Queer time with Frankenstein

 Is Frankenstein a queer icon?

One of the lesser known things to see in Rome is the Keats-Shelley House, which was almost empty when I visited, despite its being right by the famous 'Spanish Steps'. Keats is the English Romantic poet and the Shelleys are the poet and his novelist wife. Keats' died in this house at the age of just 26; had he lived to old age, might he have been the greatest English poet? I think he could have been. His bedroom overlooks the steps. What an incredible home to live and die in.

But I'd like to talk about the most interesting thing I found in there, which is Mary Shelley's portable writing slope on which she penned much of Frankenstein, aged around 19. The book at the back is a signed copy of the novel.

 

The label beside it posited Frankenstein as a queer text and so piqued the interest of my travelling companion, Lizzy the Lesbian Lobster, who is always on the lookout for queer icons.

 

The label reads: 

Missing narratives …
Mary Shelley’s writing slope

Mary Shelley is an exception to the habit of erasing women from literary history, despite her own efforts to promote her husband’s legacy at the expense of her own. Her most renowned work, Frankenstein, has been and still is being reclaimed by several marginalised groups, from the rise of feminist literary criticism in the 1970s to trans and queer interpretations in the 2010s and early 2020s. In these latter instances, Victor Frankenstein’s making of the Creature was variably understood as a disregard for heteronormative “laws” of reproduction, or as a projection of homosexual desire onto another male body. The Creature has also been reread as a queer character, given his incapacity to adapt to a normative society, or even as a transgender figure, for his body disavows his creator’s expectations. In general, all these readings agree that Frankenstein’s offspring incarnates the queer urge to disrupt society’s rules. 

Personally, I think that's stretching it a bit. If you've read the book - and the prose is none of the easiest, so good luck - the poor creature starts very far from being an intentional disruptor but wishes only to integrate and be accepted. Rejected firstly by his creator and then by humanity, his innocence and virtue are broken by suffering through no fault of his own. That I can relate to. A body that doesn't fit norms and perceptions might be another thing that resonates with trans people. 

 

Hungary and beyond

Best wishes to my lovely Hungarian friend Wilhelmina whom I have known since the first day I went out as Sue. The change of government in her country is very welcome within and outside that country's borders. Truth be told, we'll have to wait and see if the new parliament is genuinely willing and able to undo the damage of the previous incumbent. Given the usual attitudes of Christian nationalism as espoused by the incoming party, I'm not sure that there will be a huge move to improve trans rights there, but we can hope that with a bit of EU pressure (and cash, no doubt), things will get better. 

Last month I voted against the transphobic Italian government and I notice increasing voting shifts throughout the West - e.g. Canada, Poland, Holland and now, impressively, Hungary - against extreme populist agendas that don't deliver improvements, only isolation. No, trans people are not to blame for your society's ills and its economic downturns, as populists state. I've maintained here for years in the teeth of general despair that the public at large don't buy the transphobia that contemporary nasty parties have been nailing so firmly to their masts. When the nasties are gone, I think there will be better rights for trans people as new outlooks try to undo the damage of the present. 

 

Propaganda

And talking of bad politics, here is Propaganda Street in Rome. 

Named after the Congregatio de Propaganda Fide, Latin for the Congregation for Spreading the Faith, an office of the Catholic Church that promotes missionary work, it is headquartered in this attractive baroque building a stone's throw from the Keats Shelley House. 

So originally the word Propaganda had no especial political connotations at all. Just so you know.

The building has extraterritorial status, like an embassy. So I wonder if, say, you are being chased by the Italian police, if you can run in here and claim asylum. Mind you, you'll probably be converted to Catholicism and you'll have to swap that frock for something like these pink and lace numbers. Tough choices!

Sue x

Fun and frustration

 It's been a good holiday weekend, but frustrating, too. I normally enjoy the long easter break as it's a chance to get my hair and makeup on ... but not this time because all my neighbours, who are usually here only occasionally, all turned up. I mean, it's nice to be sociable and say hi, but I would've preferred the outdoor girl time I'd planned. All our homes overlook each other and the partitions between them are glass so there's no real privacy outdoors (see my photo below, taken around Christmas).

 

Oh well, gardening in my usual slacks it was, then. 

