Introduction
"Kept Youth" is one of the "avante garde" novels published in the late fifties dealing with life in the rural midwest but unfortunately it was almost immediately suppressed. Now however, the constant battle for free expression has been won: the freedom to write, read and think about life the way that it truly is, not the way one thinks it should be.
Harold Flemming, author of this realistic novel, has vividly portrayed the sheer boredom that infiltrates and stifles the lives of many successful men's wives in "small town" America today. George Hammond, the youthful main character of this story willingly acts as a buffer between the women with whom he comes in contact, and the element of "loneliness" that is always lurking in the shadows.
Essentially this is the story of a youth who has temptation thrust upon him at an early age, temptation that would free him of his overworked life on a grubby farm; free him of the inhuman overseeing of a sadistic father. The reader may not agree with, but he certainly must sympathize with his choice when confronted with the two alternatives.
The arrival of a lovely nurse to tend to George's invalid mother initiates the string of events that leads him to the life of a "kept youth." We, in contemporary America tend to accept the fact that successful men, bored with their wives, anxious to re-establish their virility seek the sexual company of other women. However, when the reverse is true, the old idea of the "double standard" comes into effect.
In actuality, Harold Flemming's novel is more timely today than it was when it first went to print fifteen years ago and in this sense it is fortunate that it was suppressed. Today is a mushrooming period of social and economic freedom for members of the female gender. Old shackles have been cast aside and it is obvious to all that they possess the same desires and the same weakness of flesh as we males.
Why should it be so terrible then that socialite Dorothy Wainright visit George Hammond in his room over her garage, while her husband visits a call girl in Chicago? Why then should her daughter, Dorothy, not visit him too, while her son visits a "town girl" in the sanctity of her bedroom. Reason tells you that there is no difference, but tradition tells you there is. We feel that Harold Flemming shows vividly in this novel how these ancient barriers are being torn down, stone by stone.
Mr. Flemming's vignette of George's meeting with a neurotic woman who works at the town's cleaners is, we feel, the high spot in the book. He shows that beneath the layers of degradation there is a layer of sound moral fiber that comes to the fore just when one feels he is about to sink into the deepest pit of depravity.
His experience with sloppy Frieda of "Frieda's Diner" illustrates how important visual reaction is to the male psyche. His intense feelings of disgust and loathing turn to just as intense feelings of desire and craving with her simple application of make-up, a foundation garment and a stylish gown.
Without exception, the society matrons that George becomes involved with treat him on the face of it more like he were their child than their lover. His unequalled physical attributes, the true reason for their interest in him, is never commented on, never discussed. The significance of this is that in their own minds they were attempting to soften the blows to their consciences. By rationalizing with themselves this way they maintained a rather shaky position on the moralistic pedestals they had placed themselves upon.
His involvement with Mrs. Wainright's daughter Dorothy might have led George out of the sexual morass that he had so easily submitted to, but unfortunately it was so short lived that it had no lasting effect on him.
George sinks to his lowest level at the nightly "bridge games" held at Frieda's, alias Helen Vanarsdale's, home. Mr. Flemming shows strikingly to what depths the golfing and call-girl widows can sink in their incessant search for relief from their boredom.
Finally his most psyche-shattering experience occurs as he makes a feeble attempt to get relief from his life of debauchery. His meeting with the genteel, aristocratic movie queen Elizabeth Conway snuffs out the last glimmer of respect that he has for women in general, as she turns out to be the most debased of all.
Some critics who read this novel on its initial publication felt that George's easy submission to the life of a "kept youth" indicated an innate flaw in his moral fiber that made him a poor subject to weave a manuscript around. However who of us can say that given the same alternatives to choose from, that he would have chosen the harder path? And if he did, most certainly the story that followed wouldn't be nearly as interesting as the one you are about to read.