I have mixed feelings about Ten Days in August. Set during a heat wave in New York in 1896, it’s a romance between a closeted gay policeman and a gay nightclub performer. I loved the idea of the 1896 setting, but in practice the setting made for depressing reading despite a happy ending for the lovers.
The story begins when a male prostitute is found dead. Inspector Hank Brandt takes an interest in the case. He’s especially interested in a witness, Nicky Sharp. Nicky works as a nightclub singer at the club where the murder took place. Hank becomes increasingly convinced that the murder is the work of a serial killer. His work is hampered by the devastation wreaked by the heat wave and his need to keep his sexuality a secret. Meanwhile Hank and Nicky become lovers and explore the possibilities of a life together.
The 1896 heat wave was an actual event, one that killed approximately 1,500 people. The author of this book does an incredible job of bringing the heat wave to life on the page. The only problem is that the heat wave is so well rendered that nothing about the setting registers as romantic. The first page features the murder of a dog. A small child dies in explicit detail. Both events are used to remind the viewer of the corruption and cruelty of city life. Everything is gritty and sweaty and miserable and smelly. Most of the book takes place in tenement districts and the seedier of the entertainment districts, but even in scenes at Town Hall and at a mansion the heat is a solid, deadly, depressing force.
Even though I did not want to spend time in a heat wave, I kept coming back to the book. For one thing, I liked its emphasis on consent. Nicky and Hank have a serious consent issue because Hank is an investigator on a case Nicky is involved with. Their relationship is unethical and it bothered me that Hank was the relationship’s instigator. However, once things get going, Nicky is very clear about what, exactly, he will and won’t do, and Hank respects these limits and seems to appreciate having them spelled out. In general, Hank and Nicky are good at communicating, both in and out of the bedroom.
I also enjoyed the positive attitude towards sex workers as well as Hank’s acceptance of Nicky’s career as Paulina (Nicky’s stage name). Sex work is described as difficult and dangerous, but not shameful. Hank has paid for sex in the past and Nicky has been paid in the past and both are matter-of-fact about this. In a world in which both gay men and sex workers are considered to be depraved and disposable, Hank and Nicky insist on their humanity and value.
Throughout the book, Nicky is referred to as a female impersonator. The term was widely used during the time when the book is set, when entertainers performed as the opposite sex without the exaggerated qualities that are common in modern Drag. You can find a fascinating article on the origin of the term and the popularity of “female impersonators” in vaudeville, at The Advocate.
However, modern readers should be aware that many people today view the term as pejorative (especially when applied to transgender people, which Nicky is not). Here’s how Nicky describes himself (Paulina is the name he uses when cross-dressing):
“Are you asking if I would rather be a woman? No, darling, I am quite content with the way God made me. But it would be like cutting off an arm if I had to give up Paulina. I have no other way to explain it.”
One of the problematic aspects of the book is that there are two gay men, Hank and his friend Andrew, who present themselves in traditionally masculine ways, and two other gay men (Nicky and a coworker, Charlie) who present themselves in more traditionally feminine terms. This is a problem because Nicky and Charlie are put in the position of being damseled. They are both physically weaker than the male villain, they are both victimized by the villain, and they both have to be rescued, at least once each, by Hank and Andrew. Hank and Andrew have more physical power, institutional power (Andrew works at City Hall), and financial power. Hank, in particular, is shown as being the primary actor in the plot and in his relationship with Nicky, while Nicky is more reactive. Hank respects Nicky’s talent and resilience but the relationship still feels uneven.
All in all, I think this works better as a historical novel with romance than a romance novel. It has the structure of a romance novel and the focus on a love story with a HEA, but the misery of the heat wave eclipses all else. In most romance novels, there’s often something the reader might want or find appealing other than the romance, whether that thing be a close-knit group of friends, a beautiful setting, cute clothes, or a spaceship. If this book taught me anything, it was that I would not want to spend time in New York City in 1896. The creation of a city under siege by terrible weather is impeccable; it just isn’t romantic.
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Thanks for the review. I’ve read a couple other Kate McMurray m/m historicals and have concluded that she’s probably not for me – I just don’t care for her voice. But the time period is very tempting to me – and thanks to your review, I now feel very confident in not reading it.
Have you read Amy Rae Durreson? This is kind of random, since she writes sff mm, but I think you’d like her if you haven’t tried her yet. My favorites are The Lodestar of Ys (which is free) and her dragon series, beginning with Reawakening (the romance is kind of secondary to the rest of the story, but the rest of the story is so good that I was OK with that).
After years of reading m/m, I’m still trying to figure out why so much of it reads like m/f, right down to the damsel in distress male character who is delicate and always in need of rescue. Why not just write m/f? It seems like you want to.
For really good, well written m/m, I strongly recommend Cat Sebastian. Her Regency series is phenomenal. Masculinity was different then, and while the characters occasionally need help with their problems, no one is a damsel and no one needs rescuing. There also weren’t characters being cast in the feminine role of heroine, either, with all that implies.
The women in the stories are smart, funny, and intelligent, and respected, too. One is a scientist, and routinely works on experiments with the main male character in one of the books. Another two are lesbian, although the book kind of leaves that vague.
Thanks for your review, Carrie. I read about half of this book before putting it aside. I may yet finish it, but I wasn’t in the mood for it at the time. I enjoyed reading your thoughts.