“A Queer Case” by Robert Holtom Is a Delightful Historical Mystery

As one who loves British murder mysteries, yer boy Hank here is used to "our kind of people" being non-existent for the most part when it comes to the classics of Agatha Christie and the like, or politely relegated to the side as minor characters when it comes to contemporary titles. I'm not even going to mention the trope of making us the big baddie. Looking at you, Silence of the Lambs. Yes, I know, there are a lot of genre titles that have queer characters, but they all grate me in some way. The gays are either irritatingly stereotypical or turned into the queer version of the "Magical Negro" and can do just about anything - except have romantic relationships and *gasp* have sex! A Queer Case by London-based writer Robert Holtom is a refreshingly honest and funny murder mystery set amongst the mostly upper-crust of London in 1929. And being set in 1929, it's also grounded in that time's prejudices.

Full disclosure, I normally don't go for specifically queer literature. I've always found it too overly earnest to make a point with unrealistic characters, overly sentimental, or there was simply too much preaching to the choir. But I really enjoyed spending time with protagonist and Selby Bigge, a lower-middle-class banking clerk with Oxford in his past and not much to look forward to besides boarding room living with his nosy landlady, and the occasional shag in Hampstead Heath, the famed London park where men could, well, meet each other for stolls in the bushes and woods...and "public utilities." What Selby really yearns for is love that can be expressed outside of the hidden corners and secret dark places.

How lovely to be able to look like that at someone across a crowded room full of strangers without the least bit of self-consciousness or worry. To be able to touch someone else's hand, maybe even kiss them on the cheek, and not fear any recriminations. For the possibility of police involvement to seem so palpably absurd, it wouldn't even be given a thought.

These are Selby's thoughts as he looks upon Patrick, a man he shared a kiss with back in his Oxford days, whom he coincidentally meets again, years later, on a park bench during one of his cruises. Patrick, a man with his own secrets, lives with his father, Sir Lionel, in a large manse adjacent to the park. Oh, how convenient. Patrick uses his charm to lure Selby into a contrivance to find out if his very young step-mother is after his father's money. It turns out step-mom Lucinda has her own tainted past, more reason for Patrick's loathing of her. When Lucinda is strangled at Lionel's birthday party, to which Selby has earned an invitation, that's when things really get interesting!

This could have been a very run-of-the-mill mystery, with the air filled with the stench of red herrings being tossed every which way. But what makes this all work so well is Holtom's ability to capture your attention, not simply with the fast pace of his writing and a clever murder mystery that keeps you guessing, but with the world he recreates and the repressive historical truths that Selby has to live in. 1929 wasn't great for us queers in England, with the threat of imprisonment around every corner for even the suspicion of homosexuality. You had to go to Germany for a more open and accepting atmosphere. And if you know your history, you know that that wouldn't last very long either!

Don't worry, Selby is still getting some, especially from a handsome gent with a questionable work history named Arthur, who pops in and out for a roll in the bushes, or an interrupted rub and tug on a Sunday morning when Selby's landlady is off to church.  And of course, there are his feelings for Patrick that spark up again after so many years. But just how much love does Patrick have to give when he's so sadly repressed and has no love for himself? There's a lot of love to go around, but few are willing to look for it or recognise it. And this seems to go for the straight couples as well as the "inverts" and "Sapphics." Maybe it's simply because this is England? As Selby's fast-forming friend Theodora, who also goes by Theo when in the right manly outfit, says, "Men do not love, they possess....and women do not love, they fear."

The writer enjoying Hampstead Heath:

There is a lot of humor throughout to keep things light and bubbly. Holtom especially loves giving Selby a naughty inner dialogue, finding sexual innuendo in the least likely places. In one scene, he's being interrogated by a detective and his lackey, who trade veiled homophobic threats as to what happens to people like Selby, whom they only suspect at this point. Did the cop recognise Selby from the park toilets that one afternoon? As they both stare at him, Selby thinks: "I could feel the constable's eyes drilling into the back of my head as the chief inspector's drilled into the front, the worst possible sort of drilling."

Holtom is great at whiplashing you between cold reality and arid-dry snark:

Since beating the Hun, England needed an enemy and, alongside the foreigner, what better one than that effeminate abomination to mankind who liked nothing more than seducing the menfolk, recruiting the children, and now, strangling the women! Being Scottish didn't help him much, either.

His characters rise above stock stereotypes. Sir Lionel comes close to revealing some sort of affection for a previous fellow soldier in the trenches of WWI. Theodora lives partially as a man as an escape from womanhood, and also for fun. Secret affections run rampant at all levels of society, from the higher classes to their servants. Patrick, to whom Tehodora is engaged as a cover for them both, suffers genuine anguish over his true self. And out of all of this secrecy comes murder! Because, as Theodora says, "It's hard. Keeping secrets."

Holtom gives ample reasons why the romantic ideal Selby craves may not be so ideal after all, given the examples of straight coupledom presented to him throughout the story. So he goes back to focus on a key element of gay life back then and offers up a simple and eloquent reason for why men like Selby and Patrick cruise the parks and public bathrooms, a reason that is bred from their time and home life. And one which is not completely gone nowadays:

Autumn on the Heath is typically associated with beauty before buggery, but for men such as myself, we risk to touch despite the falling leaves. What else are we to do? Most of us rent rooms in homes with nosy landladies, always listening at walls with upturned glasses and biblical judgements, or we have the misfortune of still living with our families....We are criminals wherever we are and our homes are often more dangerous than the Heath. So we take to the streets, the alleyways, cinemas, woods, toilets, and any place that might provide a moment of cover for a moment of connection.

A Queer Case came out last year, and as its subtitle implies, "A Selby Bigge Mystery," it's the first of a series. Mr. Holtom's Instagram page has evidence that a sequel is on its way in June of this year, and I, for one, am eager to catch up with Selby, the bon vivant Theodora, her conniving aunt, and even that exasperating Patrick. And to find out if Arthur returns from France!

You can bet I will be reviewing this sometime this summer!

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