Editors note: Guardian Executive Editor Tim Redmond has a bad 30-year addiction to mystery/crime/thriller books. He’s decided that he might as well put this terrible habit to productive use by writing about these sometimes awful, sometimes entertaining and — on rare occasion — significant works of mass-market literature. Read his last installment here.
Rough Country
John Sandford
(Putnam, 388 pages $26.95)
By Tim Redmond
Let us stipulate: It’s difficult for a male writer who specializes in straight male lead characters (and in this case, in a straight male lead character who spends a significant portion of his waking hours trying to get women into bed) to write a credible novel that centers around a lesbian resort. James Patterson, a white guy, has a wonderful black lead character named Alex Cross who works, perfectly, but that’s the exception; most people screw up when they try to reach like that.
And at the beginning of Rough Country, I had to wonder. I love John Sandford, but after the first chapter…well, you’ve got a straight girl getting hot watching lesbian lip-lock, you’ve got sordid lesbian drama that turns into a lesbian bar fight, you’ve got a weird business going on with really young men working at the women-only resort who may be on-the-side fuck-candy for bisexual girls (or may be underage hotties fucking older women for money)…and a little too much talk about “rug munchers.”
But by the middle of the book, it’s pretty clear that this is not just a great Sandford novel, but a wonderful portrayal of a fictional Northern Minnesota town where nobody gives a shit who fucks who. The owner of the resort is a respected local businessperson. The old straight guys who run bars and work as fishing guides treat the women just like any other (money-carrying) tourists. An old lady who’s part of a horticultural preservation group wonders aloud why anyone would care about another person’s sexuality, save for “a bunch of stuffy old men.”