The modern detective classic focuses on three men--an actor-model found dead in his bath, a failing writer who was the dead man's roommate, and a gay, black New York City detective named Pharaoh Love
George Baxt, the US playwright, scriptwriter and novelist, in New York City, USA.
He began his career as a radio announcer, an actors' agent, and television scriptwriter. He claimed that as an actors' agent he threw James Dean out of his office because he needed a bath. George Baxt's career developed into scriptwriting cult horror films. He made a contribution to The Abominable Dr Phibes, although it was uncredited. His first novel A Queer Kind of Death, (1966), introduced the detective Pharoah Love who was the first in the genre to be both black and openly gay. The novel was very well received and marked the start of a new career in writing. Two further Pharoah Love novels soon appeared and were widely regarded as superior to the first. Nearly three decades passed before the final outings of Pharoah Love in two novels.
Meanwhile George Baxt introduced the detective duo Sylvia Plotkin and Max van Larsen, but these were soon abandoned and several non-series novels were produced. Starting with The Dorothy Parker Murder Case, George Baxt then began to use his knowledge of Hollywood life by using celebrities as characters in a series of detective novels.
He died following complications after heart surgery.
The first black gay detective novel. If you can get over the racism and the woman-hating and focus on the complicated plot and weird narrative devices this book is amazing, and if I had any ambition to adapt a novel into a movie I think this would be the one.
In the late 1980s and early 90s International Polygonics Ltd published a series of reprints of out-of-print mysteries. They brought Craig Rice, Lillian de la Torre, Margaret Millar and many others back into print.
The books were well printed traditional size pocketbooks with bright illustrated covers. (The cover above is from a different edition. This edition has a painting of a skeleton with a rose in its mouth. I have no idea what that has to do with the book.) I bought most of them but never got around to reading all of them.
They re-published most of George Baxt's novels. He had a series of Show Biz books, "The Alfred Hitchcock Murder Case", " The Dorothy Parker Murder Case" etc.
His other series of books, the Pharoah Love stories, was more unusual, particularly for the times. This is the first book in the series. It was published in 1966. Love is a New York Police Homicide Detective. He is black and gay. He is cool and clever.
The story is set in the New York gay/hip world. A gay hustler, Ben Bentley, is found dead in his bathtub. He was electrocuted when a radio dropped into the tub. Love suspects it is a murder.
Seth Piro is a struggling author. He has left his wife to live with Bentley. His wife is trying to manipulate him by threatening to expose that he is "queer". ("Gay" is not a word for that in 1966). There is an older gay guy who is a suspect, as is his American Indian boyfriend.
This is a picture of a scene. People get drunk and have silly fights in a bar. Gay men are being routinely blackmailed. Everyone has secrets and everyone loves to go out and be seen.
Baxt has some pretty savage insights into the characters insecurities. Seth and his wife have a particularly brutal relationship.
Pharoah Love is a great character. He is conscious of the weakness and strength he has in this crowd as a black man. He seems more comfortable being gay then most of the others.
The plot is somewhat rickety, and the ending was not to my taste, but this was an enjoyable odd ball mystery.
(Reminders that we are in 1966. People send telegrams to get in touch with someone. When someone says he was injured "in the war", everyone knows he means WW2. In NY you need to show fault to get a divorce.)
Whenever I read a George Baxt book, I feel as though I shouldn't enjoy it, but I do! His books are totally weird, and make a person uncomfortable, but they are really good.
There are a lot of things to hate about this mystery: characters are a stereotypical (and there is just about every race and gender referenced here), it’s filled with red herrings, and the ending has been done so many times, even by 1966, it’s ridiculous. Still, I managed to find this read a bit endearing. I never would have picked it up if it wasn’t for “The Lost Library: Gay Fiction Rediscovered” by Tom Cardamone. I decided to order a bunch of the books mentioned there without reading the reviews. What’s unique about this one is that it introduces history’s first black gay detective, Pharoah Love – and it’s the first in a series. Go figure. The gentleman who reviewed this work in “The Lost Library,” mentions just loving it when he first read it in the 1970’s, but that in rereading it, there were many issues. When one considers this was written in 1966, I can forgive a lot, although it is as if the author met one black man, gay or straight, who ended every sentence with the word “cat” and decided to bestow that speech pattern on this works hero, Pharaoh Love. It did not work. The reviewer was so irritated he started to count the “cats” but gave up, as there are way too many. From a historical perspective, it’s a good read; as a mystery, not so much. However, I have ordered “Swing Low, Sweet Harriet”, the second of the Pharoah Love books.
New York Mitte der sechziger Jahre; Genre: Kriminalroman
Erstaunlicherweise ist der oft ein wenig eitel albernde und seinem Starkult um ältere Hollywood-Diven, vor allem weiblichen Geschlechts, die Zügel schießen lassende George Baxt (1923-2003) die Gründungsfigur des schwulen Detektivromans gewesen. Um anzudeuten, wie nahe uns das noch ist: Einmal wird in diesem ersten Fall von Pharoah Love von einem Schwulen erzählt, der einen Tag lang mit dem Weinen nicht aufhören konnte, weil er dachte, Barbra Streisand sei gestorben.
