antinormativity characterised by a simple stance against normativity – see, for example, Sedgwick’s work on non-dualistic thought in the introduction to Touching Feeling. Rather than insisting on antinormativity, which entails being against any form of normativity, I would argue that queer critique creates spaces in which normativity is tested, debated and toyed with – spaces in which nonnormative modes, in all their diversity, can be explored.
My understanding of the term “queer” builds on Halberstam’s and Lisa Duggan’s definition of “queer”. Halberstam does not employ the term “queer” to merely refer to sexual identities but to a way of life that defies the norm, to “eccentric modes of being” (Queer Time and Place 1). Halberstam states, “If we try to think about queerness as an outcome of strange temporalities, imaginative life schedules, and eccentric economic practices, we detach queerness from sexual identity […]” (1). To me, the temporal and the uneconomical aspect of Halberstam’s definition is particularly important. In his writing, Halberstam does not exclude sexual orientation, but refrains from making it the focal point of his work. Duggan breaks the term “queer” down into three different categories – which, as she maintains, can exist simultaneously.
(1) Identity, or queer as a synonym for LGBT populations; (2) Practice, or queer as a broad umbrella term for dissenting sexual practices and gender expressions, and (3) Politics, or queer as a designation similar to feminist that appears quite independently of an advocate’s identity or sexual/gender practices. (Duggan)
Duggan describes how the term “queer” can be applied to different contexts – identity, practice, and politics. I find Duggan’s approach useful since she, in contrast to Halberstam, explicitly refers to queer as a “broad umbrella term for dissenting sexual practices and gender expressions”. This aspect of queer is particularly relevant for the first three chapters which revolve around nonnormative sexual desire. Accordingly, the term “queer” will henceforward be used to refer to nonnormative temporalities and desires.
Based on my understanding of queer, the stories selected for analysis have been grouped into different headings to reflect different forms of queerness. Chapter 2, “Homoerotic Desires” takes a closer look at the stories “The Shirt in Mexico” (1941), “Bruno” (1971) and “The Green Torso” (1970) to discuss how Warner deals with homoerotic affairs. Chapter 3, “Cross-Species Relationships”, analyses the “Introduction” to The Cat’s Cradle-Book (1940), “The Traveller from the West and the Traveller from the East” (1940), as well as “The Wineshop Cat” (1942). The focus of this chapter is on representations of sexuality, power and control in cross-species encounters. Chapter 4, “Incestuous Longings” revolves around the diffuseness of incestuous relationships. It takes a closer look at “A Love Match” (1964), “A Spirit Rises” (1961) and “At a Monkey’s Breast” (1955). Chapter 5, “Avenues of Escape”, depicts how Warner’s heroes and heroines find unusual ways of escaping interpellations, as seen in the short stories “But at the Stroke of Midnight” (1970), “Trafalgar Bakery” (1955), and “An Act of Reparation” (1964). Chapter 6, “Vanishing”, examines “Boors Carousing” (1941), “A Dressmaker” (1961), and “A Work of Art” (1961) to consider how Warner enables her characters to temporarily disappear into non-existence. The last chapter, Chapter 7, takes a closer look at selected stories from Kingdoms of Elfin (1977). It contains an analysis of the elfin world with reference to Zygmunt Bauman’s concept of the friend/foe dichotomy outlined in Modernity and Ambivalence (1991) to illustrate why some readers may consider these stories utterly strange. Emphasis here will be placed on the elves’ behaviour and the consequences of their actions, as opposed to speculating on what the elves in the stories symbolise. Side-Stepping Normativity in Selected Stories by Sylvia Townsend Warner will conclude with a discussion of the different analyses and examine the techniques employed by Warner in her writing (Coda).
The introduction started with an exemplary reading of “The Children’s Grandmother” to introduce first-time Warner readers to the oddness of her fiction. It ends with a reference to Warner’s first novel Lolly Willowes or the Loving Huntsman (1926) and discusses why this novel may be termed a “foot-off-the-ground novel” to highlight the relevance of this term for my research question.
Lolly Willowes tells the story of Laura Willowes – known as “Lolly” to her family – who, in the course of the novel, gradually changes from being a dependent unmarried woman into an independent witch. Following strict patriarchal structures, Laura’s family takes the decision that Laura must leave her old home in the country and move to London to live with her brother and his family after her father dies. At the time, Laura does as is expected of her without question. Some twenty years later, however, at the age of 47, Laura seizes the opportunity to move away from the clutch of her family and London to a place in the country called Great Mop. Her family objects strongly to the move, but despite this Laura goes ahead with her plan. She rents a room and soon settles down in her new home. The novel, which has described fairly realistic events up until this point, gradually starts to introduce more and more fantastic elements into the story. Laura’s encounter with Satan – “the loving huntsman” and not the evil entity feared by most religious groups – causes her to become a witch, a move that eventually enables her to free herself from all the social constraints imposed upon her throughout her life.
Lolly Willowes deals with Laura’s gradual withdrawal from her family and society and the theme of female liberation. In her new environment, Laura comes to realise that she is no longer the person she once was:
She was changed, and she knew it. She was humbler, and more simple. She ceased