56 pages • 1 hour read
Justin TorresA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Nene asks Juan to impart some information from Sex Variants. Juan agrees, but calls him impatient.
A heavily redacted page from Sex Variants with the header “REWORD” offers a single sentence about the founding of the Committee for the Study of Sex Variants, followed by single-word descriptors including “embracing,” “punitive,” and “inadequate.” It concludes the “monograph has been […] embodied […] by a group of sex variants” (76).
Using the pronoun “they” (implied to be the subjects of Sex Variants), a passage discusses subjects’ reasons for participating in the study. Their memories, both tender and violent, are recounted—how their bodies were examined before being “anonymized” and “labeled.”
An image, stylized as if from a textbook or report, shows photographs of eight figures, faces blurred out, seven of whom are naked. The eighth figure wears underwear and shoes; the figure is masculine, and their underwear is feminine. Six of the figures are labeled “Figure” with an accompanying number; two of these labels have been redacted.
Though Sex Variants is attributed to Dr. George W. Henry, the novel cites Jan Gay as its true instigator. Gay gathered most of the initial volunteers through personal connections and visits to “the usual bars and haunts” (79). The New York-based study began in 1935 and was published in 1941, and included primarily middle-class and lower-class participants of various ethnicities. Thomas “Thom” Painter, who had been born to a wealthy family but was disinherited upon coming out, became an influential recruiter and amateur researcher for the study; his research included personal notes on his own sexual encounters. In the 1950s, he began studying Puerto Rico and its inhabitants, visiting the island frequently.
Nene interjects to ask if Juan knew both Gay and Painter, whom Juan calls Jan and Thom. Juan clarifies he knew Jan as a child through her wife Zhenya; he met Thom as an adult. Nene cautions Juan against “[skipping] ahead,” but Juan continues: He realized the “nudist” whom Thom would tell “slightly cruel” stories about was Jan after reading Sex Variants.
A photograph shows Jan Gay with an accompanying label, wearing a suit and holding a cane or golf club. She stands with an anonymous woman whose face has been blacked out, wearing a sweater and skirt. In the background, an anonymous man watches them.
Jan was born in 1902 and came out at age 20. She traveled to Europe where she studied with sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld, whose research was later disrupted by Nazis. She founded a nudist colony with Zhenya, and the two wrote and illustrated a book about nudist movements. In Europe, Jan began interviewing lesbian women. Unable to find a publisher willing to release her manuscript, she aided in creating the Committee for the Study of Sex Variants, which gave the risqué topic medical authority.
A painting shows an abstract muscular figure, with round breasts and an emphasized stomach.
Juan found Jan’s book on nudism and corresponding documentary, which he finds characterized by “nascent fascism” and “a competing anarchic spirit” (84). He identifies with anarchism despite never having been politically active. He tells Nene of Jesús Colón, a Puerto Rican socialist whom he admires for his antiracist and anticapitalist endeavors. Juan finds it remarkable that Jesús and Jan were born within months of each other, and Nene insists Juan must have known Jesús.
Juan quotes Jesús on how “singing” and “burning” are the provenance of youth, before revealing Jan’s original research was destroyed. Thom’s own work was returned only after he threatened a lawsuit; he subsequently worked with sexologist Alfred Kinsey. Nene asks if Juan and Thom were lovers; in lieu of answering, Juan continues to talk about how the Committee for the Study of Sex Variants disliked Jan’s activism, wishing to use the study’s findings for eugenics.
Two stills from Jan Gay’s documentary on nudism cite her as the author and show a quote about longing for nudism. Both stills have blurry trees in the background.
Juan reveals Dr. George W. Henry chose which participants were included in Sex Variants, ultimately publishing the cases of 40 men and 40 women which were “informative.” Juan explains the biblical significance of “forty and forty” (88), as it references Moses and Jesus Christ fasting in the desert, as well as Sodom and Gomorrah. He calls Sex Variants “the testimonies of the righteous” (89), believing its contents might save “us” from hell. He discusses his exposure to an unredacted copy of Sex Variants, which was supervised by a disapproving librarian, and claims preference for the amended version.
A heavily redacted page from Sex Variants with the header “CASE STUDIES” is a first-person report from a lesbian woman who discusses her relationship with motherhood, fear, and insomnia.
Juan confesses to lying about the Sodom story: Abraham convinces God that he needs 10 righteous Sodomites, not 40. Juan and Nene joke about finding a good partner, playfully inverting the use of anti-gay slurs.
Juan sleeps restlessly. Sound does not disturb him, so Nene sings to distract himself. During the day, he reads Sex Variants, uncertain what he is supposed to be learning. At night, he and Juan talk. Juan asks for confirmation whether or not either of them is alive.
One evening, Nene observes and recounts an outside scene to Juan. The bodega worker appears, wearing a mantilla, in a crowd dressed for a funeral. She repeats “Flores para los muertos”—a Spanish phrase that translates to “flowers for the dead”—encouraged by the crowd to speak louder and louder (94).
A photograph shows a woman wearing a black mantilla and dress, holding a bouquet of flowers. It is labeled with the name of the photographer, Carl Van Vechten, a white American writer who promoted Black artists during the Harlem Renaissance.
Nene is horrified by the “funeral,” but Juan recognizes “Flores para los muertos” from Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire and insists the group must be rehearsing. He urges Nene to abandon the scene and listen to his story.
