Category Archives: Reviews

A novel reckoning: five crime stories ignited by a gay-hate inquiry

THE NEW SOUTH Wales Special Commission of Inquiry into LGBTIQ Hate Crimes was a world-first judicial process that took place from 2022 to 2023.

In his final report to the state government, Commissioner Justice John Sackar summed up by stating, “There is always a risk that history such as this will fade from – or never truly enter – the broader public consciousness, and even the consciousness of members of the LGBTIQ community who did not live through this period”.

“The history of violence against the LGBTIQ community is an ugly one, but the trauma to and resilience of the LGBTIQ community through that period should have enduring recognition.”

Interesting examples of this consciousness are starting to appear in Australian crime writing, after a significant deficit of fiction that tackles gay-hate, includes gay characters, or at the very least has any reference to the state’s history of gay-hate crimes.

Such themes appear in these five titles to differing degrees, in the hands of authors who are LGBTIQA+ and those who are not. Queer characters at the height of the HIV-AIDS epidemic; gay journalists on the hunt for the truth; historical identities from Sydney’s crimey past, and homosexual cops.

Australia’s most courageous book publishers, distributors, booksellers and authors are digging deep to bring gay-hate stories into the mainstream. Time to get reading …

The Trap by Fiona Kelly McGregor

The gay-hate crime inquiry examined several historical deaths that took place at gay beats, very often public toilets. Such analysis was necessarily sterile, but McGregor’s novel puts the mysteries of queer cruising and entrapment into visceral focus. Wartime Sydney, 1942. In the half-light of brownouts, the city’s queers are prone to a nexus of ambitious police, toothless reporters and corrupt legal eagles. McGregor follows the fortunes of black, queer nightclub manager Ray Sayles, entrapped by cops in a cruel sting that runs right to the very top of the force, the media and the judiciary. McGregor’s raw blend of history and sexual politics makes this startlingly familiar.

Finding the Bones by Natalie Conyer

There’s just no credible way to portray crimey 1980s Sydney without including queer characters, and Conyer lines up a cast of cops, newshounds, crooks and misfits in this, her third crime novel. The plot reimagines Sydney’s reaction if the body of activist Juanita Nielsen – real-life bane of developers and organised crime bosses – was ever discovered. Conyer’s Nielsen stand-in is the feisty and alluring Belle Fitzgerald, friend and confidante of Nelson Guthrie, gay sex worker and former student of Belle’s who holds several pivotal secrets about organised crime, police corruption and hate crimes in Darlinghurst and King’s Cross. There are just too many spoilers in describing Nelson’s pivotal role in this crime cracker!

Death in the Gardens by Michael Duffy

In the opening of this Blue Mountains-set cozy mystery, a mention of the hate-crime inquiry is an example of what Justice Sackar hoped for in his report: that the homophobic crime wave is simply remembered. Keen gardener Serena Ives and local newspaper editor Bella Greaves meet at Leura’s Everglades after the discovery of disturbing graffiti. Bella places the womens’ last encounter in the 1980s by recalling the spate of violent gay death in Sydney at the time; but Duffy backs up his recurring sleuth’s memory by having her connect the dots with the announcement of the hate-crime inquiry the day before. Truth and resonance in one innocuous scene is all it takes to be inclusive.

Redbelly Crossing by Candice Fox

This one makes the list because of the courageous manner in which author and publisher have centred the trauma of a gay serving cop, DI Russell Powder, in a bestselling piece of commercial fiction. Queer cops are rare in popular culture, very often they are victims or problematic anti-heroes (think Al Pacino as Detective Steve Burns in William Friedkin’s 1980 movie Cruising). But Redbelly Crossing shows the degree to which the hate-crime inquiry can alter the stakes in Australian crime fiction, when it tackles the emotional landscape of gay men who also happen to be police officers. The result: no visible decline in a major author’s trajectory, for a book described by Sisters in Crime as, “one of Candice’s best.”

Dirt Trap by Michael Burge

“It’s been 20 years since the death of James Brandt’s cousin Tony, the first love of his life, and through that entire time his passing has been labelled a suicide – alongside several others in the small rural community of Kippen. Now, there is a major NSW inquiry into the deaths of same-sex-attracted men, with a particular focus on regional deaths. Michael Burge’s decision to return to the setting of his first novel, Tank Water, was inspired and driven by the recent NSW inquiry into LGBTIQ+ hate crimes. A captivating sequel, filled with genuine characters and heartfelt sincerity for the ongoing struggle of the regional LGBTIQ+ community and cements Burge’s place in the Australian noir genre.” – Glen Christie, Glam Adelaide

Queering the book trade: five LGBTIQA-themed reads to look out for

SAME-SEX ATTRACTION HAS cropped up in Australian literature since the dawn of our publishing industry, when queer characters were heavily coded yet highly visible when you knew how to read the signs.

