SPRING FIRE
VIN PACKER
© 2004 Cleis Press (originally published in 1952)
$17.95
170 pages

Content warning: Sexual assault, pedophilia

Vin Packer (real name: Marijane Meaker) wrote Spring Fire in 1952 based on her experience in boarding school, where she was in a "situationship" with another girl — but, when her girlfriend's mother found out, the gal denounced the Church of Gay and told Meaker she'd rather die than be like her. In revenge, a decade later, Meaker wrote a book in which her ex-girlfriend is an alcoholic who gets kicked out of her sorority.

Do I love a romance story? Absolutely. Do I love a romance based on petty revenge? Absolutely +1.

Much of the book felt surprisingly modern. Having your first Gay crush turn out to be a real asshole, chaotic Bisexuals, mental health struggles, an inexplicable obsession with swimming — some Queer things are perennial, it seems.

In summary, Mitch, a hot butch with big hands, joins a sorority and rooms with Leda, the femme campus queen with killer heels and mommy issues. Leda dates frat boys and attempts to overcome a lifetime of sexual abuse with dissociative sex. Mitch is a sheltered farm girl, daughter of a nouveau riche farmer, whom the sorority only allows to join because she's rich as balls.

After Mitch smashes a vase over a predatory frat boy's head (love it), she is assaulted by the him in a dank basement (hate it). When Mitch stumbles back up to her room, dazed and hurting, Leda has to break to her the rules of 1950s heteropatriarchy hell: Mitch can't report her assault. If she did, she would be blamed.

Then, in a move worthy of the worst Bond movies, Leda has sex with Mitch. (This is one of my least favorite tropes. Someone gets assaulted by a bad guy, but don't worry, there's a good guy to assault them back to health? Ugh.) Mitch — naive, hapless Mitch — dramatically falls in love with Leda after a single shag.

The rest of their relationship showcases the difficulties of creating a healthy relationship in a world that tells you that you are sick. Leda runs hot and cold, alternately pushing Mitch away, running to her boyfriend, and then returning to Mitch in a haze of desperate longing. Mitch struggles to find herself while dealing with the abuse poured on her by Leda.

In the confused panic of two Queers who are only open to each other, they tear into each other like two cats drowning in a sack. They face the classic Queer struggle of letting love for the other person overcome their repulsion for the bitter thing society tells them they are. Unsurprisingly, in the noxious culture of a sorority at that time, they fail.

Meaker hated the ending she wrote. The obscenity laws of the time dictated "no happy homos," so she was forced to write a grueling denouement. She despised it so much that she refused any republishing. While the conclusion's framing is as tacky as expired lube, I don't think the plot choices themselves were wrong or untruthful to the Queer experience.

Leda has a breakdown and goes to a mental health facility, which is all spoken about in an extremely hush-hush, judgmental tone. As a Queer of the 21st century who references my therapist in casual conversation, Queers dealing with mental health is not unrealistic. Leda has been sexually assaulted since she was 10. Her mother, who demands Leda call her "Jan," is an emotionally abusive alcoholic.

Leda has carved out a space for herself on campus where she is an alpha heterosexual. But she's suddenly no longer able to maintain her ruse or hold on to her semblance of security. The only place she's ever found value is stripped from her. That's a crisis-level mix of stuff.

Mitch drops out of the sorority and realizes that she never loved Leda. This, also, makes her out to be an asshole, but it makes sense. Who is lucky enough to be truly in love with the first person they fall in lust with? Mitch found another Queer, and for the first time, the undercurrents she felt were reciprocated. She was able to be open about a piece of herself and have hot, sexy times the way she wanted. That person was also emotionally stunted, cruel, and struggling with a lifetime of unaddressed baggage — it's not something that could have lasted. But it brought them both to a painful crisis that caused them to confront pieces of themselves they needed to see.

So that's Spring Fire. There's one scene in the middle in which some friends put on fluffy robes and sip hot cocoa together late night in the kitchen — and that's all I wanted for these two fucked-up, beautiful Queers. For god's sake, somebody get them a hot beverage and a good therapist.

What I'm reading to get over this: Take a Hint, Dani Brown, by Talia Hibbert
To stay in academia but move far away from the malignancy of Greek life, a hot Queer professor meets a grumpy-but-softhearted rugby player turned security guard. Fake dating and thick thighs ensue.

Next week: The Girls in 3B, by Valerie Taylor
Three roommates in the big city with big decisions and bad times ahead.