Juan recounts years spent reading stories and poetry before the library and bookstore in the Palace’s “ghost town” closed. He references a short story (“Interiors” from Whatever Happened to Interracial Love? by Kathleen Collins, posthumously published in 2016) about a beautiful, long-suffering woman, explaining how “old-school sissies” would imitate famous women. The heroine reads compulsively, finding solace only once she begins reading memoirs, comforted by the idea that everyone experiences solitude. Nene praises Juan’s ability to memorize passages, then compares the heroine burning down her house to his flood. Juan chides him for centering himself in his own story.
Juan found Sex Variants in a box of free items in the Palace lobby. He identifies with the stories while simultaneously feeling “lifted […] out of himself” (99). He asks if Nene noticed a chill when he arrived at the Palace, but Nene counters that it is summer and therefore warm.
A heavily redacted page from Sex Variants with the header “CASE STUDIES” contains a first-person narration of the solace found through religion.
The “funeral” actors assemble outside and Juan notes that in the film adaptation of A Streetcar Named Desire, the figure of the “Mexican woman” was played by a Black lesbian woman named Edna Thomas. She was known to Jan and Zhenya, as well as a participant in Sex Variants.
A photograph shows a large group of actors in costumes (dresses and skirts for women, suits and tall hats for men) onstage. One actor stands on an elevated platform, wearing a dress as she emerges from a castle.
A tired Juan asks Nene to tell a humorous story of a sexual escapade.
A photograph shows a naked, tattooed man looking off to one side.
Nene recalls placing an advertisement on a classifieds website offering assistance with chores or errands, filing it under the page for men seeking men. He exchanges messages with a man in his fifties, whose attitude he likens to the television show Mad Men, which Juan has never heard of. Nene agrees to care for “Mad Man’s” dog, with the men agreeing to sex being implied. The dog is always crated and poorly trained, but silent, having been bred to be unable to bark. Nene first pities the dog for her confinement, but this sympathy vanishes when Mad Man asks him to purchase a leather jacket for the dog which costs more than Nene’s rent.
Nene searches for another job, finding solace in a community of queer friends who experience financial precariousness but still support one another.
Though Nene knows the dog is likely dead in the present, he fantasizes about her angrily barking. Juan cautions against over-ascribing truth to nostalgia, and Nene counters that he did as Juan asked in making him laugh.
A brief section contains three lines from Robert Browning’s poem “The Ring and the Book” (1868), asking about the relationship between goodness and truth.
Juan recounts the plot of the poem: In 1860, Browning purchases a book, which inspires obsession over a trial from the 1690s wherein a noble husband of a 13-year-old girl killed the girl’s “lover”—a priest—and her family. Juan frames this information as unimportant to his and Nene’s completion of Jan’s work—rather, it offers commentary on composition itself.
Three lines from “The Ring and the Book” compare combining truth and imagination to the work of a goldsmith.
Nene assesses there are three stories that Juan wishes to “alloy.” These stories are Nene’s journey to the Palace, the story of Jan Gay and the Sex Variants study, and Juan’s own story.
In Part 2, storytelling becomes further mediated through complex reporting and recollection. While Nene continues to control the narrative voice in sections without dialogue, his active participation through first-person pronouns is reduced. This method creates a seemingly simple structure wherein Nene and Juan’s pasts and the history of the Sex Variants study are presented as fact, when in reality, the novel is more complicated—comprising memories retold through conversation, and vice versa. Overall, the novel reinforces the power of complication over linearity in structure or time. Nene’s questions about Juan’s story—if he knew socialist Jesús Colón, or if he and recruiter-researcher Thomas “Thom” Painter were lovers—challenge linear narrative and reinforce that, in every story, there is a teller and a listener. The act of narration always includes interlocution, even when the interlocutors are hidden—thus prompting inquiry as to why they are hidden. Again, this idea ties into the theme of (In)Complete Narratives.
The novel does not explicitly answer the question as to why some interlocutors are hidden: Instead, Part 2 offers several looks at how mediation—especially redaction—of narratives affects their messages, for good or for ill. Juan’s redacted copy of Sex Variants is his preferred version, as the official publication reflects what Dr. George W. Henry considered “informative.” As for the Committee on the Study of Sexual Variance, they wished to use the publication to promote eugenics. Jan Gay served as the initial mediator for her lesbian interviewees’ experiences, but had to submit her work to medical mediation (like Dr. Henry) to make it palatable, and she herself was susceptible to conflicting ideologies at the time (fascism and anarchism). Like Juan’s wallpaper project, these many layers can make the truth difficult or tedious to find. This is the very nature of Quotations and Intertextuality in Queer History-Making.
However, Juan’s discussion of Robert Browning’s poem “The Ring and the Book” suggests fact and imagination are not binary in terms of truthfulness. Equating Browning’s analogy of combining truth and imagination to the work of a goldsmith, Nene realizes Juan’s desire to “alloy” stories. Like a metal alloy, stories that combine truth and imagination retain the properties of their original ingredients while offering something new. Nene’s use of “alloy” as a verb reasserts human participation in the combination process: Stories that combine truth and imagination are manmade alloys rather than natural ones. The manner in which Juan wishes to “alloy” his, Nene, and Jan Gay’s stories is ambiguous: He could wish to restructure them with imagination, connect them regardless of their timing, or a combination of the two approaches.