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[[File:A Dangerous Life by Stephen Nicholson.jpg|thumb|200 px|A Dangerous | [[File:A Dangerous Life by Stephen Nicholson.jpg|thumb|200 px|A Dangerous Love - front cover]] | ||
'''A Dangerous | <br> | ||
'''A Dangerous Love''' by Stephen Nicholson and edited by Edmund Marlowe (author of [[Alexander's Choice (book)|Alexander's Choice]]) was released on November 10, 2023 by the publisher [[Arcadian Dreams]]. It is a memoir which gives an account of his life as a [[boylover]]. | |||
== | ==Description== | ||
What would you do if the one thing you truly loved and that you knew brought out the best in you made you a monster in the eyes of the society you grew up in? Would you avoid your love and lead a half-life without hope of fulfilment, despite knowing the hatred directed at the true you was irrational and founded on fake science foisted on the public by vested interests? A Dangerous Love is a memoir which invites you to step into the shoes of a kind and courageous man struggling throughout his life with this dilemma. | |||
Suffused with the author’s warm wit and intellectual honesty, A Dangerous Love is an extremely rare true account of the life of a lover of boys, told with a breathtaking candour only possible because it was written for posthumous publication by a dying man determined to bequeath the truth to anyone interested in it. It is, however, much more than this. The England music teacher Stephen Nicholson grew up in was very different to the grim UK of today in the freedom of action and spirit it allowed to adolescent boys, and his memoir is a finely observed and valuable record of vanished ways of thinking there and elsewhere.<ref>https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1914571150/ref=cm_cr_dp_d_vote_lft?ie=UTF8&csrfT=hGVXeArDtDGGHrRu7lVgv5W5OW09loQg7uvJNylIcIK9AAAAAGVyoMcAAAAB&reviewId=RCTIP220YC2SA</ref> | |||
==Excerpt== | |||
[Here the author is describing a visit to Amsterdam in 1986:] | |||
When I returned to my room, I studied the Spartacus guide before going to bed. It was extremely helpful, indicating the shops where one could find the widest range of material. I thus sought out these places the following morning. | |||
The third one appeared the most promising, and I gravitated over to a section of magazines which had the least hairy-looking nude males on the covers – I estimated their ages at around eighteen. Then a friendly voice behind me in a strong Dutch accent asked: | |||
“Can I help you?” | |||
I knew no better word and replied boldly, “Yes, I’m looking for the paedophile section.” | |||
“Ah, I knew it, as soon as you came in. I knew it!” | |||
“Oh right!” | |||
“I knew it, you know!” | |||
“Mmm.” | |||
“I knew!” Slight chuckle. | |||
I could not find any further response to make to this. | |||
“But that is also illegal to sell in Holland now.” | |||
“Ah, I see!” I prepared to leave. | |||
“But wait! I can help you if you follow me to another special room!” | |||
“Oh, OK. Thank you – how kind.” | |||
I was shown into a small private area sealed off from the main shop by a single curtain and containing a large stock of magazines and films of various degrees of naughtiness, all of it rather expensive. I made my selection of three of the less hardcore-looking mags (though they still portrayed erections) and went to pay for them, anxious to leave. But the conversation was far from over. | |||
“You can see some of the films beforehand if you’d like to buy them too!” | |||
“Maybe later. This is fine for now, thanks.” | |||
“You know, boy-love is a very good thing. I had my first blow job from a man when I was twelve and enjoyed it very much.” | |||
“Oh, that’s nice!” | |||
“I also gave the man a blow job in return, as he was very attractive to me.” | |||
“How lovely!” | |||
“You know, you are a very attractive man too. I can give you a free blow job if you like.” | |||
“Well, you are most kind. I’ll bear it in mind …” | |||
And then a sort of what-the-hell-what-have-I-got-to-lose? thought struck me. If this man fancied me, he might be useful. | |||
“Erm, I just wondered,” I added hesitantly as I handed over the money for the magazines, and he put them in a bag. | |||
“Yeees?” (Smiling eagerly) | |||
“Do you know where I might find the real thing … here in Amsterdam? Boys, I mean?” | |||
“Well, as a matter of fact I do know this man. He lives in a large apartment and has many available boys visiting him. Some are as young as eleven and many are very beautiful.” | |||
