This is something really new. It's centred on a transvestite nightclub in Istanbul, and told at a brisk pace by our hero, the club manager, who's one of the fairest of them all. Girls from the club are being murdered in sinister circumstances, and so far as he's concerned, this is no time to stand idly by and listen in on the gossip. He's spurred into action, and we follow his progress, step by step, as he criss-crosses the city, sometimes as a man, sometimes in full drag, and then moves south for a sexy, dangerous, and very dark denouement. Not a detective by profession, his day job as a computer specialist is research training enough, and he's driven by his determination to safeguard the girls from whoever is bumping off one by one any and every girl who was named at birth after one of the holy prophets.
There are brief encounters, good friendships, and some truly disturbing moments along the way, but his resolve doesn't ever falter, and nor does the sprightly intelligent tone with which he relates his adventures, more or less as they happen. Through gay scenes and everyday scenes, he's not going to be daunted, and takes it all in his stride - tenderness, exploitation, silliness and horror are all reported while they occur to this bold, good-humoured and unnamed queen. The pace varies, dwelling for a while on a drag performer whose ambition is to be the perfect housewife, then on a techie nerd who wants to be a masochist ... but the tone is unhesitating, always open and ready to cope, whether the events and encounters are sweet or grim, seductive or ugly.
This is the first of six such thrillers by Mehmet Murat Somer, and it's a lively translation, with not a moment's lapse into boredom. It is too a window onto a very special world that few if any non-Turks can access, one that's brave, startling, and ultimately highly cheerful. It'll no doubt be compared to classics of high-camp comedy, for instance to Armistead Maupin's "Tales of the City", but in truth this is something very different - unsentimental, and far more modern, more like Keith Ridgway, the Irish gay writer who's also not afraid of the dark. And unlike even the best of Turkish gay cinema - unlike films such as "Hammam", or that searing toughie, the award-winning "Lola and Billy-the-Kid" - here sympathy and feeling are never allowed to tumble down into melancholia and pathos. This is vivid resistance fiction, from a gay culture that's refusing victimhood and compromise, and is instead asserting its vitality, its huge variety, and its absolute right to life.
You hardly can believe this book could exist until you actually start reading it, and it's great news there's a whole series more just waiting for translation.