 

Foodie 

I am just shy of the half way point in my slimming drive. A bit more off and I should be in the healthy weight range again after 15 years of being too large. But I decided to pause the slimming and have a foodie weekend.

So on Saturday I enjoyed a trip into nearby Sanremo and was pleased to see my favourite stallholder at the market back in his usual position after a period in hospital. Ditto my favourite restaurateur who'd been doubled up with appendicitis last time I went. 

Everything here can be haggled a bit, whether at the market or at the restaurant. The lady who runs the fabulous if expensive spice shop opposite was eating there, too, so maybe after our pleasant chat she'll give me a bit off next time. This Domestic Goddess likes to save money in exchange for a smile! 

Sunday I took time over making lunch at home, not something that normally happens. And Easter Monday is traditionally barbecue day in Italy so everyone was out, grilling away! ...Mmm, sausages! 

 

Sanremo Pride

The Pride season here in Italy kicks off with Sanremo Pride, which is next Saturday, and this year the parade starts at the newly remodelled main square, rather then being slightly sidelined. It's even received some funding from the council. 

I really want to go but, as in the past, there's a clear risk of my outing myself in my neighbourhood. This is always a frustration, as I pointed out just last week in relation to Trans Day of Visibility. I've looked into going to Nice Pride in July instead but the cost of hotels in that chic resort in high summer is ludicrous. 

Let's see what I can resolve. But I shall be seeing trans friends in London soon so I will be getting my Outdoor Girl Time this spring whatever happens.

 

Barbecalculus

In that outstanding comedic work, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, the science of flipping spacecraft across the mind-bendingly vast gulfs of space is explored in increasingly ludicrous ways, culminating in Bistromathics, which applies the contorted unpredictability of groups booking, arriving, ordering, being served and paying in a typical restaurant to the complexities of intergalactic travel. 

I'd like to point out to physicists, as they loop a craft around the moon or devise ever more murderous missiles, that the complex torsions of barbecue smoke could indicate new mathematics. No matter the direction of the actual wind, or the angle, height, power or chimney availability of the barbecuing device, or the inherent smokiness of the food or fuel, my smoke will move around me to envelop my neighbours and theirs will make similarly contorted flight to envelop me. You can imagine that with several barbecues going simultaneously, these mutually avoidant palls of aromatic smoke create very complex trajectories as they home in on their targets with no apparent reference to normal outside forces. This might be the breakthrough into hyperspace physics that has so far been only a dream. 

I shall call this new science Barbecalculus and universities are invited to apply to Sue's Science Foundation for supplies of uneaten sausages, onions and broken charcoal to help them in their experiments. 

Sue x 

Chic and Awe: ancient jewellery and lifestyle; modern highs and goofs

There's ugliness in the world, and there's beauty and achievement that inspires real awe. I'm concentrating on the latter today with a post about jewellery and ancient toiletries, an amazing statue and its restorers, reaching for the stars and what the crazy algorithm has been up to. 

 

Stunning jewellery and beauty kits from ancient times 

I went to Rome to see Villa Giulia in the lovely Borghese Gardens, which houses the Etruscan Museum. The Etruscans lived in west-central Italy and 28-27 centuries ago they were at the height of their wealth and culture. This museum proves it with some amazing and exquisite works of art and above all - at least for this TGirl's interests - lots of beautiful items of female toiletry and jewellery. 

This decorated bronze casket is a cista for keeping your beauty kit in - makeup, perfume, combs, brushes, mirrors and the like.

 

Decorated bronze mirrors. You can polish the smooth rear side to a high shine.

 

There's none of the shower gel and exfoliating scrub that we put up with these days. Etruscan household staff would rub the ladies with oil and exfoliate their skin with one of these bronze strigils till it was smooth and glowing. Ah, when bathtime was a pampering ceremony, not an afterthought!

 

I've done what I can to take good photos of jewellery through glass cases with lights reflecting off but here is a breakdown of distinct fashion phases: 

(1) Iron Age (8th C BC), statement pieces with metal pendants and big rocks (maybe an heirloom from Grandma Flintstone).

(2) "Oriental style" (7th C BC), very different and heavily influenced by Phoenician (Syrian/Lebanese) trade.

