Dorothy Featherstone Porter (1954–2008)

This is an Australian lesbian erotic murder mystery written in verse.

Do I need to go on?

Yes, OK, the mystery is eminently guessable – and yes, all right, the poetry is a bit creaky in places – and yes, fine, the lesbian aesthetic is a bit 90s and worthy…but come on. It's an Australian lesbian erotic murder mystery written in verse.

Previous verse-novels I've read have been written in chapter-length running poetry. This one, by contrast, is made up of individual titled poems of a page or show more two each, so that reading it really does feel more like reading a poetry collection than a long poem. It's an interesting and surprisingly rewarding way of being told a story.

HER CLEVER HAND

My car cassettes clatter
at Diana's feet

“Don't you listen to boys?”

“I've spent my whole life
listening to boys.”

I answer on feminist autopilot

she crosses her legs
she's wearing a dress

I drive and perve

her calves do a silky stretch
her hand taut with blue veins

as she slots in k. d. lang

“Butch country 'n' western”
she murmurs in the raunchy riffs

“Don't you ever forget I'm a dyke?”

she slips her clever hand
between my thighs

to make me quiet.

If you're not generally a big fan of poetry, you shouldn't worry – neither is our cynical PI Jill Fitzpatrick. Much of the plot of The Monkey's Mask revolves around the Sydney poetry scene, and Porter has enormous fun pastiching the style of student poets or the kind of minor celebrities that like to wow the middle classes at public readings.

We shake hands
and I'm stuck

how do you talk to poets?

I'm not known for my love
of fluffy clouds
fields of daffodils
or brumbies on a moonlit night

give me a good bottle of wine
a woman with spit and spark
and the Trifecta at Randwick

As you can see, Porter makes good use of the Australian vernacular – there are references in here to koels, chooks, middies, and innumerable kinds of women from ‘ex-Mulawa koories / To Toorak lipstick dykes’.

I mean, there are all kind of reasons to like this, and most of the potential criticisms just feel ungenerous. For god's sake, it's an Australian lesbian erotic murder mystery written in verse. show less

This is an erotic mystery/thriller in verse and it's brilliant. I read this several years ago and loved it and after just recently having written a paper about the intersection of crime fiction and gender identity, I thought I might pick it up again for the pleasure of it.
The text is written by an Australian author and is peppered with quite a few Australianisms, but Porter has kindly provided a glossary for any of you who might need one ;).
The words flow with such intensity, and each show more chapter feels like a sudden intake of breath and you might find yourself trying to race the words. Read it once, quickly, follow the shotgun rhythm, then go back with a nice cup of coffee (this coming from a tea freak, no less) and lap at the words for all their cleverness and punch. show less

The subtitle of THE MONKEY'S MASK -- AN EROTIC MURDER MYSTERY is intriguing, but even more intriguing is that the novel is written in a series of 186 poems divided into 12 chapters. Almost all the poems can stand by themselves, while carrying on a fast-paced narrative.

Lesbian PI Jill Fitzpatrick is investigating the death of nineteen-year old Mickey, a university student. Along the way she is attracted to Diana Maitland, Mickey's creative writing professor, and is introduced to the Sydney show more poetry scene. Mickey's poetry describes a rather sordid love affair with an older poet -- or perhaps more than one.

The poetry of the novel is both raucous and contemplative, shot through with Australian local color and slang.

Spring

The spring trees
like Cracker Night sparklers

all over Sydney

every garden
every dead street
littered

under this flower fire

am I in love again?

my hands and heart
aching

for blossom
for wild wild risk.

Porter's verse novel takes the conventions of a hard-edged detective novel and infuses them with the intensity of vivid poetic hues. show less

It takes a certain type of genius to think of something like this -- a lesbian, erotic mystery written wholly in verse. It takes, perhaps, a different kind of genius to bring it off without it seeming like a stunt. Yet Dorothy Porter actually has done both.