c







Fiction of Gay Interest

Sixteen A Diary of the Teens
"A Boy" "Aubrey Fowkes"
Publisher: Fortune Press
London, UK

Year


n.d. [1939] 1st edition       
Cover / size: Hardback / h 19.5 cm * w 14 cm / 278 pp

Dustjacket?   yes

ISBN: n/a

Arbery Ref:   001335

Condition Good

Boards (red): leaning slightly forward, some markings front and back, including scuffs and liquid stains, spine faded, top corners severely crushed, bottom corners slightly crushed. Page edges: top dusty, bottom roughly cut, leading edge slight mottling and one leaf slightly cut. Front endpaper mottled and binding weak (also weak at pp48-49). Rear endpaper: very slight browning and bookseller's pencil inscription. Pages otherwise clean.

Price £120.00
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A Boy: Sixteen








Plot / Content:                              Rating: g

The third that appeared in a series of fictional diaries by a public schoolboy in the early part of the twentieth century. The homosexual element varies from diary to diary and is usually minimal and indirect.



Background / Biography:

The writer, who calls himself "Aubrey Fowkes" in the diaries, also wrote under the pseudonym "Esmond Quinterley". No other biographical information is available.
For other Fortune Press titles, including Diary of the Teens series, from Arbery Books, click here.





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"Yoll's is a noisy cheerful house and of course nobody bothered about me. Nobody knew and I didnt intend anybody should. And I sat listening to Mellish wit and Daly gossip with a forced cheese. Fellows were grattering about the league jerry, but I could very well have done without the jerry. I was sick inside and no jerry could make me well. And I couldnt stay in the cheery study after, I went to the rears to dwell on my grief. And the blubs oozed in my eyes. So this is the reward for my two years' devotion, I was thinking, I'm treated as if I've no feelings at all. Oh, Ingy is callous, frightfully callous. And as I thought over all my relations with him, beginning with the day when as a new youth I first spoke with him in the arcade, the beastly truth dawned he never had cared for me specially. Last term we were quite thick when we used to sit on the same desk, but it was only a passing warmness. This term there'd been coolness on his side and now was this coldness. He was deliberately turning me down. No use blinking that. I'll have to find another keenness, I was saying,fool that I've been . . But fellows kept barging in and out whistling and this upset me. But now was prep and not a tick came. And now I got calmer. It's been pleasant all the same, I was thinking, very pleasant. And after all these romances must end sooner or later, so why not now? "

pp 173




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