(3) The "Archaic" phase (6th C BC), much more delicate and pretty with very detailed goldwork.

 

There's nothing to see from the 5th Century BC because of the economic collapse occasioned largely by Persian expansionist pressures on the West. The tragedy of US foreign policy this past century is the American failure to understand that other nations have long histories. The 2500 year old rivalry and mistrust between the West and Persia/Iran is a wound best left unprobed. (Meh, who's listening?)

(4) The "classical" phase (4th-2nd Cs BC). Someone was evidently interested in stars and moons.

 

(5) The "Hellenising" phase, i.e. Greek influence with its colourful stones.

 

(6) The Romans, who absorbed the neighbouring Etruscans into their own state, really knew a thing or two about jewellery.

 

(7) For contrast and comparison, they also have a medieval jewellery section.

 

(8) There were then many cases full of imitations of these ancient pieces made in the last 500 years. No one knows when humans first started to decorate their bodies (humans? lots of animals do it, too) but it's a lot of fun and I was spellbound by all this pretty stuff.

 

Awed by a statue

In January I went to Genoa and stood in awe of one of the world's most famous musical instruments (last item here). In this museum there is a wonderful statue of a couple reclining on a couch, the Sarcophagus of the Spouses. They both have braided hair but she wears a soft hat and pointed shoes, he is barefoot and bare chested. I would love to have her ankle-length dress.

This terracotta piece is over 2500 years old and I cannot put in words just how alive they look, how happy they seem together and how beautiful the craftsmanship is. I first saw this 30 years ago and bought a poster of it which hung in my kitchen for many years. 

This time it was being restored, hence the Wiki picture above rather than my own, but you could visit the restoration rooms and, although the statue had been disassembled, you could get right up close as the restorers cleaned its sections and chatted about it. I was so impressed by the schoolkids' there because of their fascination and the intelligent questions they asked. I am just spellbound by this beautiful artwork and was thrilled to be allowed this close to it.

 

The lower halves of their bodies have been restored already and put back in the museum. The memory plays odd tricks, though. I could have sworn she had heels on her shoes but they are flat. 

 

 

I did remember her shoelaces correctly, though. And the pleats of her dress.

 

One restorer was saying how much she'd love it if a modern shoe manufacturer would make shoes like this now. I so envied the restorers their job. 

Caption: 

"Be happy," they said. 

"Throw your hands in the air like you just don't care," they said. 

And that's how I lost my job as a museum restorer!

 

Anyway, I found it enthralling and beautiful. You may like to compare this visit to my recent trip to the Museum of Perfume in Grasse, France. 

And is it a wonder that in the 18th Century Josiah Wedgewood named his pottery in Staffordshire, England, Etruria after the land of the Etruscans where all the ancient art that he modelled his pieces on was found? 

 

Modern awe

I watched the blast-off of the Artemis II rocket the other evening. On CBS they and NASA made all the right noises about human destiny. progress and achievement, etc., so that made it seem so much like the exciting old days of the space race again. Yes, we know it's about rivalry and exploitation really, but we need dream fulfilment, too. It was delightful to listen to Harrison Schmitt, the last man to have walked on the moon, still lively and sparkle-eyed at 90, talk about spaceflight missions old and new. (You know, the old guard of space pioneers are uniquely fascinating, like Buzz Aldrin of Apollo 11, whom I heard talk at my school in the '80s, or Alexei Leonov, the first man to spacewalk, who gave an enthralling talk at the Science Museum in London during the incredible Cosmonauts exhibition in 2015). 

Much as I detest the squalling brat currently in charge in the USA, this is a great achievement. When I was little we really thought our future lay in the stars; now I'm a little jaded and confess that I'm not sure the stars deserve to suffer our visits! But let's see what comes of it.

 

Modern oopsies

At the end of February I invited people to suggest a caption for this funny looking cactus I saw outside the Grimaldi Castle / Picasso Museum in Antibes, France.

 

The inimitable Lynn Jones of Yet Another Trans Girl Blog fame did more than that and made the cactus more expressive.

Thank you, Lynn. Your prize of a bag of best succulent potting compost is on its way. (By which I mean it's intended for potting succulents, not that it itself is succulent, just to be clear. But you're free to eat it if you want.)

