A Queer Case (The Selby Bigge Mysteries, #1) by J.S. Holtom: A Dance with Shadows and Secrets
There’s something irresistibly alluring about a 1920s murder mystery, especially when it involves a queer sleuth navigating hidden truths. When I stumbled upon A Queer Case by J.S. Holtom, the premise instantly captivated me: a young man trapped between the expectations of society and his own identity, all while investigating a murder in the opulent yet oppressive world of post-war London. So, with eager anticipation, I dove into the pages, eager to see how Selby Bigge’s journey would unfold.
Set against the backdrop of 1929, the story introduces us to Selby, a bank clerk who finds solace in the vibrant queer nightlife of London. His double life is expertly painted, giving readers a glimpse of both his mundane existence and the thrill of new possibilities brought by Patrick, a charming scion of the upper class. Selby’s encounters with the lavish life of The Ritz and the Duker estate provide a rich, atmospheric experience, reminiscent of Agatha Christie’s finest gatherings. However, beneath the glitz and glamor, the novel doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of the time, especially the homophobia that lurked around every corner.
The murder mystery itself is woven tightly with the social tensions of the period. As Selby uncovers layers of deceit and motive among the glamorous guests at the mansion, I found myself entangled in the complexities of privilege, love, and the burdens of secrets. Holtom’s insights into the perilous dance of societal expectations and personal desires resonated deeply with me. The line, "Perverts are prone to all sorts of criminality, especially homicidal mania," while darkly humorous, pointed to the dangerous stereotypes that haunted queer individuals of that era and which made me reflect on the precariousness of identity.
On the writing style, I appreciated Holtom’s lyrical prose and his ability to create tension while immersing readers in the historical milieu. The pacing had its ebbs and flows, occasionally stumbling in scenes that felt overly drawn out for my taste, particularly those showcasing the lavish lifestyles of the upper class. Still, the witty exchanges and vivid descriptions kept my investment high. One quote that struck a chord resonated with the central theme: "Snobbery is its own worst enemy," a timely reminder that the quest for acceptance can lead to unexpected consequences.
However, while the character of Selby is compelling, I felt that the narrative stumbles a bit in not fully exploring his desires and motivations. As a reader who craves clarity on characters’ foregone conclusions, I was left yearning for a deeper understanding of Selby’s inner conflicts. Also, if Theo/Theodora, the wonderfully spiky trans character, doesn’t return in future installments, consider me reaching for those voodoo-doll needles!
Ultimately, A Queer Case is a captivating debut that intertwines mystery and the quest for self-acceptance in a world that often demands silence. I recommend it to fans of historical mysteries, especially those who appreciate works like Nicola Upson’s Josephine Tey novels—complex characters navigating treacherous waters. I walked away not only entertained but also pondering the nuances of identity and belonging in a society fraught with prejudice. As for my own longing for the next installment, I’m left hoping for more Theo and a clearer path for Selby as he unravels his own secrets amid the shadows of Hampstead Heath.
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