Meet Nyla Wade, lesbian and reporter. In this tale, Nyla explores the past murder of two lesbians and finds a rich lesbian heritage, gay political allies, new friendships and love.
First off, let's be fair here - it's dated. This is a queer book from another time when the landscape was a lot different. And that's not the only thing about it that feels dated as one of the important characters is consistently described with the r word. So maybe you can set that aside to go back forty years, maybe you can't, but fair warning.
Beyond that though it's actually an interesting and moving story about community in the background of a murder mystery, and it brings back memories of what queer literature did for us before you could have hot new releases with gay characters that get top billing in any bookstore.
This book was somewhat of a letdown; not because it was so much worse than the first novel in the series, but because it wasn’t much better. Although McConnell uses the same historical plot device she used in Mrs. Porter’s Letter, the results come out less satisfactorily.
Nyla Wade has moved from Denver, Colorado to Burnton, Oregon, to work on a weekly newspaper called the Burnton Beckoner. She becomes interested in a castle near the shore, a local landmark owned by two lesbians who were murdered there a year earlier. She becomes friends with the man who inherited the castle, a gay man named Perry Truman, along with his friends Seth Randolph and his sister Lucy, who seem to be the only other gay folk in Burnton.
Nyla decides to write a feature article on the castle and, if she can, find out the truth about who murdered the two women. In the midst of all this, she and Lucy fall in love and become a couple.
Remember now, Nyla has only just recognized her own attraction for women and, aside from a brief kiss in the first book, has never been with a woman. Yet her first night spent with Lucy goes by swimmingly—and without a second thought. Without even a first thought. We hear no inner dialogue about what she will do in bed with a woman, no conversation with Lucy about her sexual past—nothing to make the scenes, and her feelings, realistic. This is a major omission, and very disappointing because I like Nyla and her fierce and natural concern for oppressed minorities. Her lack of inner feeling and contemplation, though, makes everything seem contrived.
And much of it really is contrived, from the murder motive to the little celebration at the end where dozens of gays and lesbians form a vehicle blockade to prevent a wrecker ball from destroying the castle. The more I think about this book, the more I realize how flawed it is. I could forgive much of Mrs Porter’s Letter because of the fact that it was the first mystery polished by fledgling Naiad Press and suffered from little or no competent editing. This one suffers even more and puts an exclamation mark on why presses like Naiad were the only ones who would give books like these even a look.
As was Mrs. Porter’s Letter, this book is important historically because it was part of the first series featuring a lesbian detective. It is fun because Nyla is fun and it is interesting because of the way that McConnell uses historical letters and documents (Perry Truman’s written account of the original owner of the castle is extremely well done) in her mysteries. But in all other ways, The Burnton Widows suffers from immature writing and bad—or no—advice.
Note: I read a Naiad Press printing of this novel.
Another Note: This review is included in my book The Art of the Lesbian Mystery Novel, along with information on over 930 other lesbian mysteries by over 310 authors.