Secrets and Lies: homosexuality and The Stranger's Child

A puzzling twist at the end of the first part of Alan Hollinghurst's "The Stranger's Child," as young Cambridge poet Cecil makes a play for Daphne. We know that Cecil is homosexual and is involved in a furtive affair with George - and is visiting George's family at their "modest" estate, Two Acres - and much of the drama, such as it is, of the first section of the novel involves the secret trysts between George and Cecil and their fears that they'll be discovered by any of the members of George's family - even the older brother, Hubert, whom Cecil has perspicaciously identified as also homosexual to George's surprise, though not to ours). Part of this secretiveness is, sadly, a statement about the mores of the times: novels of and about this period never dealt with the issue of homosexuality directly and openly, which is, allegedly, why Forster put aside fiction writing for the latter part of his life - he couldn't write openly about what was most important to him, our loss. In any case, as Cecil and George are motivated by fear of discovery; even though the ostentatiously pride themselves on their "candor" and Cecil in particular is flamboyant and dramatic (as well as talented, supposedly, and wealthy), the shame of discovery is evidently enough to drive their behavior (though they are anything but discrete). So Cecil makes a play for George's sister, Daphne; I'm guessing he does so to throw everyone in George's family off the scent - they'll think of Cecil as a cad and a womanizer and won't even imagine that he and George are involved. All told, that's pretty cruel to Daphne and I hope she can sense Cecil's lack of sincerity and affection. Cecil leaves her with a 5-page (!) poem about Two Acres - as noted in yesterday's post, Cecil's writing, what Hollinghurst is able to create of it, is to me just doggerel - but I can accept on faith that he's as talented as say a young Rupert Brooke. The first section of the novel is promising but a little claustrophobic: very few characters, a tight setting, and a very circumscribed plot: George and Cecil trysting in the underbrush and hoping nobody will spy on them or catch them out.