Overall 3.5 / 5.0 (promising but fails to deliver a high-impact story)
Gay Inclusive? Very – protagonist is gay, and the mystery takes him into London’s 18th Century gay underworld
Gay Positive? Mostly – the era is definitely not gay positive, but the author’s treatment of the gay content is.

Set in 1757, Lord John Grey is the head of his family’s household until his elder brother Hal returns from a military appointment abroad. As a result, Grey has some responsibility to protect his cousin Olivia, who is engaged to marry well-to-do merchant Joseph Trevelyan, whom Grey believes to be “poxed” with syphilis. At that time in history, syphilis occupied the role HIV/AIDS does today. Worse, in fact: it was incurable, and contracting the illness virtually guaranteed the most unpleasant sort of death.

Meanwhile, another mystery erupts: it appears that vital British state secrets have been lost and might be sold to the French. Grey is tasked with investigating the crime to figure out what happened, who was involved and how to recover the lost secrets before it’s too late.

I enjoyed reading a gay-inclusive mystery set in a period of time about which I know little. Author Diana Gabaldon has done her research (in fact, she is well-known for her historical research), and I learned quite a bit about the history of gay people in Georgian England. She also includes a list of resources for anyone who wants to dig deeper and learn more.

The mystery is mildly interesting, but unfortunately fails to captivate. I was never sufficiently invested in the characters or events such that the story’s twists would have me on the edge of my seat.

Although generally sympathetic, the main character never comes alive. Apparently Lord John is supposed to be young and handsome, but he reads like he’s 60. Whenever his handsomeness was mentioned, it was always kind of jarring, because I had forgotten he was supposed to be young and winsome. That indicates a characterization disconnect.

Lord John is a secondary character from Gabaldon’s better know Outlander series (which I have never read). Reviewer Susan Scribner of TheRomanceReader.com comments,

I like Lord John throughout the Outlander series he has always come across as sympathetic, complex and slightly tormented, but this story doesn’t shed much new light on his core character. He’s always been a bit of an enigma, and he remains elusive.

That’s problematic when Grey is at the center of the story and occupies nearly every page of the tale. Considering Gabaldon’s exquisite attention to historical detail, I would expect a multilayered character of depth and unexpected internal contradictions. Instead, we find someone who is genteel and devoted to duty, and that’s about it. Even his gayness, which he must keep secret given the social mores of the time period, fails to render him more than mildly interesting.

At the same time, the story hints at repressed passions and an undercurrent of powerful emotions. Perhaps future stories will allow Lord John to unfold more fully as a human being caught in multiple traps: the repressive social standards of the era, the excruciating necessity of maintaining a pristine image in his social class and the painful denial of a loving, committed relationship.

In fact, I was dying for Grey to get some action! I hoped his new valet, Tom Byrd, would develop a requited attraction to his master. But no. Nothing. The most important romance in the novel – which the reader doesn’t really delve into until the end – is heterosexual.

On the whole, I find this book to be promising, but little else. I hope that Gabaldon grows into this genre, and that future volumes chronicling Lord John Grey do him justice.

Overall Quality 3.0 / 5.0 (cute, but not really my cup of tea)
Gay Content 1.5 / 5.0 (minor mentions)
Gay Positivity 2.0 / 5.0 (ranges from neutral to mildly negative)

I decided to try some straight supernatural romance novels for a change of pace, so this volume is a bit outside my usual reading domain. Single White Vampire is the light-hearted story of Lucern Argeneau, a handsome if surly vampire who writes his family history as fiction novels, and his persistent editor Kate Leever, who is determined to get the reclusive Luc to do some promotional work for his books.

The humor keeps the story afloat; otherwise, I found the plot to be a bit too light and fluffy for my taste. Not enough real drama or tension to sink my teeth into. So to speak. Ahem.

The author’s take on vamps: they’re actually descendents of the technologically advanced civilization of the lost city of Atlantis. A scientist created a kind of nanite (a microscopic robot) that is so efficient at repairing human tissue it virtually stops aging and makes the person extremely long-lived. The downside is that the nanites require blood to work. The Argeneau clan run a blood bank, and they consume blood from blood bags, rather than hunting humans.

The book contains some minor gay content of questionable positivity.

• In the beginning, Kate wonders if Luc is gay. “What kind of guy wrote romances? And vampire romances at that? She had decided it was probably someone gay … or someone weird” (p. 16).
• Later, Luc wonders if Kate’s fellow romance novel editor Chris is gay. He says, “You are a romance editor. That is a woman’s job” (p. 138). The response: “Ah.” Chris grinned. “But you write them. Are you gay?” (p. 138).
• Finally, in one of the book’s funniest scenes, Luc is on a Quest for condoms, and he ends up in Chris’s room at the hotel where they’re all staying, when room service delivers the condoms. The bellhop clearly thinks the condoms are for Chris and Luc. “Chris whipped around to face Lucern, horror dawning on his face. ‘He thinks we – that you and I – he…’ He was almost incoherent with horror” (287).