George Baxt, der in Wahrheit natürlich anders hieß, mit russisch-jüdischen Wurzeln aus dem New Yorker Stadtteil Brooklyn gekommen war, fing als Agent zur Jobvermittlung für Schauspieler an. Anfang der sechziger Jahre schrieb er dann die Drehbücher für einige Filme und war in Hollywood eine gar nicht so kleine Nummer. Dies hier, „A Queer Kind of Death“, stellt den Beginn seiner dritten Karriere dar: augenzwinkernde, irgendwie tuntige Kriminalromane, die den Leser mit In-Crowd-kompatiblen popkulturellen Anspielungen zwar laufend ans Herz drücken, jede praktizierte Homosexualität der im Buch auftretenden Figuren jedoch in der Hintergrund schieben.
Er war nicht offensiv, unterwarf sich mit seiner Weltsicht aber auch nicht länger der Heteronormativität. Deutschland erreichte das alles erst mal gar nicht. Das kam eigentlich erst in den neunziger Jahren mit den Taschenbuchausgaben seiner (späteren) Mordfälle aus der klassischen Ära Hollywoods, Krimis um Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Mae West, Humphrey Bogart, Tallulah Bankhead und so weiter.
Die ursprünglich drei (später sogar fünf) Romane um Pharoah Love überraschen mit einem unfassbaren Helden: einem schwarzen und schwulen Detective vom NYPD, extrem smart, den man sich wie einen Clone aus Harry Belafonte, Sidney Poitier und Nat King Cole vorstellt. Er liebt es, steil angezogen im roten Jaguar durch die Straßen Manhattans zu kreuzen und lässig alle, denen er begegnet, egal, welches Geschlecht, welche Rasse, mit „Hi Cat“ zu begrüßen.
Cat Ben Bentley scheint ermordet worden zu sein. Ein Radioapparat fiel ins Badewasser. Man hat den schönen Jüngling als „talentierten Schauspieler“ bezeichnet, doch scheint es sich faktisch um einen durch wechselnde Hände gereichten Gigolo älterer, vermögender, femininer Homosexueller gehandelt zu haben. Aparterweise ist der, der den Fall aus seiner Perspektive aufschreibt und für die kommenden Bücher den Giganten Pharoah Love hier kennen lernt, Seth Piro, Bens letzter Lover gewesen, wird folglich auch des Mordes verdächtigt. Falls es kein Unfall war. Verdächtige, Schwule und Frauen, gibt es allerdings eine Reihe. Bentley hatte begonnen, sich bei seinen Exen mit der angedrohten Veröffentlichung intimer Details zu bedanken. Sprich: Er hat ein paar Leute erpresst.
Alle relevanten Personen laufen sich fortwährend in Ida's Bar über den Weg. Seth Piro, Autor und Ghost Writer, ihn hatte Bentley verlassen, scheint ein Skandalbuch über diese Gesellschaft vorzubereiten. Jameson Hurst, ein x-fach gelifteter Millionär unbestimmbaren Alters, aber jedenfalls über 60, hatte die Stelle des großzügigen Lovers von Bentley vor Piro ausgefüllt. Er leidet unter epileptischen Anfällen und gehört einem Kreis von Anhängern der mexikanischen Droge Peyote an, von denen es bei Ida noch mehrere zu finden gibt. Vor allem ist das Ward, Idas Barkellner, als armer junger Jude in der Vorstadt hatte er anders geheißen, dann wurde er Zwischenträger für die Transporte aus Mexiko.
Adam ist Indianer und der aktuelle Liebhaber von Jameson, allerdings ebenfalls drauf und dran, ihn im Stich zu lassen. Die dicke Ella, die Schwester Jamesons, ist stinkend reich, bisweilen eine große Wohltäterin, aber psychisch schwer belastet. Sie vergräbt sich in ihrer Luxuswohnung. Wollen Seth und sein neuer ständiger Begleiter Love (sie flirten, dass die Schwarte kracht, dabei soll Love Hetero sein) ihr paar Fragen stellen, müssen sie eine Terminanfrage per Telegrammbote schicken. Wenn sie selbst klingeln, macht sie nicht auf.
Ben Bentley, das ist natürlich ein Künstlername gewesen, hat draußen auf der falschen Seite des Flusses noch seine alte Mutter wohnen, die einen Kiosk betreibt. Auch eine Schwester Ada gibt es dort, welcher die großzügige Ella eine heimliche Abreibung spendiert hat. Ben hatte sich seinerzeit verweigert. Genau über derlei Affären gibt es verschlüsselte Eintragungen in seinem rotem Notizbuch, das Pharoah und Seth zu entschlüsseln versuchen. Dann gibt es noch eine Veronica, die einerseits mit Seth früher mal verheiratet gewesen ist, andererseits mit Ben auch schon was hatte. Und Ben wusste, dass sie mit einem weiteren, ekelhaften Menschen auch noch was hatte, aber wer war es? Man sieht: Das Buch versucht auf eher kuriose Weise, möglichst jeden aus einer kleinen, überschaubaren Gruppe zum Mordverdächtigen zu machen, auf dass am Ende ein ganz Anderer es dann werde. Eine Art Oscar-Nacht also, was ja kein Wunder ist bei einem Hollywood-Mann. An sich auch nicht das Neueste. Man sah es, was amerikanische Ostküstenautoren anging, ähnlich auch schon bei S.S. Van Dine, Ellery Queen oder John Dickson Carr.