This image is now the Official Whacky Cactus Hilarity Award (or OWCHA! for short) for thorny issues that crop up in unintended, misunderstood or unexpected ways. 

And this week the award goes to the Almighty Algorithm that suggested a charming video made last year by Iranian Tours inviting me to visit the delights of Kharg Island. The main sights in this lesser-known holiday destination being oil pipelines, a date plantation and a few tombs. I hear it's lovely at this time of year. Maybe I should hurry and book before the proportion of pipelines to tombs changes.

 

Easter 

Wishing you a nice easter weekend. If you have an easter bonnet, do wear it with a pretty spring frock. But if you have a bunny costume, it's time to pop that on instead. Enjoy the chocolate. Diet starts Tuesday.

Sue x 

Visibility 2026

 It's 30 years since I stopped trying to suppress my trans nature and embraced it. Since then I have lived as much as I can as the woman I feel I am, notably by dressing as one every day. 

That's not the same as presenting as fully female every day, though, what with my concerns about harassment as well as issues with my skin that finds makeup difficult to bear for extended periods. Outdoors I live in a twilight zone, therefore: I am dressed as a woman but not treated as a woman. It's not how I would have wanted things to be but that, I'm afraid, reflects most of life. At the moment, I can't afford the hassle of being outed in this locality so I don't go out presenting fully female here, even if a look at my shoes or leggings or tops would suggest a less than masculine wardrobe. My fingernails, too, are long and trim. No bullet bra for me, but I don't reduce my assets either. 

In that regard I guess I'm like most of us: safety - social as well as physical - is paramount. The vast majority of trans people are not 'out' or known to be trans mainly for this very reason. Even those who have transitioned and would like simply to be treated as their right gender at last, without reference to all that transitioning they had to do, return to living in stealth. 

On this Transgender Day of Visibility it would be nice to feel that I could go about my business and be called Sue by everyone or be addressed as Madam. But I'm not there yet. Nor is society.

So we do what we can, whether it's supporting the trans community generally, fighting for rights and against their suppressors, helping and encouraging and consoling and advising one another, and the like. Hell, one can even write a blog. 

Wishing you all a good Trans Day of Visibility and an improved future for all of us.

Sue x 

Squeezed Melons

 I am in Rome enjoying a few days of sightseeing. Last weekend, though, there was a national referendum on the technical subject of judicial careers, with implications for the constitution. Exciting, eh? But in fact it was more of a public vote about the right-wing government of Mrs Meloni and the government lost. What's more, the turnout for such a dry subject was huge (60%). So this makes several changes in the direction of the wind. Moves like this referendum, which was partly intended to reduce judicial checks on the executive, are typical of more extreme parties but people can see the current effects of the executive abusing the judiciary in places like the USA. 

Truth be told, although Mrs Meloni's government is nominally anti-trans, anti-gay, etc., as you would expect, she has been quite pragmatic and has let minor issues like trans bashing largely alone in the face of bigger global problems. 

By the way, Meloni means "melons", and this is a source of much hilarity in lesbian circles. Although, to her credit, Mrs Meloni knows how to run with this gag. 

 

My sick relative in Milan is doing OK, although after his lengthy hospital ordeal last year he is still recuperating and the district nurse still visits three times a week. I was pleased that I was able to persuade him to come out with me to vote. He'd rather given up on democracy as he says, on a material level, one government is very like another these days. That does seem to be the impression of many, hence ever lower turnouts at recent elections and other votes. I'm glad this one bucked the trend.

Anyway, I'm enjoying sightseeing in and around Rome and exploring the local food culture. Don't worry, I won't be boring you with pictures of the Colosseum as I'm exploring lesser known nooks and corners. More on gorgeous ancient jewellery, my trip to the Underworld, talking statues, border disputes, local humour, Frankenstein and other amusing monsters with an LGBT twist when I'm back home. All I can say is that I'm glad I saw the main sights of Europe in the '80s and '90s, when tourism was important but not overwhelming, because the crowds and the queues here are unbelievable. 

Sue x

The unhinged show

 Do you feel the world is stepping off a cliff edge?

"Défi" by Nicolas Lavarenne, Antibes

Or the invaders from outer space have landed.

