Abstract
As the first full-length book on the contentious topic of ‘queerbaiting’, this edited volume by Joseph Brennan sits at the intersection of fan studies, queer studies and media studies more generally. ‘Queerbaiting’ is a term popularised within fan cultures and is beginning to be picked up by the popular press, thus attracting academic discussion and critique. As Brennan’s introduction lays out, the word has and has had a range of meanings but within media studies, it usually refers to techniques utilised by writers, networks and other producers to attract queer viewers by hinting at or outright promising queer representation within a text and then failing to deliver it. ‘Failing to deliver’, in this context, might mean repeatedly employing the tropes of romance between same-sex characters but never allowing them a relationship; it might mean killing off queer characters gratuitously; or it might mean confining affirmations of queerness to paratexts which most mainstream audiences are likely to ignore. Identifying the scope and meanings of the term, in addition to its uses and critical potentials, is a key part of the project of this book which lays out timely and constructive arguments to help establish queerbaiting as area of study.
The volume is roughly divided into three parts. In the first, Brennan, Emma Nordin and Monique Franklin explore a range of texts and practices that have been called queerbaiting, and the criticisms fans have made of these techniques. These include the exploitation of queer viewers and the insincerity of media producers who attempt to have their cake and eat it: to gather the cultural kudos of allyship and loyalty of queer viewers, without risking their profit margin, domestically or in overseas markets, by offending or alienating the heteronormative majority. The authors also discuss some of the limitations of queerbaiting as concept and Franklin particularly provides some insightful criticism here, suggesting that to accuse texts of queerbaiting is to demand an ‘absolutist perspective on representation which sacrifices nuance’ and problematically disallows for fluidity and ambiguity within sexual identities and representation. There is a danger, she argues, that by insisting on clearly defined – indeed policed – gender identities, we actually reinforce the heteronormative binary framework which queer theory sets out to destroy.
The second section of the collection is devoted to specific case studies which build on these ideas, focusing both on contemporary popular texts, like Jennifer Duggan on the Harry Potter novels and the theatrical version of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (2016), and, like Holly Randell-Moon on Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), employing retrospective lenses to consider how arguments around queerbaiting might play out in earlier texts when queer visibility was more proscribed in popular media. Each contribution adds a set of short, accessible and specific arguments, usually from a specific and declared perspective, to the longer theoretical chapters. Though less informed by the theoretical history, these ‘thought pieces’ provide a valuable introduction to academic arguments around queerbaiting for the general reader, as well as provocations to further work.
The third section branches into new areas that might be addressed through a queerbaiting lens, notably the issue of so-called ‘celebrity queerbaiting’ (Brennan and Michael McDermott). What do we make of the fashion for queer performativity by self-declared ‘straight’ celebrities and how do arguments around exploitation, the queer market, ‘truth’ and objectification intersect here? Bridget Blodgett and Anastasia Salter contribute a stimulating argument about homoromanticism and heteronormativity in children’s cartoons; half-hearted and vague representation of queer romance and affection is typical in such texts, they argue, because of an underlying structural bias that posits queer relationships as somehow inherently more ‘mature’ or ‘unsuitable for children’ than straight relationships, regardless of the degree or explicitness of sexuality represented. The thought pieces in part three serve as explicit provocations for the future of queer studies – particularly stimulating is Divya Garg’s comparison of Japanese ‘fujoshi culture’, in its appeal to women who desire to see queer male relationships onscreen, to the strategies employed by Western media producers in depicting ambiguously queer relationships.
Happily, while Queerbaiting and Fandom refrains from laying out an ‘agenda’ for the study of queerbaiting, the collection goes a long way to map out the terrain on which future scholars can build, following on the cultural, ethical, aesthetic and economic questions raised by the authors here. There were some points at which further geographical and historical contextualisation would have bolstered the arguments; queer studies, after all, is necessarily invested in difference and dissimilarity rather than totalisation. Garg’s short piece was a striking example of how attention to these factors can illuminate nuances we might otherwise miss. Nonetheless, the constraints as well as the opportunities of an edited volume must be allowed for and, that given, I consider this a valuable, readable and thought-provoking volume which should be widely utilised by scholars of fan culture and queer media.