(What started as a conversational post about my novels being part of the Queer Thriller Genre became more of an “essay-like” piece, as my husband termed it (LOL), but I think it’s still compelling while remaining accessible.)
MY NOVELS, Vindictive and Vindictive Too, are staunchly in the Thriller Genre. What I feel sets them apart from traditional thrillers is multi-faceted diversification due to being a part of the sub-genre Queer Thriller.
Thrillers come in various types, but the most common are detective, espionage, psychological, religious, and
political. Queer Thriller, arguably the most recent addition to the Thriller Genre, is unlike all others because it intentionally focuses on placing queer characters in situations where they can be active and complex protagonists or antagonists, not merely pitied, disposable victims or one-dimensional villains, characterized by offensively exaggerated mannerisms and affectations.
Let’s expand on that last comment. Instead of featuring feminity and masculinity as individualized aspects of queer characters, to be expressed unapologetically in whatever way they naturally manifest, historically problematic narratives push these mannerisms and characteristics to an extreme, cartoonish degree. They mock, degrade, and set queer characters apart from traditional or “permissible” representations of masculinity and femininity. This treatment, this adherence to inflated stereotypes, is how the reader is meant to recognize these characters as the victims or villains in these fictions; it’s nothing more than unimaginative character assassination.
Queer Thrillers embrace more than heteronormative sexuality and gender identity to embody and embolden their characters, providing agency for an author, Queer or not, to explore and give representation to marginalized, often ignored LGBTQ+ voices. This emerging category also allows writers to highlight the importance of representing queer spaces and issues in contemporary storytelling. Even if it’s a historically based narrative, the point is that queerness as a human identity and a socio-political movement has a right to an active voice. If the protagonist or “the villain” is queer, they aren’t treated as villainous because of their queerness; they are a villain who happens to be queer. And their queerness provides them access to myriad storytelling avenues often not available or even considered by their non-LGBTQ+ fictional counterparts.
The Vindictive novels embody much of what makes up a traditional thriller, including tropes like the intelligent psychopath, the femme fatale, the irascible detective, a closed circle of suspects, and oddly placed corpses. In both Vindictive and Vindictive Too, I firmly push forth the reality, NOT AN AGENDA, that queer people exist in the world, in various places and societal positions and with the capacity to do both good and evil.
In Vindictive, Amanda Reid embodies many traditional aspects of the Femme Fatale Trope, yet she transcends the noirish stereotype. She’s more than the mysterious and dangerous beauty in a slinky dress and high heels bringing trouble to the main protagonist; she’s more than the woman who’s handy with a gun but never compromises her “traditional feminity” if placed in a position of aggression. Amanda Reid is a trained, world-class assassin who will gladly take on any opponent in whatever manner she deems necessary or appropriate. Reid is also a lesbian who will wear a slinky dress or a suit based entirely on her choice, not to impress or seek validation from a man. Manipulate him? Sure, but that’s business. Oh, and that protagonist she causes trouble for? Surprise, it’s not some gumshoe with a hairy chest and bad attitude who drinks too much coffee and whiskey: it’s a powerful, influential woman.
Amanda Reid is mysterious and dangerous in my novels because she’s a complex, fascinating woman who happens to be a lesbian. Not because her sexuality or sexual orientation was written to underscore her as “the other,” a person inherently hypersexual, unstable, and destructive due to their sexuality, as some problematic thriller fiction has previously written female characters to be.
In Vindictive Too, Police Inspector Declan James is an out gay man with a troubled past and a chip on his shoulder; he has lousy luck in the love department, but he’s damn good at his job. This leading male detective trope in thriller novels has been predominantly the domain of straight male characters interacting with a femme fatale or a damsel in distress who turns his world upside down. But in Vindictive Too, that guy is a gay man finding love and excitement of a decidedly different kind: tall, dark, and handsome with a nice six-pack and a potentially deadly secret or agenda. And this new direction turns the genre on its head by providing different perspectives and opportunities to take characters to previously unexplored (or rarely explored) places.
In my latest novel, Declan James’ sexuality is explored and talked about, but it’s not the driving force of his character’s existence, nor is it used to justify any negative things that happen to him. I did not write his sexuality as a hindrance to his happiness, mental stability or career. And it’s okay to use a character’s sexuality or love life as a plot point, like if there’s a hate-crime narrative or someone kidnapped their lover, for example. It’s just lazy, problematic writing to use sexual orientation to say, “Well, of course, he’s miserable–he’s queer!” Like it’s self-explanatory. Nope, I’m not interested.
The potential for complex, tradition-breaking narratives where gender and sexuality are played with thoughtfully is the very essence of the Queer Thriller Genre. It embraces an imaginative and transgressive path to more engaging, stereotype-breaking storytelling that navigates queer themes needing more exploration. I hope I add authenticity and excitement to the genre with my Vindictive novels.
0 comments