I took my time with this one. This is a fictionalized autobiography; some of the literary figures and adjacent queer figures of the time were recognizable despite the name changes. It also offered a glimpse into the gay bar and salon scenes of early 20th century Europe.

A truly heartbreaking read, it's a plea for at least tolerance and at best celebration of lesbian relationships disguised under the plausible deniability of a novel. Our protagonist loses her idealism, her innocence, her home, and her hopes for the future, spurred on solely by the notion that she could change minds and hearts through being a respected writer. Even the small moments of hope here still have a patina of fear and trepidation. She walks the tightrope walk of defiance vs protectiveness.

Despite its bleakness (the title is apt), I really enjoyed this and felt held by this. It's incredible how much has changed but also how much things haven't. I could see my friends and myself in much of this.

This feels like a good place to pause on my perusal of 20th-century queer women in literature and switch gears for a while.