“Set around 1969, the tale
begins with the disappearance of a California radio personality named Fox Olson.
A failed writer, Olson finally found success as a beloved folksinger and
wholesome country raconteur with a growing national audience. The community is
therefore shocked when Olson’s car is found wrecked, having been driven off a
bridge and swept away in a fast-moving arroyo on a rainy night. A life
insurance claim is filed by Olson’s widow and the company holding the policy
sends their best man to investigate. The problem is that Olson’s body was never
found. Not in the car. Not further down the river. As Dave Brandstetter begins
his investigation he quickly finds that none of it adds up.”
It’s
rare for me to be impressed with novels (in any genre) –I’ve read lot and it’s
hard to find something refreshing. Yet, Fadeout is a stellar mystery and is
fifty years old. The first of twelve novels featuring Dave Brandstetter,
an openly gay insurance investigator who embodies the tough, no-nonsense
personality of those classic hardboiled private investigators of long ago (“After
forty years, Hammett has a worthy successor, The Times –London claimed).
I really liked this book, and
to be honest, I’m surprised that back in 1970, this book even got published by
a mainstream publishing company, Harper & Row. Mostly because Brandstetter
in no victim, he’s “contently homosexual,” as the New Yorker put it. He’s a man
who is in a public relationship with another man and is working as a detective
for his father’s insurance company. And he has a good relationship with his
father, as well, even if his Dad does not approve of his son being gay. He does nothing more than be himself, a regular guy, one who
everyone in his orbit assumes he’s straight –and feel comfortable using gay
slurs because they all assume he is not one of “them.” It was just refreshing
to read something like this and think this was released fifty-two years ago
when gay characters were always seen as merely stereotypes –effeminate,
damaged; to be killed or be the killer because their psychologically broken
because their gay and society has rejected them. By the way, if anyone is
curious, there are some subtle scenes of man-on-man action here, but it’s not
shocking as it might’ve been in 1970.
While
they’re have been other authors who have created gay detectives (Michael Nava’s
Henry Rios was one I tried to read years and years ago), it’s shocking to me
that Hansen’s Dave Brandstetter has gone by me and the rest of the world for
these fifty years. I now must read the rest.
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