What!? You’re kidding me! Then as coolly as I could: “That sounds great, does he allow others to share them?” | |||
“Yes, as long as the person comes well-recommended, and I can see you are a genuine, nice sort of person.” | |||
Inwardly I had a sort of aw-shucks reaction to this, but I didn’t want to lose any of the amazing ground I seemed to have made in such a short time, so I remained silent and simply raised my head and eyebrows and smiled gently in quizzical anticipation. Surely this couldn’t be happening? It all seemed a bit surreal. | |||
He produced a piece of paper, wrote down a name and telephone number and handed it to me. | |||
“Just say that you got this number from Stijn, and it’ll be fine.” | |||
I offered Stijn my profound thanks, adding that I’d think about the films and would come back and let him know. | |||
As I was leaving the shop, he suddenly shouted after me “Oh by the way!” | |||
Oh Lord, what now? Was it all a hoax? Had I left something behind? | |||
I turned round, half in and half out of the door, with other customers milling around close by. | |||
“Yes?” | |||
Loud and jovial: “Don’t forget the free blow job!” | |||
“Oh, no, right, thank you again. Goodbye for now then.” | |||
I dithered for some time, and finally plucked up the courage to ring the number from a call box. Perhaps it would be the local police station … | |||
It was answered quickly: “Allo.” | |||
“Ah, hello, do you speak English?” | |||
“Yah.” | |||
“My name’s Stephen, am I speaking to Berend?” | |||
“Yah.” | |||
“I was given your number by Stijn, is it alright to talk?” | |||
“Maybe, it depends.” | |||
“He told me that you had available boys, and I was wondering what sort of age they were!” | |||
Slightly narked: “Vould you ask such a question over ze telephone in your own country?” | |||
“Of course not, I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have called …” | |||
“I said zat ze telephone iz not good for discussing zese matters, but if you want to come round and see me, you vill see how it is for yourself.” | |||
“Oh right, thank you. How about this evening?” | |||
“Yah, that vould be OK.” | |||
==References== | ==References== | ||
| Line 15: | Line 126: | ||
*[https://www.amazon.com/dp/1914571150 A Dangerous Love Paperback (available on Amazon)] | *[https://www.amazon.com/dp/1914571150 A Dangerous Love Paperback (available on Amazon)] | ||
{{Navbox Edmund Marlowe|collapsed}} | {{Navbox Edmund Marlowe|collapsed}} | ||
{{Navbox Arcadian Dreams|collapsed}} | |||
[[Category:English literature]] | [[Category:English literature]] | ||
[[Category:Boylove in literature|A Dangerous Life]] | [[Category:Boylove in literature|A Dangerous Life]] | ||
[[Category:Autobiographical literature]] | [[Category:Autobiographical literature]] | ||
Latest revision as of 17:12, 11 September 2024
A Dangerous Love by Stephen Nicholson and edited by Edmund Marlowe (author of Alexander's Choice) was released on November 10, 2023 by the publisher Arcadian Dreams. It is a memoir which gives an account of his life as a boylover.
Description
What would you do if the one thing you truly loved and that you knew brought out the best in you made you a monster in the eyes of the society you grew up in? Would you avoid your love and lead a half-life without hope of fulfilment, despite knowing the hatred directed at the true you was irrational and founded on fake science foisted on the public by vested interests? A Dangerous Love is a memoir which invites you to step into the shoes of a kind and courageous man struggling throughout his life with this dilemma.
Suffused with the author’s warm wit and intellectual honesty, A Dangerous Love is an extremely rare true account of the life of a lover of boys, told with a breathtaking candour only possible because it was written for posthumous publication by a dying man determined to bequeath the truth to anyone interested in it. It is, however, much more than this. The England music teacher Stephen Nicholson grew up in was very different to the grim UK of today in the freedom of action and spirit it allowed to adolescent boys, and his memoir is a finely observed and valuable record of vanished ways of thinking there and elsewhere.[1]
Excerpt
[Here the author is describing a visit to Amsterdam in 1986:]
When I returned to my room, I studied the Spartacus guide before going to bed. It was extremely helpful, indicating the shops where one could find the widest range of material. I thus sought out these places the following morning.
