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pleforge's review
Tyler Jones is not the most social person in the world, so when she wins the Pulitzer Prize for journalism for a feature story about spousal abuse committed by members of the police force, she goes into semi-retirement, writing her newspaper columns from home. Because of her urgent concern about violence against women, she also spends time at a crisis center. But although her research and counseling brings her into contact with many forms of violence, her own life is rather uninteresting and predictable. That is until she finds a dead body in the park while out walking her dog.
The characterization of Tyler is very subtle, and we often have to rely on small clues to get a true picture of her. We know that she broke up with her last lover ten years before and that she is more comfortable working at home than at an office. This may be explained by the fact that she describes herself as “hefty,” “robust,” and “fat.” Not in the way a fashion model might think she has to lose a pound or two, but because Tyler is truly overweight. Yet she mentions this only in passing—never dwells on her weight issues. We also know that she is a recovering alcoholic who is often badly in need of a drink. The fact that Drury gives us no backstory on any of this is an omission that might be rectified in the two subsequent books about Tyler Jones.
Here’s another thing we know about Tyler but have no real backstory on: she has little use for men (except for her contact at the newspaper) and blames them for much of the violence that goes on in the world—especially against women. As she says, “I am, with reason, suspicious about men—especially when it comes to violence.” In fact, Tyler makes her living writing about the subject. She produces a weekly column for her newspaper and is writing a book-length oral history. And hey, Tyler is a writer who actually writes. We are not just told about a column, we get to read it, too. Likewise chapters of her book, which are convincing and heartfelt.
So does this mean that men won’t like this book? Umm. Many won’t, but that’s their loss. The history of feminism and the ongoing violence against women is a subject that everyone should take a serious interest in. The fact is, The Other Side of Silence is one of the most well-crafted mysteries I have ever read. It just continues to develop until the very unusual (but maybe not totally unexpected) ending. The fact that Tyler (and Drury) have an important agenda is all the better.
The plot has to do with Tyler finding the body of a man in the park next to her house. The man happens to be a spouse abuser who once attacked Tyler physically when he found out that she was using her apartment as a safe house for his wife. Who would kill such a man? Everyone? Maybe it was Tyler herself—the police certainly think so. And of course to prove her innocence, Tyler has to uncover the perpetrator herself. Unlike many books with this motif, however, Tyler’s experience and skill as a reporter gives her the tools she needs to actually investigate in a believable manner.
I read most of the books I review in random order, so it is more than surprising when I read two in a row that have many of the same motifs. And what is even more surprising is that this happens more often than not. The book I read previously, Relationships Can Be Murder, by Jane DiLucchio, has much in common with this one. For one thing, the detective’s best friends (their Companions, as it were) are similar. As I’ve noted above, their reasons to investigate are also similar—to prove that they themselves are innocent. Another similarity is that—and I don’t think I’ve seen this anywhere else—a potential romance between the protagonist and the detective investigating the case—goes absolutely nowhere. Weird.
But many of the shortcomings of Relationships Can Be Murder are not present here. Oh, there’s a glitch or two, but they are so subtle it would be hard to prove they even exist. I’m willing to let them go and to give this novel a solid 4 stars and a desire to know more about Tyler Jones. In fact, I have just ordered the next book in the series. I’ll let you know.
Note: I read the first Spinster’s Ink printing of this book.
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.
The characterization of Tyler is very subtle, and we often have to rely on small clues to get a true picture of her. We know that she broke up with her last lover ten years before and that she is more comfortable working at home than at an office. This may be explained by the fact that she describes herself as “hefty,” “robust,” and “fat.” Not in the way a fashion model might think she has to lose a pound or two, but because Tyler is truly overweight. Yet she mentions this only in passing—never dwells on her weight issues. We also know that she is a recovering alcoholic who is often badly in need of a drink. The fact that Drury gives us no backstory on any of this is an omission that might be rectified in the two subsequent books about Tyler Jones.
Here’s another thing we know about Tyler but have no real backstory on: she has little use for men (except for her contact at the newspaper) and blames them for much of the violence that goes on in the world—especially against women. As she says, “I am, with reason, suspicious about men—especially when it comes to violence.” In fact, Tyler makes her living writing about the subject. She produces a weekly column for her newspaper and is writing a book-length oral history. And hey, Tyler is a writer who actually writes. We are not just told about a column, we get to read it, too. Likewise chapters of her book, which are convincing and heartfelt.
