Murder in the Collective by Barbara Wilson

Murder in the Collective by Barbara Wilson

 

published 1984

 

I’ve been revisiting some lesbian crime stories from the 1980s, in the wake of reading a book by my friend June Thomas – A Space of their Own (the post features an interview with the author).

One of the interesting things about returning to them is that they are so in tune with June’s picture of lesbian life – her book features bars, bookshops and softball teams, and so it seems do all the crime novels. I was tempted to give them a June-rating in how far they align, a June-o-meter.

This one I remembered as being very good by any standards: it stood up to a re-read very well, and there were huge additional points of interest. It is set very recognizably in Seattle, and when I read it in the mid-80s I would have had no idea that I would be moving to Seattle 10 years later – so it was fascinating to read it with that in mind. And Seattle itself was going to re-imagine itself dramatically and become the home of coffeeshops and cutting-edge technology.

less cutting-edge days in Seattle

The collective of the title is a printing business: one of the areas of life that was going to change beyond recognition with the advent of widespread computer ownership, and Desk Top Publishing. I had been particularly interested back then because I was very active in the Labour Party, and learned how to operate printing machinery to produce flyers and newsletters. I feel they would have given me a job in a minute at Best Printing in the book, with my correct views and talent for rush jobs.

The book is very political, but Wilson’s work with this is admirable: it’s not shoehorned in but is an intrinsic part of the story. One of the workers at the collective is Zenaida, a Filipina, very much keyed in to her local community, and very much connected with what’s going on in her own country.

As she points out, most Americans (and the rest of the world) would have no idea about the repressive regime there, and the unhealthy connections between the Philippines and the USA.

The print collective has been offered the chance to merge with a lesbian typesetting agency (which is all-women, obviously, while the printshop includes men). This is a very touchy subject all round, and all kinds of trouble is brewing. Then someone vandalizes one of the businesses, and a murder follows soon after.

There is a strong cast of characters, and Wilson handles that very well: it is sometimes an issue with large groups in books, but it was always clear to me who was who. Our guide through all this is 1^st person narrator Pam: she and her twin sister Penny inherited the printshop and decided to turn it into a collective. During the course of the book Pam wonders if she might be lesbian too. She attends a softball game with one of the women from the typesetters  and goes dancing in Sappho’s, a lesbian bar. High on the June scale.

Various strong characters come under suspicion and turn on each other, and people make political points which are both intrinsically interesting and also help advance the plot. And not always predictable or in the direction you might expect – people make valid arguments, not necessarily politically correct by the standards of the time, and do not underestimate the difficulties of holding unpopular views. There are also reminders not to stereotype people.

It’s also very funny at times – particularly to anyone who attended a lot of left-wing meetings in the 1980s &90s, but opportunities for everyone.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy put in nervously, angrily, “But, like, you know, I don’t want to be apologizing all the time for being a guy. I’m sorry but I just don’t.”

“You’re apologizing now,” snapped June.

(This is not, obviously, my June, just a happy coincidence.) Later in the book one woman has an impassioned outburst in a coffee shop (pre-Starbucks, this is ‘in the local trattoria’ of all things – they have no idea what is coming their way on the coffee scene):

“I’m tired of talking. I don’t have another word to say!” she burst out vehemently and even banged the glass-top table.

But she did.  

Meanwhile Pam notices that other women in the café are becoming very intrigued by this loud monologue. We hope they will join in but that doesn’t quite happen.

I liked also the woman who

came sweeping back into the room like some robust bordello madame, carrying a tray of cups and a pot of coffee. One thing for sure… I’d started to really look at women’s bodies, or admit to myself that I was looking at them. And [she] was built like a lavish Victorian love seat with velvet pillows.

 

Barbara Wilson was a key figure in the alternative life of Seattle from the 1980s onwards, co-founder of the independent and very important Seal Press. She wrote a number of excellent detective novels, and this is a star exhibit.

Pictures of feminist demonstration from the Dutch NationalArchives. 

Display showing ‘changing family roles in the light of feminism, same source

The heroine takes a date to The Dog House – a real-life old-school restaurant. This menu from the University of Washington archives