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 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.… (mere)

Modern Australian poet. Focus on mortality. Not surprising given it was written between diagnosis and treatment for cancer(successful) and her death 5 years later. I have to admit I am not a fan of most modern poetry and this is not an exception. I pity the kids who have it as a school text. Many references to classical poets , which I feel cannot be appreciated without also reading their work (Keats, Blake, Wordsworth to name a few).
I some times got the impression that the occasional profanity was put in deliberately to "shock". It feels like it doesn't actually fit. Writers seem to forget that those words are no longer shocking they just come across as crass and out of sync.
I gave an extra star because the poems were short. I like short poetry.… (mere)

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 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.… (mere)