So does this mean that men won’t like this book? Umm. Many won’t, but that’s their loss. The history of feminism and the ongoing violence against women is a subject that everyone should take a serious interest in. The fact is, The Other Side of Silence is one of the most well-crafted mysteries I have ever read. It just continues to develop until the very unusual (but maybe not totally unexpected) ending. The fact that Tyler (and Drury) have an important agenda is all the better.
The plot has to do with Tyler finding the body of a man in the park next to her house. The man happens to be a spouse abuser who once attacked Tyler physically when he found out that she was using her apartment as a safe house for his wife. Who would kill such a man? Everyone? Maybe it was Tyler herself—the police certainly think so. And of course to prove her innocence, Tyler has to uncover the perpetrator herself. Unlike many books with this motif, however, Tyler’s experience and skill as a reporter gives her the tools she needs to actually investigate in a believable manner.
I read most of the books I review in random order, so it is more than surprising when I read two in a row that have many of the same motifs. And what is even more surprising is that this happens more often than not. The book I read previously, Relationships Can Be Murder, by Jane DiLucchio, has much in common with this one. For one thing, the detective’s best friends (their Companions, as it were) are similar. As I’ve noted above, their reasons to investigate are also similar—to prove that they themselves are innocent. Another similarity is that—and I don’t think I’ve seen this anywhere else—a potential romance between the protagonist and the detective investigating the case—goes absolutely nowhere. Weird.
But many of the shortcomings of Relationships Can Be Murder are not present here. Oh, there’s a glitch or two, but they are so subtle it would be hard to prove they even exist. I’m willing to let them go and to give this novel a solid 4 stars and a desire to know more about Tyler Jones. In fact, I have just ordered the next book in the series. I’ll let you know.
Note: I read the first Spinster’s Ink printing of this book.
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.
bookishheather's review
3.0
After reading the final paragraph and pondering what felt like an abrupt end, I wasn't sure whether the book would be considered genre fiction (mystery) or just fiction-with-a-social-message. I had been operating under the expectation that the murder discovered in the opening chapter, the one that drives the plot forward for over 200 pages, would be explained and another whodunnit would be solved. Instead it seems the author's idea was to replace a crucial explanation scene at the end with one that would again drive home her social message about violence against women.
Were lesbians of the early 90s (when this book was written) not acutely aware of violence against women, so this book would have been enlightening? Along with some dated references about technology ("[I] hooked up my modem to their modem") and a distinct lack of smartphones/Google that would have eliminated some legwork in this book, I felt like maybe there was something larger I was missing because I was reading the book a couple of decades after its publishing. I was confused at the end expecting a clear explanation of the murder instead of a drop-off ending.
Early in the book, a blind homeless person is specifically described as having more "vision" than sighted people, setting her up for relevation of key information later on. Instead, this character drops off with just a third-person mention in a later scene. Missed opportunity!
Normally I'm not a fiction reader, but this was a really quick read. I started the book on a direct flight from Portland (OR) to Chicago and it was compelling enough I was 100 pages in when the plane landed. Over the next few days I read the rest. I picked the book from a Little Free Library in SW Portland, sucked in due to the description of the dog (Aggie) on the first page, who obviously wasn't going to be a throwaway character.
Were lesbians of the early 90s (when this book was written) not acutely aware of violence against women, so this book would have been enlightening? Along with some dated references about technology ("[I] hooked up my modem to their modem") and a distinct lack of smartphones/Google that would have eliminated some legwork in this book, I felt like maybe there was something larger I was missing because I was reading the book a couple of decades after its publishing. I was confused at the end expecting a clear explanation of the murder instead of a drop-off ending.
Early in the book, a blind homeless person is specifically described as having more "vision" than sighted people, setting her up for relevation of key information later on. Instead, this character drops off with just a third-person mention in a later scene. Missed opportunity!
Normally I'm not a fiction reader, but this was a really quick read. I started the book on a direct flight from Portland (OR) to Chicago and it was compelling enough I was 100 pages in when the plane landed. Over the next few days I read the rest. I picked the book from a Little Free Library in SW Portland, sucked in due to the description of the dog (Aggie) on the first page, who obviously wasn't going to be a throwaway character.