"Invader" by Invader, Antibes

Maybe you think it's better, instead of swimming against the tide, just to stick your head in the sand and hope it goes away.

"La Palme" by Thierry Trivès, Cannes

Or just keep trying to find answers via social media.

"Blind" by David David, Antibes

Whatever you do, it's hard to avoid seeming to step on a banana skin.

"Stupida sfortuna", stencil by Fulminacci, Sanremo

I'm carrying on with my plans. I'm in Milan this weekend partly to see how my sick relative is doing (OK, as it happens; could be better, could be a lot worse) and also to vote in a national referendum. Call me old-fashioned but I continue to find importance in democracy. 

And I wonder if the whacky artists above aren't actually more grounded than our oh-so-competent, peace-prize deserving leaders. But, of course, it's the artists who are mad.

Next week I will be going to Rome, which I haven't visited in 20 years. You can't see Rome in a week so, as ever in a place with more history and culture per square metre than possibly anywhere else, I have planned an itinerary of preferred sights. But I hope to post some worthwhile items of trans interest when I'm back. 

 

Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris's death was announced yesterday. He actually died 20 years ago ... but Death was too scared to tell him.

The passing of this star should see the near infinite Chuck Norris jokes (see above) fading away. 

Moe importantly, I hope there might be a reduction in machismo after the passing of its most obvious icon. 

Sue x 

Celebrity quest, the sacred feminine and food news

More from my recent trip to Provence, focusing on Cannes.
 
Celeb culture

Lizzy the Lesbian Lobster, who now travels with me, likes LGBT history and during our recent trip to Southern France she was keen to spot a few monuments to queer or possibly queer celebrities. Like the home (now a hotel) of American writer F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda at Juan-les-Pins in the mid-1920s. I regard Fitzgerald as a very fine writer and I'm just about to start his novel Tender Is the Night. 

He wasn't necessarily bi but I'd call him 'sexually anxious', in much the same way that he was anxious about his social status in the Jazz Age that he describes so well. Some have read hints of his being homosexual in his writing, others merely that he was desperate not to be perceived as gay or bi or less than masculine. It doesn't matter to me; what is upsetting is that he should have had to live in a society where he could end up so preoccupied with how people saw his sexuality and how he could fear that he was in so may ways an outsider. A salute from Lizzy, therefore, for outsiders who struggle, here at the former Fitzgerald home.

And if the Jazz Age interests you, how about this amazing curvaceous villa on the Cap d'Antibes, about a mile from the Fitzgeralds', called Villa Aujourd'hui (Wiki article here).

Aujourd'hui is the French for Today, which was the name of the first owner's other home in Palm Beach. She sold it to Jack Warner of Warner Bros who entertained all sorts of Hollywood stars there. You can see over the bay to Cannes from this house and that's where we find much of today's Hollywood aristocracy hanging out at the film festival. Their handprints are outside the tourist office. Jodie Foster gets the Lizzy the Lobster LGBT award.

Cannes is not really my sort of place. Too much ostentatious wealth, designer shops and celeb culture. But I did appreciate the innumerable blue chairs that the public can arrange at will on the three mile long leafy promenade.

The famous Carlton Hotel, below:

 

Having just visited Grasse, the French perfume capital, I couldn't help being reminded of the famous 1990 advertisement for Chanel's L'Égoïste which was set in a mock-up of it (L'Égoïste ad). 

But one really great discovery in Cannes that I recommend is the Malmaison Contemporary Art Centre on the promenade. As I wandered past, I was in two minds about going in to see the current exhibition, but the work of Carole Benzaken was actually pretty nice in an excellent display space and, best of all, there is a pleasant rooftop bar, the Café Olympe, with a terrace that looks out over the promenade and the beach to the Cap d'Antibes and the Lérins islands. It's worth paying the low entry fee of €6.50 just to go to the café even if you don't look at the art.

Away from the luxury stuff, the old town of Cannes is like many along this coast, a steep hilltop village overlooking the sea. Now the shops in its main streets are restaurants selling overpriced pizza and burgers so has lost some charm. 

