editors have shrunk, though we have made some attempt at classification in our reviews and by awarding a plus sign to books of exceptional value. (For further discussion of this division, please consult the “List of Symbols and Abbreviations” on page 2.)

Most of the reviews in the present listing were written by one of the editors; no attempt has been made to divide the reviews written by MZB from those written by Damon. In general, these reviews have been gathered from so many sources that the awarding of individual credit would be impossible.

This Checklist, 1960, is the last of the cumulative Checklists. Plans at present are to publish brief supplements annually, listing only new titles, new reprints of old titles, or new discoveries of overlooked titles. Since this is the case, we feel that some brief history of the Checklist might be of interest to the readers.

Nearly 10 years ago, in the mailing of the Fantasy Amateur Press Association, a very bitter discussion was raging on the subject of censorship—pro and con. Complicating this discussion, a man who is now dead, and shall therefore be nameless, published a scathing attack on homosexuals. By way of subtle reproof, and partially as a deadpan joke on this man, your senior editor, with Royal Drummond (whose “Digression” was highly praised by Checklist readers last year ...) published a 12-page offset leaflet, with editorials attacking censorship, and extensive reviews of perhaps a dozen of the best known homosexual novels. This leaflet had a cartoon cover and the general light-hearted tone of the publication was indicated by the title, which was Fairy Tales for Fabulous Faps. Reaction to this leaflet was mixed, but in general the readers enjoyed it, and said, “Do this again some time—”. However, soon after this, Mr. Drummond dropped out of the Fantasy Amateur Press Association, and your present editor had no impetus to continue the series single-handed.

Early in the history of the publication known as THE LADDER, your senior editor had the privilege of reviewing the Foster book mentioned above, while the junior editor was in charge of the Lesbiana column. After reading the Foster work, your editor (MZB) resolved to publish a list of the omitted titles; when I began cutting the mimeograph stencils, however, I resolved to review not only the titles which Dr. Foster had omitted, but all of those which I had read, for the purpose of putting into print my own personal opinions and reactions. This first Checklist was called Astra’s Tower #2, and the number 2 seems to have baffled a good many people—they all wrote in, inquiring about #1. Number 1, however, was a mimeographed booklet of my own fiction, published during my late teens for the FAPA, mentioned above.

Through this first Checklist, I came into contact with Miss Damon, and because paperback lesbiana was blossoming on all the stands, we quickly resolved to publish another Checklist. I had fully intended to give Miss Damon full credit for her work last year; however, the mimeograph work on last year’s list was so poor, the quality of the paper so bad, and some unreliable reviewers fouled me up so badly on data, that I refused to foist off any portion of the blame on other shoulders.

The relaxing of censorship of recent years—as documented in the Supreme Court judgment relevant to Lady Chatterley’s Lover, etc.—has meant, in recent fiction, fewer taboos and in general a franker treatment of sexual themes. On the whole this is a good thing. However and unfortunately, it has also released a flood of trash and borderline erotica, of no literary worth and “interesting” only for the sexual content. Your editors have conscientiously waded through all this newsstand slush (and believe me, we get no kick out of it) because experience has taught us that even the worst peddlers of commercialized sex-trash sometimes come up with exceptionally well-written, honest and sincere work. For instance, Beacon Books (a subsidiary of Universal Publishing and Distributing Company)—some of whose paperback originals can be called printable only by the uttermost charity,—are currently also publishing the work of Artemis Smith, one of the major writers in the variant field today.

However, actually reviewing the majority of this stuff is impossible. Most of these books are not novels at all. They have impossibly complex plots—or no plots at all—since the story exists only as an excuse for the characters to jump into amorous exercise with the closest male, or female, or sometimes both. This sort of thing, “lesbian” only remotely, belongs more properly to the field of curiosa. One can, of course, display a Place Pigalle post card in a gallery with the Botticelli Venus, and classify them both as “nudes”. I personally consider this an insult to the Venus, and the devotee of “feelthy peectures” will find the restraint and taste of fine art too tame for his jaded tastes.

We are unalterably opposed to most censorship—but after wading through almost a hundred books whose only excuse for existence is to provide phony “thrills” for people too inhibited, too ignorant or too fearful to provide their own, well—- we think wistfully of some self-imposed standards of taste.

We also realize, flatly and realistically, that too much license in this stuff is going to bring on a wave of public reaction which may impose a sure-enough censorship—making the standards of the 1940s and 1950s look liberal.

Now obviously the field of homosexual literature is going to place a certain emphasis on the sexual problems of humanity which will be quantitatively greater than that of—say—the Western novel, or the detective story. Sex alone has not been made an excuse for consigning any novel to the trashbin. If the treatment is honest, the characters even remotely believable and the purpose of the book seems reasonably genuine, then the quantity of sex is purely a matter for the author’s discretion; and be it much, as in the works of March Hastings, Artemis Smith or Henry Miller, or little, as in Iris Murdoch’s delicate and subtle THE BELL, or Shirley Jackson’s THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE,—- we give the book judgment only on its merits as a book.

However, in self-defense, we have had to find a way to dispose of the more repetitive rubbish. Allowing for differences in taste, and granting that many people like their books well-spiced, if there is a reasonably well-written story along with the sex we have called it “Evening waster”—on the grounds that it may very well provide pleasant entertainment for anyone not a hopeless prude. But if the story is just a peg on which to hang up a lot of poorly written, gamy erotic episodes, with no literary value, and just evasive enough to keep the printer out of jail, then we have given it short shrift with the abbreviation “scv”—which cryptic letters are editorial shorthand for “Short Course in Voyeurism”—and have been the basis of a lot of jokes in the tedious business of passing reviews around the editorial staff (The junior and senior editors live a thousand miles apart and have never met; the others who occasionally contribute reviews are scattered from Alabama to Oregon.). So we have to have some fun in the endless correspondence—and “scv” books are fair game.

Regrettably, we are well aware that some people are going to use this designation in precisely the opposite fashion than we intended—- go through the list picking out the sexy books and carefully avoiding the others. Well—we shan’t spoil your fun. Each to her own taste, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow.

We wish here to give some slight acknowledgment to all those who, over the years since the initiation of this endeavor, have contributed overlooked titles, pointed out our errors, sent comments, criticisms and sometimes cash, laboriously tracked down elusive data,