From the middle of the 20th century, we stepped a bit further out of the margins into tales like Kenneth Cook’s Wake in Fright (1961), although the roles were small, mainly stereotypical villains and helpless victims. Happy endings for queers were in very short supply.

Decades on, a shift is underway, and you’ll observe it in just about every section of your favourite bookshop. Exhibit A: this short list of works in the publishing supply chain right now.

Queer characters crop up in these titles as family units and courageous protagonists; in sexual encounters and chaste romances, and as parents, children, siblings, colleagues and more. I could analyse whether such portrayals are authentic or run very deep. I could explore which of these authors sits where on the LGBTIQA+ spectrum, if at all…

But all of that is beside the point, which is that Australia’s most courageous book publishers, distributors, booksellers and authors are digging deep to bring queer stories into the mainstream. Just get reading…

My Heart at Evening by Konrad Muller

Former convict Jorgen Jorgensen is tasked with investigating the apparent suicide of English surveyor, architect and explorer Henry Hellyer in colonial Van Diemen’s Land. Pitting its characters against the harsh 1830s frontier, Muller’s debut novel unpicks a web of silence and inconsistent evidence that saw Hellyer beleaguered by gossip about his sexual liaisons with male convicts. Ramping up gradually via its tense, tender and detailed prose, this evocative colonial mystery is the first release from Tasmanian imprint Evercreech Editions, and forces us to question whether Hellyer’s death was one of the earliest cases of homophobic retribution masked as self harm. 

Swallow by Alexandria Burnham

Garry Wotherspoon’s research into explosive archived love letters between 19th century seamen Matthew Flinders and George Bass, and bushrangers Captain Moonlite and James Nesbitt, unleashed a long-overdue queer gaze on the Australian colonial experiment. Now, Alexandria Burnham’s heartfelt and feisty tale of high-seas adventure and high-stakes love joins the growing ranks of historical fiction brave enough to portray complex and endearing same sex-attracted characters living in one of the country’s toughest eras. From the WestWords stable, platforming the people, places and cultures that comprise the heart of Western Sydney.

Haze by Sam Elliott

This gripping debut blazes a new trail into Australian rural noir. With intense, action-packed prose, Elliott throws the reader into a rural community blasted apart by bushfire, on the heels of the fierce, loyal, humane and unique Constable Dahlia Turner. While some locals cry arson, Dahlia fights to focus on the heinous murder and missing child that lead to far more uncomfortable truths. Haze tackles the lawlessness of country towns, but this is no moral crusade, because Elliott explores Dahlia’s courageous journey to confront similar aspects in herself. An engaging portrayal of 21st century rural life from PanMacmillan Australia, which gave rise to queer Australian author Hayley Scrivenor.

Dark Desert Road by Tim Ayliffe

In a completely new direction for Ayliffe, hitherto master of global espionage fiction, this fast-paced novel takes readers from the heart of Sydney into the badlands of the Riverina with child-protection cop Kit McCarthy, on a mission to rescue her twin sister Billie. There’s a dark history in this family: war crimes, domestic violence and conspiracy theories have broken the McCarthys irretrievably. As Kit digs deep for the sake of a nephew she’s just discovered, chilling evidence makes it clear that Billie has reinvented herself from happy-go-lucky city chick into a separatist intent on destruction. A relentless chase into the heart of sovereign citizenry from Echo Publishing.

The Watchnight by Michael Burge

“A refreshingly original historical crime novel. Journalist and novelist Michael Burge weaves together facts with riveting fiction, breathing life into a forgotten pocket of Australian history. With elegant prose and intriguing, conflicted characters, he tells a mesmerising tale that’s anchored in the beauty and brutality of a tiny rural outpost in the 1850s. Its strengths are due in part to the setting, a Methodist community in rural NSW during the gold rush; the depiction of a beautiful relationship between a Burra Burra woman and an Irish woman; and a gripping plot that explores complex questions of crime, forgiveness and faith in the 1850s.” – author Poppy Gee. Now available from Unicorn Press.

Take Another Look: The ‘passionate absurdities’ of James Lapine’s Impromptu

The fourth in a series of retrospective pop culture reviews revisits the historical romance that reignited the careers of Judy Davis and Hugh Grant…


TWO-THIRDS OF THE way through James Lapine’s 1990 film Impromptu, Mandy Patinkin (as 19th century French poet Alfred de Musset) stretches his face towards the camera in full clown whiteface and viciously shuts down his flaky colleague Hugh Grant (as Polish composer Frédéric Chopin), shouting, “Art never apologises!”