But at the top there's an old church, a castle and a tiny but enchanted public open space, the Square du Caroubier, with a carob tree and olive trees, palms and cycads, rosemary and lavender and other fragrant plants. The benches, walls, even the rubbish bin are covered in patterned tiles in collaboration with the Malmaison Centre.

 

Such a tranquil, fragrant spot. 

 

The Sacred Feminine 

In the castle at the very top of the hill is one of the oldest anthropology museums, which had a special exhibition of ancient images of women carved in stone, Démones et Déesses (Demons and Goddesses). I call it the sacred feminine, but no conclusions were drawn by the curators: are these stone-age statuettes (so often called "Venuses") cult objects? toys? something sinister? or have people simply always liked images of naked women with big boobies and obvious genitalia? It has to be said that France is probably the only place in the world where you can happily take your family to an exhibition of outsize genitalia without inhibitions. The twin domes of the Carlton Hotel above are a tribute to the breasts of local socialite La Belle Otero, after all! 

Prehistoric "Venus" from Greenland, carved in walrus ivory

Tearful siren. Sirens were half-woman, half-bird, from ancient Greece. Hybrid creatures were seen as tormentors of mankind and the story of Ulysses hearing siren song but not being devoured by them is famous enough. Condemned to be not fully woman may account for her weeping. I know how she feels!

I'm not sure the exhibition did my dysphoria much good but, anyway, it was interesting with some precious items. If you prefer something decent and wholesome that will bring you down to earth, here is a royal male personage decently clad in decorated Y-fronts from 6th-Century B.C. Cyprus. Princes in their underpants! Whatever next?

 

 

And as a last word on enthnography, here's one of those Polynesian carvings that, when I was young, was deemed by the likes of Erich von Däniken and others to be proof of alien visitation.

Now the Cold War is over there seem to be far fewer UFOs in the sky, and now the hippies have moved into software engineering, we seem to hear less about aliens, too. Bring back the nutters! ...What? No, I mean harmless ones!

More weird statuary next week as an antidote to current nuttiness. If that makes sense.
 

Foodie news

Well, that's enough on celebrity sexuality and divine bodies. More important than all that is the fact that, although the food where I live in NW Italy is excellent and is that all-healthy Mediterranean diet, there's not actually a lot of variation. In France, however, not only do you have good food, you also have greater regional variety and many foreign restaurants. Personally, I prefer to be adventurous and try new foods, so I avoid chain restaurants. Besides, chains are not as cheap as they claim. A small, local, family-run business is worth supporting,  especially as they take pride in what they do.

On my trip to Provence, therefore, I visited an Indian restaurant (which you never find in Italy) and enjoyed a curry; a Thai restaurant, where I enjoyed a stir-fry; and a US-style restaurant for a quality burger and chocolate brownie. 

As for French regional cuisine, I enjoyed pancakes from Brittany, a savoury one with cheese, smoky bacon and mushrooms to start with, and a sweet one with Nutella and whipped cream (they have a whipped cream machine there that provides endless cream, like in some fairy tale). It makes a change to drink cider or apple juice with your meal. I also found a Corsican restaurant where they had Corsican beef on black bread ... black not because it was rye bread; no, it was black from squid ink, and that made it quite squishy! The pudding was a pinsa, which is like pizza bread but topped with chocolate sauce and hazelnuts and it was HUGE but really delicious. 

Top marks, though, to the Bistrot de Grand Mère right at the top of the hill in Cannes that served me a three-course Normandy-style lunch that for quality, quantity and price was unbeatable: a huge piece of pork terrine with crusty baguette and salad; a big, packed bowl of roast guinea fowl with onions, mushrooms, vegetables and cream sauce; and finally a double sized chocolate mousse. I go nuts for French chocolate mousse (especially if it's double size). The small spoon to eat it with was cheekily shaped like a shovel! I spotted this place after that disappointing line of overpriced pizzas in the road up to old Cannes from the swanky end of town and it met my needs perfectly. It pays to look around and not settle for the nearest.

Another good French experience was at the Café des Musées in Grasse where just two waiting staff worked with an efficiency and a charm that was super professional. The roast pork tenderloin with veg there was really good and the chocolate mousse (essential, see above) was perfect. 

When I got home after ignoring my slimming regime so thoroughly, I found I had barely put on weight. I must've walked it all off!

Sue x