The first couple of mentions don’t really bother me, even though they clearly associate gayness with weirdness and femininity. The story is too silly to take too seriously. Besides, both Chris and Luc defy stereotype by being straight.

The last scene does irritate me, however. “He was almost incoherent with horror” at the thought that some nameless stranger he’ll never see again, who was perfectly friendly, has the mistaken impression that he digs guys. Are you kidding me? That’s just plain homophobic. It’s not even in character for Chris. The author was just playing the scene for laughs. The whole thing is too inane to be offensive, but I still found that bit off-putting. (I’ll also point out that the only instances of inclusion are references; no gay characters or real content … but consider the intended demographic. I ain’t it!)

Recommended for fans of light-hearted, supernatural (and straight) romance novels.

Overall Quality 3.5 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 1.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 2.0 / 5.0

I enjoyed this novel, but it is not Simmons’ best work. That said, he is one of my favorite authors. If you are new to his books, start with “Hyperion” (if you like Sci-Fi) or “Summer of Night” (if you’re a horror fan).

“Ilium” stands as one of the most unusual Sci-Fi reads I’ve enjoyed in a long time. The narrative follows three overlapping threads. First, on Mars we find the Greek gods enacting or re-enacting the Trojan War (explicitly, “The Iliad” as written by Homer). These gods seem suspiciously high-tech. Unfortunately for them, thanks to our intrepid scholar-protagonist Thomas Hockenberry, events don’t go quite as planned. Second, the reader follows a group of sentient robots from Jupiter, who travel to Mars because of dangerous quantum distortions emanating from the planet. Finally, human civilization on Earth has seemingly returned to the semi-dark ages, and a group of old-style humans are trying to re-discover the universe.

The three storylines dovetail nicely with each other, and I liked the skillful juxtaposition of history, literature, philosophy, and Sci-Fi. Welcome to science fiction for college professors!

Simmons has mastered the art of raising intriguing questions while offering just enough tantalizing answers to keep the reader hooked. Who are the post-humans? Are the Greek gods post-humans, or something else? What happened to the old-style humans? What are the mysterious voynix? How is Odysseus apparently existing in two places at once? How and why can the old-style humans on Earth “watch” the re-enactment of the Trojan War? Simmons tends to end each chapter with the reader hanging on some important question or dramatic plot point; it can be hard to put this novel down.

On the other hand, I found myself skimming quite a bit. A lot of the conversations (which I assume he intended to be thought-provoking or literary) are prosaic and off-putting. I also felt strung along at times: there’s a fine line between withholding information to create tension and doing so to drag the story out. Simmons also occasionally gets lost in the minutia, for example, when the Jovian robots navigate the Martian seas.

Note that the novel ends with a cliffhanger. The story concludes in “Olympos.”

On the whole, “Ilium” presents an unusual and well-written read. I would recommend it for science fiction devotees, or fans of Homer’s “The Iliad” who are open to Sci-Fi. If you like this novel, definitely try Simmons’ stellar “Hyperion” series as well.

Regarding gay content, to my surprise the author makes several explicit references to homosexuality. Nevertheless, most of the mentions are brief: no characters are clearly gay, and there doesn’t appear to be any gay subtext in the novel, so I rated the Content Scale very low. Similarly, while Simmons never crosses the line into blatant homophobia, his comments hardly qualify as positive.

His novel involves several historical persons who are known or rumored to be gay, such as Shakespeare, Proust, and Achilles/Patroclus. In most cases, Simmons dismisses the theory. In fact, in one sequence one of the robot characters speaks with Shakespeare (don’t ask; it’s science fiction) and explicitly asks the Bard, who reacts violently. In the case of Achilles/Patroclus, the author allows some homoeroticism to exist between them but clearly (through sex acts) establishes them as heterosexual.

The overarching vibe of these mentions is that straight somehow trumps gay. His dismissive and lowbrow use of gay references disappoints me.

Yawn. The first book in the Simon Kirby-Jones mystery series, “Posted to Death” (2002) was a cute, mild mystery. The follow-up “Faked to Death” is plain boring.

In the story, Simon finds himself at a writer’s conference involving more than its fair share of scheming. In fact, the most obvious chicanery affects him directly: Simon is an author who writes under a couple of pen names, including Dorinda Darlington. To his surprise, a “Dorinda Darlington” shows up to participate in the conference, only to wind up murdered. Our hero Simon must unravel the web of deceit and blackmail to uncover the truth.

