Christopher and His Kind by Christopher Isherwood Page A

Christoph, as smooth as silk!” When winter returned and Otto revealed himself bit by bit as he pulled off layers of thick clothes, his nakedness aroused both of them even more. His body became a tropical island on which they were snugly marooned in the midst of snowbound Berlin.
    Although Otto’s attractiveness was very much a matter of taste—he certainly wasn’t conventionally handsome—Christopher always felt proud to be seen with him in public. When they went to their favorite cabaret, which was also a restaurant, Christopher would keep looking away from the stage to see if people at other tables were admiring Otto. And he loved to watch the performance as it was reflected in Otto’s eyes.
    Christopher spent more money on Otto than he could well afford, but Otto was careful not to go too far in his demands, or rather, wheedlings. When Otto was coaxing Christopher into buying him a new suit, Christopher enjoyed the game in spite of his misgivings. It was a kind of seduction and it always ended erotically as well as financially.
    Certainly, Otto was selfish. But so was Christopher, as is pointed out in Goodbye to Berlin. (I have changed a name and some pronouns from the ones used in the novel, in order not to confuse the reader of this book.)
    Christopher’s selfishness is much less honest, more civilised, more perverse. Appealed to in the right way, he will make any sacrifice, however unreasonable and unnecessary. But when Otto takes the better chair as if by right, then Christopher sees a challenge which he dare not refuse to accept … Christopher is bound to go on fighting to win Otto’s submission. When, at last, he ceases to do so, it will merely mean that he has lost interest in Otto altogether.
    This is an attempt to describe the relationship between Christopher and Otto as it may have appeared to a third party, Stephen Spender. Stephen was then living in Hamburg and they went to visit him there for a few days, that summer. (I remember Stephen’s explosive laugh as he greeted Christopher—the laugh of a small boy who has done something forbidden: “I’ve just written the most marvelous poem!” A pause. Then, with sudden anxiety: “At least, I hope it is.”)
    In Stephen’s presence—and indeed in the presence of any of his English friends—Christopher’s attitude to Otto became one of apology and embarrassment. He felt himself being pulled in two opposite directions. His way of apologizing to Stephen for Otto’s existence was to play the martyred, masochistic victim of a hopeless passion—a character like Maugham’s Philip Carey in Of Human Bondage, who becomes the slave of Mildred, the faithless, rapacious teashop waitress. This was deliberate farce. Even when Christopher felt genuinely jealous, genuinely furious with Otto, he continued to play for Stephen’s amusement. Otto, being a natural actor, knew this instinctively and entered into the performance; he didn’t object to taking the unsympathetic role. Here is another scene from Goodbye to Berlin, with names and pronouns changed, as before:
    Suddenly, Christopher slapped Otto hard on both cheeks. They closed immediately and staggered grappling about the room, knocking over the chairs. Stephen looked on, getting out of their way as well as he could. It was funny and, at the same time, unpleasant, because rage made their faces strange and ugly. Presently, Otto got Christopher down on the ground and began twisting his arm: “Have you had enough?” he kept asking. He grinned: at that moment he was really hideous, positively deformed with malice. Stephen knew that Otto was glad to have him there, because his presence was an extra humiliation for Christopher.
    Nevertheless, Otto wanted Christopher’s friends to like him. He tried to approach them by the only method he knew: flirtation. This didn’t usually displease them but it did make them decide