I dunno about you, but when I think of gay pulp fiction, John Travolta in a bolo tie and ponytail doing The Twist with a coked-up Uma Thurman immediately comes to mind. But let’s take a moment to remember yesterqueer and the exploitative “literature” of the ’50s, ’60s and early ’70s detailing the seedy underbelly of homosexual life. They were the literary version of Bravo: cheap, trashy entertainment exclusively for gay men and bored housewives. And their covers were sometimes more entertaining than their plots. In the spirit of reading being fundamental and a picture being worth a thousand words, here are a few salacious covers from the golden age of pulp fiction along with what I can best glean are their plotlines.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXtU3qTK3ewVFL3X082aEd0r0G54N4NN_oPsmoJtYkvWVAAHqB94-0UBgIPOO6Pj2v_k4HEhimxuduV0nMuoS03wwXMZZsLmztjMI7OlfMMuHYf8GO5gFCKG6msXZqSOHozgRDZBArWA0/s320/homosexual-train.jpg)
Plot?
Sorta like Murder on the Orient Express, but instead of the Orient Express, it’s the Homosexual Train. And instead of murder, it’s a bunch of dudes having sex.
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