It heralds an explosive turning point in screenwriter Sarah Kernochan’s reimagining of the notorious affair between French writer George Sand (played with pants-wearing, gun-toting, acrobatic gusto by Judy Davis) and sickly Chopin (in the hands of comedically brittle Grant).

Legends of the 19th century’s French Romantic era have joined Sand, Chopin, de Musset, composer Franz Liszt (Julian Sands), writer Marie d’Agoult (Bernadette Peters), and painter Eugène Delacroix (Ralph Brown) at the bucolic retreat of patron Duchess d’Antan (Emma Thompson).

SCREEN SAND Judy Davis

In a black comedy akin to Peter’s Friends meets Dangerous Liaisons, picnics, croquet and illicit sex punctuate Madame Sand’s escapades from former lovers. All the while she simply wants to seduce the man behind the music: the phlegmatic and reclusive Chopin.

He represents a higher form of expression to the brash novelist’s hungry heart. Trapped by a seemingly unconquerable object of desire, the great feminist novelist meets her match, and in the fallout of this summer jaunt Impromptu finds its feet as an original and compelling romance.

Romantic Heroism

The film contains several treats, particularly Thompson’s early comedic turn as the hilarious Duchess d’Antan; and Elizabeth Spriggs as an enthusiastic fan who corners Sand just as Chopin’s music really starts to beguile her.

There was near-universal critical praise for Judy Davis in another career-defining portrayal of a writer at a very different stage of her career to the aspiring Sybylla Melvyn in My Brilliant Career (1979). 

“A great actress in a great role,” wrote Terrence Rafferty in The New Yorker. “Davis makes Sand’s passionate absurdities both funny and tremendously moving; this woman’s willingness to embarrass herself seems a kind of romantic heroism.”

Davis stepped up to play the unconventional Sand at a critical time of her career, and put an heroic effort into promoting her first international lead role since A Passage to India, the production that left her with that ‘difficult actress’ reputation.

A 1991 interview with the Los Angeles Times from a Hollywood hotel reads a bit like a charm offensive. Confined to the descriptor of “Australian actress”, Davis delivered several bombshells that can be read as a form of art in a state of apology.

Her up-front explanation to the notorious clash with “autocratic” British director David Lean (“we got into an actual screaming match in India”) came the very month of the movie titan’s death. This is counterpointed with revelations about Impromptu, shot entirely in France with a director who did not speak the language, “a recipe for disaster” dodged due to Lapine’s “staying power”, according to Davis.

Yet despite her picking up an Independent Spirit Award for best actress, in a role that amplified Davis’ independence, Impromptu failed to outsell its modest budget.

Discordant Twits

Some critics focussed on the director’s inexperience. Renowned for his Pulitzer Prize-winning libretto of the Broadway premier of Sunday in the Park With George (complete with Peters and Patinkin in a Sondheim masterpiece exploring France, art and love) Lapine’s film debut came off as lacking in big-screen technique.

CHOPIN LISZT Julian Sands and Hugh Grant

“When he introduces the music of Chopin and Liszt into the proceedings, the effect isn’t revelatory, it’s discordant,” wrote Peter Rainer in the Los Angeles Times. “It’s impossible to believe that such sounds could have issued from such twits.”

Yet Rafferty found more nuance in Grant’s performance, a precursor of portrayals to come: “A brilliant caricature of the Romantic ideal of the artist; he gives the character an air of befuddled unworldliness.”

Kernochan might have put one of the Romantic era’s greatest mysteries on the page – exploring why the reticent Chopin succumbed to the steamroller Sand – but Hugh Grant and Judy Davis came into their own portraying it.

Drawing on Sand’s strength, Chopin fronts up to a duel with one of her former lovers. He fails miserably and she picks up the pieces, but left to their own devices in a rural farmhouse (designed with exquisite simplicity by art director Gérard Daoudal) Sand and Chopin are finally able to work themselves free of artifice.

By then, she’s adopted her real name, Aurora, and taken to dresses (Jenny Beavan’s outstanding work). He shrugs off his shyness in a tender and unpredictable bedroom scene where, as it turns out, artists do apologise when they seek true connection.

In the hands of key creatives Lapine and Kernochan – a spousal team in a rare collaboration – Impromptu says much about the meeting of minds that is possible for artistic couples.

Chopin allowed Grant to realise his potential as a leading man who can embrace his pathetic side, and Sand gave Davis the opportunity to transcend her independent reputation by owning it.

Impromptu is streaming on Apple TV.