Reviewed by Roberta Arnold

Imagine the first songbird crush you had—for me it was k. d. lang—and then imagine she is out to seduce you. Put on some Irving Berlin tunes, take your heart into the songs of the 1940s, open Juliana, and let the magic begin. Juliana tells Al’s story: a young white butch coming out and coming of age in 1940s Greenwich Village, New York City, amidst a lively theatre world. Juliana is the songbird of Al’s dreams: manipulative, talented, rich, beautiful, sophisticated, and unapproachable in Al’s eyes. The working class struggle is as much a part of the progression forward for Al as is the realization of her sexuality. Al is from the sticks outside New York City: Huntingdon, Long Island. When Al moves into the city with childhood friends to fulfill the dream of being in the theater, her head swims seeing the places, plays, and actors that she idolized. The gay nightclub scene bubbles up during a time when you could be arrested—or worse—for being gay or for being a woman dressed in men’s clothes. 

The forward to Juliana is important as the book itself. It gives readers a synopsis of the historic progression of gay lives—where once again women’s chronicling is more hidden. Told in the colloquial voice of Al, Juliana captures gay and straight lives as they intersect and run obstacles around each other in this world of theatre, war, and prejudice. Abundantly rich in dialogue, it is easy to imagine watching Juliana, rather than reading the book as a performance piece. My only qualm about Juliana is that the author uses the hurtful prejudicial words of that time period in order to “be accurate for its time,” albeit with apology and explanation in the forward. I know we can show those prejudices without having to repeat the exact dialogue. Nevertheless, the book reads like a fast romp through our history in downtown nightclub society; I’m looking forward to the Harlem inclusion as the story continues. 

In one memorable scene, Al is making love to Juliana over (or in this case under) a café table where they are sipping cappuccinos.  After Juliana climaxes, Al’s need to follow Juliana back to her place, where presumably she will take care of Al, depicts Al’s internal struggle with the social influence of the time:

I knew I shouldn’t go. I knew I’d be sending myself to the depths of hell where red hot flames would leap at my feet. But I wanted to go. I wanted to go running straight into that hell. And I didn’t care about finishing my cappuccino. I wanted to go right away (277).      

Sexual tension and biting repartee amongst a consummate cabaret crowd are the powerful draws of this book. The steamy sex scenes, although old school, ring true with a measured tempo reminiscent of those 1940s songs. A cabaret version of the book is now playing on stage at The Duplex on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village. Move over Irving Berlin, make room for Juliana.