Bleibenden Rang erhält das nicht besonders tiefsinnige, als Krimi nachlässig konstruierte Buch dadurch, dass es in den USA deutlich vor den Unruhen, die den Polizeischikanen gegen die Besucher des New Yorker „Stonewall Inns“ in der Christopher Street folgten, veröffentlicht wurde und sich genüsslich damit amüsierte, Aspekte schwuler Kultur immer wieder im Munde zu führen, ohne sie im Klartext zu benennen.
Es ist beileibe kein realistischer Krimi! Sämtliche Charaktere sind Klischees, kaum ausgeführt, karikiert. Mit so etwas wie Arbeiten, Geld abheben, Einkaufen, Kochen, Wäsche, geschweige noch ordinärere tägliche Unabwendbarkeien (außer jenem tödlichen Wannenbad) gibt diese Geschichte sich nicht ab. Dagegen gerne mit Partys, einer Unmenge alkoholischer Getränke, Drogen, Popmusik. Filmen, Mode, Urlaubsorten. Der übliche Umgangston ist Piesacken und die Zurschaustellung gewitzter Überheblichkeit. Der Roman hat arg viel schwatzhaft witzelnden Dialog, wird von daher nicht jedem gefallen und nimmt, nachträglich betrachtet, die große Enttäuschung, die das Sequel, das nächste Buch mit Pharoah und Seth, bei mir auslöste, somit auch schon vorweg.
Not good, famous for it's historical significance instead of it's content. The narrative style is annoying, shifting from past to present and character to character with no distinction. The main guy with the great name calls everyone Cat. One sentence he uses the word cat three times. Read one page at random and take a drink every time you see the word cat and you'll be dead. The crime reveal is odd, there is a good plot device that I didn't see coming but this is then derailed by another plot twist on the final page. It's too much in a book with too many characters and narratives you won't be able to keep straight. I can see why people thought this would make a good movie, there's a lot of good bones here. The fat delusional bar owner, the huge Native American, the mysterious veiled figure, and a good ending, the first one. Pharroh Love is a caricature, something needs to be done with him. But the rest could be assembled into something. Unfortunately though it's not this.
This book is both historically important and very dated. It is one of the earliest LGBTQ+ mysteries and presents a gay Black detective and for that it is an important historical artifact. At the same time, it is very much a creature of its time, with racism, misogyny, and campy wierdness, all of which detracts from the intrinsic value of its mystery. I'll admit I laughed at lot of the banter and wierdness, but I also cringed a lot. Not sure I'll pursue the other Pharoah Love mysteries or Baxt's Hollywood mysteries. Joseph Hanson, he's not
If you can get past the sexism and the racial slurs typical of the 60s it is a brilliant murder mystery! Pharoah Love is such a fun detective to read about, I can't wait to get my hands on the sequels! All the characters in the story have a chance to shine and you end up really involved in their lives. Full of surprises!
I was just reminded of this book. It's been ages since I first read it, but I still remember the *wow* about the writing. Just fell in love with the voice of Pharoah Love. Am reminded I need to hunt down the series. Don't think I made it to book five.
Three and a half stars: Times have changed since this was written back in the olden days, so not many readers -- staid or not -- will be that shocked. Amused, probably, though. It's not for all tastes, but Baxt has a certain style and joy in his writing that is infectious. Nothing deep, but fun.
Well its very racist and its not very good, but it sure is an interesting perspective on camp and homophobia in the 60s. If nothing else, it was easier to read than a lot of other mysteries from that decade.
Would have been slightly more into this if the author didn’t spend so much time being really hateful to fat women and they focused more on the POV of their gay black detective than they did with the mopey white guy author and his relationship problems.
Equally a product of the 60s and ahead of its time. Some passages and references are outdated, racist, and sexist. However, the themes themselves are not plagued by such problems. Delivered a plot twist unlike any other. I recommend.
No pensaba darle 5 estrellas pero tiene un súper plot twist que me dejó bieeeeeeeen loco jajaja. Excelente trabajo hizo tanto en personajes como en situaciones. Amé.
This works well as campy satire so it might hit your sweet spot if you like that sort of thing. But with caricatures for characters, I was never fully engaged. I only wanted to read it in short bits and was never that anxious to get back to it. It was difficult to keep the large cast of characters straight in my mind and it’s not the kind of book where you become particularly fond of anyone. I was amused by the absurdity at times, but it didn’t quite tickle my funny bone well enough to give it a wholehearted recommendation.