A forgotten period masterpiece – Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Catch Trap, published in 1979, represents a significant departure from the author’s more celebrated work in fantasy and science fiction. Set within the American circus world of the 1930s through 1950s, this novel centres on the professional and romantic partnership between two trapeze artists, exploring both the technical mastery of their craft and the emotional complexity of a relationship constrained by the rigid morality of mid-century America.
The narrative follows Tommy Zane, son of a lion tamer, whose natural gift for flying leads him to become the protégé and catcher to Mario Santelli, an established star of the trapeze. As their aerial act achieves renown, the pair must navigate not only the physical dangers of attempting the triple somersault – that most treacherous of circus feats – but also the tensions within their circus family and, more significantly, the necessity of concealing the true nature of their bond from a society unprepared to acknowledge it.
Bradley’s considerable achievement here lies in her meticulous attention to the technicalities of trapeze work. The descriptions of aerial acts are breathtakingly detailed, drawing readers into the physicality, precision, and danger inherent in the art. The reader gains an authentic sense of the rigorous training, the split-second timing, the absolute trust required between flyer and catcher. This is no romanticised or superficial treatment of circus life; rather, Bradley presents it as demanding physical labour, a discipline as exacting as any art form. The circus itself becomes more than mere backdrop – it functions as a fully realised world with its own hierarchies, traditions, and codes of behaviour. Indeed, the high-flying artistry of the trapeze serves as a metaphor for the characters’ yearning for freedom and transcendence over societal limitations.
What distinguishes The Catch Trap from much gay fiction of its era is Bradley’s refusal to sensationalise or apologise for the relationship at its centre. Tommy’s journey from naïve teenager to confident artist and self-aware individual forms the emotional core of the novel, with Mario serving as both mentor and eventual lover – a deeply charismatic figure whose experiences and convictions guide Tommy through his personal and professional growth. Their love is presented neither as tragedy nor as manifesto, but simply as the central emotional reality around which all else turns. The constraints they face are real – the period setting ensures that discretion is not merely advisable but essential – yet Bradley affords her characters both dignity and complexity. They are not reduced to their sexuality; they are artists, sons, colleagues, individuals shaped by circumstance yet possessing agency within those limitations.
Bradley’s portrayal operates as incisive social commentary, critiquing the rigid structures of heteronormativity and the oppressive expectations imposed on those who deviate from convention. The circus, traditionally a space of marginality and otherness, becomes a microcosm where characters grapple with questions of identity, belonging, and resistance to conventional morality. The generational tensions within the Santelli family add further depth, as Mario struggles to honour his family’s circus traditions while forging his own path – a conflict between preserving heritage and pursuing individual desires that underscores the weight of legacy as both pride and burden.
The novel’s treatment of relationships, whether romantic, familial, or professional, is layered and nuanced. Bradley’s prose possesses a lyrical quality and emotional resonance that renders the camaraderie and rivalries among circus performers with authenticity, creating a palpable sense of community and shared struggle. The parallels between the trust required in a trapeze act – where one’s life depends absolutely upon one’s partner – and the vulnerability inherent in any loving relationship are never belaboured but remain powerfully implicit throughout.
Yet the novel is not without its problematic aspects. The depiction of Mario and Tommy’s relationship, particularly given their significant age difference and the inherent power imbalance between mentor and protégé, raises uncomfortable questions about agency and ethical boundaries. While the narrative frames their bond as consensual and deeply loving, contemporary readers may find themselves troubled by dynamics that the text itself presents uncritically. Bradley challenges readers to grapple with complex moral and emotional terrain, though whether she fully confronts these complications or merely reproduces them remains open to debate.
The novel shares, too, certain weaknesses common to its genre and period. At times the prose tends toward melodrama, and some secondary characters remain rather thinly drawn, serving more as obstacles or facilitators to the central relationship than as fully developed persons in their own right. The historical setting, while providing necessary context for the couple’s secrecy, occasionally feels more imposed than organic, as though Bradley were more comfortable with the circus milieu than with the broader social landscape of post-war America.
Yet these are considerations rather than fatal flaws in a work that succeeds admirably in its primary aims. Bradley has written a novel that illuminates both a specialised professional world and a particular emotional experience with equal authenticity. The Catch Trap is a story of resilience and courage, celebrating the triumphs of the human spirit even in the face of societal condemnation and personal sacrifice. It invites readers into a world of dazzling artistry and intense emotional stakes, where characters navigate the precarious balance between their public and private selves.
The Catch Trap serves as an important reminder that Bradley’s talents extended well beyond the fantasy fiction for which she is primarily remembered. This is not a ‘gay novel’ in
any limiting sense, but rather a novel about human beings whose capacity for love, ambition, fear, and courage transcends any single aspect of their identity. The fact that it depicts a same-sex relationship with such matter-of-fact seriousness – neither apologising for it nor making it the sole focus – represented a significant achievement for 1979, even as certain aspects of that depiction now invite more critical scrutiny.
For readers interested in LGBTQ historical fiction, or indeed for anyone drawn to stories of obsessive dedication to craft and the complications of partnerships both professional and personal, The Catch Trap deserves attention. It is a novel written with confidence and care, illuminating corners of human experience that remain as relevant today as they were in the circus rings of mid-century America. Bradley’s ability to craft a narrative that is both deeply personal and broadly reflective of larger societal issues ensures that the novel resonates long after its final page.
Title: The Catch Trap
Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley
Original Publication: 1979
Current Publisher: Open Road Media
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