A longer review may come once I have had some time to ruminate on this delightful memoir-tinged novella by Helen Wolff and the equally insightful essay by Marion Detjen that offers a deep context and history that allows us to appreciate the original work even more. I didn't know what to expect when I requested it, only that it seemed intriguing, and this feeling stayed with me even as I started the story and continued. Compulsively readable, with a rich and unique voice that was by turns charming, thoughtful, wise, feisty, and tempestuous.

It took me a few days of starting and stopping to truly immerse myself in Background for Love, but once I did, I was truly enchanted by Helen Wolff's writing. The woman on these pages did not just feel like a character in a book, but like an amalgamation of the part in all of us that make's us human. I found parts of myself reflected in her, and it only made the story all the more powerful.

Helen's writing is extraordinary, particularly in how she describe the world around her and her view of it. Her prose is delicate yet impactful, capturing moments that felt both deeply personal and universally resonant. I went into Background for Love unsure of what to expect, but ended up discovering so much love in a story that, for it's time, could only be described as boldly queer. Her independence—shaded by fear yet driven by a desire to escape, to find herself, to feel free—was inspiring both to read and to experience.

While I wished the ending hadn't come so abruptly (I could have read endlessly), it also felt fitting, like closing a chapter that was meant to end. And then came the surprise: Marion Detjen's thoughtful addition of a photograph of Helen's cottage and the deeply researched insights into her very, very interesting life. These pages revealed her remarkable history—her role as a writer and publisher in the shadow of Nazi Germany, where books like hers were burned, and voices like hers were silenced.

Detjen's contribution elevates the experience of reading, providing not just a story, but a fuller portrait of Helen herself. Through her notes, we learn about her publishing history, her resistance to having her works shared posthumously, and her courageous life navigating a world that sought to repress voices like hers. I think it's a poignant reminder of the fragility and resilience of literature, especially works that challenge the status quo.

This context transformed the book for me. Helen’s story—and the stories of women like her—deserve to be told and remembered. Her writing defies the idea that feminine, autobiographical narratives are non-creative or lesser, proving instead that they hold unparalleled depth and beauty. For me, this book was more than a story; it reignited my love for reading.

I feel so grateful this book found its way into the world, despite Helen’s reservations. It’s one of those rare works that lingers long after you turn the last page, a book you return to when you need to learn something or feel something. Thanks to Marion Detjen, we not only get to experience Helen’s artistry but also gain a profound understanding of her courage and legacy.

the dreamy tale of love, friendship, and emancipation set in a rented hut in southern France for 16 marks a month tempts one to sigh, "everything was better in the past," until the epilogue pulls you back into the grim reality of the 1930s. My personal highlight is this dialogue between the lovers:

She has just caught him with another woman after a brief separation and is struggling with her jealousy. He, however, is trying to win her back.
"Wolf," I say, "I'd rather just die. That's not a figure of speech. Fall somewhere dark and let it all be over. Do you really think she's that beautiful?"
"Yes," says Wolf.

weirdly good. reminded me of Daisy Jones and the Six.