The only point of interest in the story that kept my attention was the sexual and romantic tension between Simon and his assistant, the young and hunky Giles Blitherington, who has a massive crush on his employer. Simon recognizes Giles’ appeal but feels discretion is the better part of valor, at least for the moment. Particularly given that Simon is a vampire, and he’s not sure how Giles will react to that news.

But he’s a vampire the way a castrato is a man. Simon takes pills which eliminates his need to feed on blood and weakness to sunlight but also eliminates his ability to change shape or move with preternatural speed. In fact, his vampiricism affects the story in only one respect: he doesn’t want to be shot because he doesn’t want to have to explain why there would be no blood and why he wouldn’t die. In fact, I think the story would have been much more interesting, edgier, if Simon had more traditional vampiric characteristics. But then, maybe it wouldn’t be a “cozy,” a sub-genre of mystery that emphasizes light-heartedness and little-to-no violence.

This book shares one weakness with its predecessor. It’s set in England, and most of the characters are English, but the protagonist Simon and another character (Ashford Dunn) are American. But they still talk like Britons. For example, Ashford using the word “potty” at one point to describe someone as crazy or loony. “Potty” is not American slang, and I found it distracting that the American characters don’t sound American to me.

On the positive side, the reader will find no gay angst or other negative gay portrayals here. A few of the secondary characters evince some anti-gay attitudes through a thinly veiled comment here and there, but they’re very minor points.

See also:

James, Dean. “Posted to Death” (2002)

“Bourbon Street Blues” is a cute, light, and entertaining mystery worthy of the beach. The protagonist Scotty is nearly thirty but still just wants to have a good time. Laissez les bon temps roulez! But when a sorta friend of his turns up dead on his doorstep, and he finds a mysterious computer disk in his shoe (at one point, he even carries a whole cell phone in his shoe – one of several minor points that stretch credulity), Scotty finds himself embroiled in a much larger plot. Add into the mix that Scotty is psychic, a gift from the “Goddess,” and we have an offbeat mystery.

The plot is stretched thin, and the author seems more interested in details about the characters’ bodies than in fleshing out their personalities or backgrounds. I am well aware of exactly how beautiful (or not beautiful) each character is. I am less sure of what makes them tick.

And although the author tries very hard to conjure the feeling of New Orleans for the reader, I never really felt immersed in that world. Herren incorporates some otherworldliness into the story with Scotty’s visions and Tarot cards, but the author never delves into the city’s history and reputation for voodoo, hauntings, etc. As a result, he misses a great opportunity to add atmosphere to the story.

Nevertheless, I liked the book as an easy, quick vacation read. Its characters engaged me just enough that I’ll check out the inevitable sequels.

I liked the fact that the novel and its protagonist are very gay-positive. Though it’s never quoted, I nevertheless hear the slogan, “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.” When I score a book or movie for its gay positivity, I ask, “Are the gay characters down on themselves?” Not at all in this book.

I also ask, “Are these characters good role-models? Would I want these people in my life?” I hesitate here. The protagonist is smart, clever, and charming. He’s also, by his own admission, a promiscuous tramp. Other characters are frequent drug users and/or drinkers. Realistic? More so than I like to admit. Gay positive? Er, well, um, I like that Scotty is unapologetic about his sexuality.

The plot centers around a militant Christian running for governor of Louisiana. He believes New Orleans is a modern day Sodom, and he’s concocted a fiendish plan to “cleanse” the city of its sinners. It’s interesting that the characters portrayed are those who most aptly fit this guy’s vision of gay life: a superficial, self-destructive, and eternally adolescent culture that revolves around youth, beauty, sex, drugs, and alcohol.

Absent are the gay people who more closely embody most of middle America. And yet, even those guys can easily descend into the stereotypical culture when they let loose for a party like Southern Decadence. I don’t mean to suggest Herren’s portrayal of the gay characters is off-base or unrealistic (although it’s definitely not comprehensive, but no single book could be). That’s also not the question. Is it a positive portrayal?

Despite being a light, vaguely trashy read, the juxtaposition of a crazy right-winger with the exact element of gay culture he decries suggests deeper questions. The obvious theme of the novel is to live and let live. It’s not his place to judge the lives of these gay characters. So I shouldn’t either. And is that what I’m doing when I score down on the gay positivity because I don’t like the way they live their lives? There are all kinds of people, and I believe every person has the right to live their life as they best see fit. Diversity is the engine of spiritual evolution.

But here it is: I don’t like stereotypes or self-destructive behavior. I like a strong sense of self and valuing oneself as a gay person. All of those are present in this novel, leading to a mixed score on the Gay Positivity scale.