Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters

Confession time: I actually finished “Tipping the Velvet” around Christmas. But owing to the fact that I’m a) lazy as hell, and b) an overladen philosophy and political science student, I just haven’t found the intellectual space to give this great book its due. So without further ado, I finally present a brief review of Sarah Waters’ inventive lesbian classic.

Tipping the Velvet is the kind of work that lingers pleasantly after you finish reading, like a good bar of chocolate. Waters’ writing flows seamlessly, and the story bubbles over with optimism and a sense of possibility. I was in a good mood all day when I finally closed the covers on this delectable page-turner.

The tale is told by Nancy Astley, a turn-of-the-century oyster girl (and yes, the Sapphic overtones are that obvious) living in the quiet English seaside town of Whitstable. Her only real pleasure is in visiting the local music hall, where she meets a dazzling male impersonator named Kitty Butler. Night after night, she finds herself strangely drawn to the music hall to watch Kitty’s act, much to the confusion of her working class parents and her befuzzled beau Freddy. Eventually, Kitty notices Nancy and invites her to come to London as her personal assistant. As the two girls work together, they develop a close friendship, and slowly become aware of their mutual attraction to one another. The buildup to their budding romance culminates in one of the most stunningly poetic and erotic scenes I’ve ever read.

Plus, stunning women in tuxes (from the 2002 BBC adaptation)

But the story doesn’t end with Kitty and Nancy’s romantic revelation - not by a long shot. The book wends its way through the smoky atmosphere of a Dickensian London, landing our fearless heroine in the varied company of vaudeville performers, saintly socialists, male prostitutes, secret BDSM socialites, and of course, underground lesbians galore. You can’t help but watch with bated breath as Nancy struggles to question, explore, and develop her sexuality in an age known primarily for its collective repression. And when she emerges triumphant at the end, you can’t help but cheer aloud. 

It’s an admittedly anachronistic narrative, but luckily Waters is adept at painting a rich and colorful setting for her equally colorful characters. And by using conservative Victorian England as her backdrop, Waters is able to fully demonstrate the depth of the oppression faced by the modern LGBTQ community, women, and the poor. In short, this socially-conscious read is both delightful and thoroughly relevant. 

-Claire