RT by @mikenov: J. R. Ackerley (born 4 November 1896) was a British writer, editor, literary critic, and unapologetic homosexual who devoted much of his life to the pursuit of love, sex, companionship, and the elusive “Ideal Friend.” Born Joe Ackerley in London, he came from a prosperous family with a rather flexible interpretation of conventional morality. His father, Roger, was a successful fruit merchant known as London’s “Banana King,” while his mother, Netta, was an actress. They produced three children before bothering to establish a proper household in 1903. Respectability, it seems, was something best attended to after the fact. During World War I, Joe served in the British Army, was

J. R. Ackerley (born 4 November 1896) was a British writer, editor, literary critic, and unapologetic homosexual who devoted much of his life to the pursuit of love, sex, companionship, and the elusive “Ideal Friend.”

Born Joe Ackerley in London, he came from a prosperous family with a rather flexible interpretation of conventional morality. His father, Roger, was a successful fruit merchant known as London’s “Banana King,” while his mother, Netta, was an actress. They produced three children before bothering to establish a proper household in 1903. Respectability, it seems, was something best attended to after the fact.

During World War I, Joe served in the British Army, was wounded on the Western Front, and spent several months as a prisoner of war in Germany. The experience did little to improve his opinion of mankind, although it provided excellent material for his lifelong observations of human folly.

After the war, Ackerley entered London’s literary and homosexual circles, where the distinction between the two was sometimes difficult to discern. Among his closest friends was His Éminence, E. M. Forster, whose advice on matters of the heart was considerably more sensible than anything Joe was inclined to follow. From 1935 to 1959, Ackerley served as literary editor of the BBC’s The Listener, championing such writers as W. H. Auden, Christopher Isherwood, Philip Larkin, and Stephen Spender.

His literary achievements included Hindoo Holiday (1932), a wickedly amusing account of five months spent as secretary to the Maharaja of Chhatarpur, Vishwanath Singh. His Royal Highness was himself homosexual, with a collection of obsessions and dalliances that made life at court considerably more entertaining than the average British civil servant might have expected. Ackerley’s observations of the Maharaja and the Anglo-Indians produced a delicious comedy of manners, misbehavior, and imperial absurdity.

Then came My Dog Tulip (1956), an affectionate and remarkably intimate portrait of his beloved Alsatian, Queenie, whose name he discreetly changed for publication. We Think the World of You (1960) followed, exploring love, jealousy, possessiveness, and the emotional havoc people wreak upon one another—subjects in which Joe had considerable firsthand experience.

Openly gay among his distinguished circle of fellow homosexuals, Ackerley spent decades pursuing his “Ideal Friend,” generally a handsome young working-class man whose interest in Joe was frequently more financial than romantic. Guardsmen, sailors, and laborers were particular favorites. After hearing his friend describe his elaborate rituals for picking up and entertaining these young men, Forster finally advised, “Joe, you must give up looking for gold in coal mines.” Ackerley, naturally, continued digging.

Eventually, after a lifetime of romantic disappointments, he transferred his affections to Queenie, a devoted German Shepherd who possessed several qualities conspicuously absent from his previous companions—loyalty, fidelity, unconditional affection, and absolutely no interest in his bank account. She became the great love of his life. For once, Joe’s devotion was reciprocated.

His most revealing book, My Father and Myself (1968), published posthumously, exposed the spectacular hypocrisy lurking beneath the family’s respectable exterior. Following his father’s death from syphilis in 1929—a rather emphatic conclusion to a life of discreet indulgence—Joe discovered that the Banana King had maintained a second family for twenty years. This included a mistress, Muriel Perry, and three daughters, largely abandoned to the care of a hired guardian named Miss Coutts. Apparently, Roger Ackerley had been distributing considerably more than bananas. The memoir’s unflinching examination of homosexuality, family secrets, sexual double standards, and British respectability established it as a landmark of gay autobiographical literature.

When Queenie died in 1961, Ackerley was inconsolable. Having survived war, imprisonment, romantic humiliation, and the discovery that his father was practically running a franchise operation, he found the loss of his dog almost unbearable. He contemplated suicide, drank too much, and buried himself in his memoir.

On the morning of 4 June 1967, his sister Nancy found him dead in bed, just weeks before England and Wales partially decriminalized homosexuality. After a lifetime spent defying society’s sexual conventions, Joe had just missed the law’s belated attempt to catch up with him.

J. R. Ackerley left behind a body of elegant, witty, and startlingly candid writing that exposed the absurdities of love, lust, class, and British hypocrisy. He spent most of his life looking for the perfect man, only to discover that the ideal companion had four legs, a wagging tail, and considerably better manners. 🏳️‍🌈

[Joe, left, and right, with the Banana King, c. 1913]

— @jmlx_john2 Nov 4, 2026