The third one appeared the most promising, and I gravitated over to a section of magazines which had the least hairy-looking nude males on the covers – I estimated their ages at around eighteen. Then a friendly voice behind me in a strong Dutch accent asked:
“Can I help you?”
I knew no better word and replied boldly, “Yes, I’m looking for the paedophile section.”
“Ah, I knew it, as soon as you came in. I knew it!”
“Oh right!”
“I knew it, you know!”
“Mmm.”
“I knew!” Slight chuckle.
I could not find any further response to make to this.
“But that is also illegal to sell in Holland now.”
“Ah, I see!” I prepared to leave.
“But wait! I can help you if you follow me to another special room!”
“Oh, OK. Thank you – how kind.”
I was shown into a small private area sealed off from the main shop by a single curtain and containing a large stock of magazines and films of various degrees of naughtiness, all of it rather expensive. I made my selection of three of the less hardcore-looking mags (though they still portrayed erections) and went to pay for them, anxious to leave. But the conversation was far from over.
“You can see some of the films beforehand if you’d like to buy them too!”
“Maybe later. This is fine for now, thanks.”
“You know, boy-love is a very good thing. I had my first blow job from a man when I was twelve and enjoyed it very much.”
“Oh, that’s nice!”
“I also gave the man a blow job in return, as he was very attractive to me.”
“How lovely!”
“You know, you are a very attractive man too. I can give you a free blow job if you like.”
“Well, you are most kind. I’ll bear it in mind …”
And then a sort of what-the-hell-what-have-I-got-to-lose? thought struck me. If this man fancied me, he might be useful.
“Erm, I just wondered,” I added hesitantly as I handed over the money for the magazines, and he put them in a bag.
“Yeees?” (Smiling eagerly)
“Do you know where I might find the real thing … here in Amsterdam? Boys, I mean?”
“Well, as a matter of fact I do know this man. He lives in a large apartment and has many available boys visiting him. Some are as young as eleven and many are very beautiful.”
What!? You’re kidding me! Then as coolly as I could: “That sounds great, does he allow others to share them?”
“Yes, as long as the person comes well-recommended, and I can see you are a genuine, nice sort of person.”
Inwardly I had a sort of aw-shucks reaction to this, but I didn’t want to lose any of the amazing ground I seemed to have made in such a short time, so I remained silent and simply raised my head and eyebrows and smiled gently in quizzical anticipation. Surely this couldn’t be happening? It all seemed a bit surreal.
He produced a piece of paper, wrote down a name and telephone number and handed it to me.
“Just say that you got this number from Stijn, and it’ll be fine.”
I offered Stijn my profound thanks, adding that I’d think about the films and would come back and let him know.
As I was leaving the shop, he suddenly shouted after me “Oh by the way!”
Oh Lord, what now? Was it all a hoax? Had I left something behind?
I turned round, half in and half out of the door, with other customers milling around close by.
“Yes?”
Loud and jovial: “Don’t forget the free blow job!”
“Oh, no, right, thank you again. Goodbye for now then.”
I dithered for some time, and finally plucked up the courage to ring the number from a call box. Perhaps it would be the local police station …
It was answered quickly: “Allo.”
“Ah, hello, do you speak English?”
“Yah.”
“My name’s Stephen, am I speaking to Berend?”
“Yah.”
“I was given your number by Stijn, is it alright to talk?”
“Maybe, it depends.”
“He told me that you had available boys, and I was wondering what sort of age they were!”
Slightly narked: “Vould you ask such a question over ze telephone in your own country?”
“Of course not, I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have called …”
“I said zat ze telephone iz not good for discussing zese matters, but if you want to come round and see me, you vill see how it is for yourself.”
“Oh right, thank you. How about this evening?”
“Yah, that vould be OK.”
References
External links
