Reasons why lesbian detective fiction owns face and rules, generally and entirely:
1) the erotics of concealed weaponry.
2) the frequent highbrow literary allusions in the trashiest of genres, which often bear out queer readings of said highbrow texts that you never even thought of.
3) the incessant trope of the mechanic-suit-as-disguise.
4) the indiscriminate mixing of business and pleasure.
5) the heroines are so far outside the law, it seems an alternate universe.
6) avenging homophic misogynists and restoring honor to the perverse!
7) the nobel loner could be yr girlfriend.
Reading Lauren Wright Douglas' The Always Anonymous Beast, before bed, as it were, post-Lacanian-feminist-revision-flogging (it has taken me three days to work through Butler's "The Lesbian Phallus and the Morphological Imaginary," and I think it's because I'm allergic to the mirror stage).
In case you ever felt like charting the movement of desire from subject to object and back, in Lacanian terms, in order to understand the failure of said desire, you needn't. It's been done for you.
It's okay. I'm not quite sure I understand it, either.
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