crimeculture
Re-writing Noir Women: Sara Paretsky's V.I. WarshawskiHelen Craine, Lancaster University
The traditional roles open to women within the noir thriller are 'exciting childless whores, or the boring, potentially child-bearing sweethearts' [1], according to Sylvia Harvey. Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski belongs in neither category. V.I. is exciting and childless, and never merely somebody's sweetheart. Whilst she sometimes has boyfriends whom she admits to caring deeply about, she is characteristically a single woman. She is clearly not portrayed as a whore; her sexuality is presented as that of a healthy modern woman rather than as transgressive or deviant. Anne Cranny-Francis describes the female detective as transgressing 'sexist female stereotypes; she is competent, intelligent and in charge of her own sexuality' [2] . However on further examination this statement could also be applied to the femme fatale. It is possible to read the female detective as a rewrite of the femme fatale, making her into a positive figure. Jon Tuska suggests that because the femme fatale has control over her own sexuality 'she is, or behaves as if she is, independent of the patriarchal order' [3] . V.I. is a more complex figure than this. She is not categorised by her sexuality in the same way that Harvey states that woman in earlier film noir are [4] ; she is not defined in relation to any men, shifting the phallocentric view point. She has control over her own sexuality, and is constantly confronted by patriarchy and continually resisting its attempts to define and redefine her. As Cranny-Francis points out, it is important that the female detective does not 'use her sexuality to manipulate her opponents or clients' [5] , a viewpoint which V.I. clearly adheres to. Morrell refers to her beautiful legs [6] , which immediately brings to mind the generic cinematic emphasis on the legs of the femme fatale. However whilst the reference to V.I.'s legs evokes the idea of the femme fatale, she also clearly differs from this image as she is not wearing a glamorous revealing dress but running shorts having had no time to change after a jog, and her legs are covered in bruises. Whilst V.I. is aware that Morrell is attracted to her she does not manipulate him or use this for her own benefit, despite later joking that Morrell took her to Nicola's mother 'whether because of my dogged determination, my impeccable logic, or my nice-looking legs.' (p 284). Women's bodies within both these texts, however, are generally described in a purely non-sexualised way, which rejects the immediate and constant sexualisation of the femme fatale's body in early noir texts and cinema. At the beginning of Hard Time the screen images of Lacey Dowell, the Mad Virgin, are described in a sexual way with her 'milky breasts thrust forward' (p 1). This acknowledges the fact that the images have been designed for the male gaze.
In Hard Time the limits to which even V.I. can have total control over her sexuality are explored. Whilst residing in Coolis jail she is subjected to both verbal and physical sexual abuse. She is sworn at using 'an array of crude words for female anatomy that startled me' (p339) and in response to lingering body searches she states that she 'had to learn to hold myself very still, very aloof, not act on the impulses of a lifetime to break an arm or separate a rib' (p323). Whilst in this corrupt patriarchal institution her control over her body and her sexuality is dramatically reduced. Since V.I has chosen to remain in jail rather than post bail in order to investigate the death of another inmate, however, she has some degree of control over the overall situation. Whilst she is called names and groped she is not raped, although she witnesses and overhears other women being assaulted in this manner, in particular an incident involving CO Polsen and Dolores:Polsen was behind the door struggling to pull down her jeans. Dolores was struggling to keep them up, hissing, 'No please don't do this, please don't do this, I'll tell the lieutenant,' and he was laughing and saying she was dirt (p 324).
V.I. suspects that women are being assaulted during the night as well by CO's coming into their rooms, as she is often woken by the sounds of 'banging doors and cries' (p 325). V.I. is all too aware that this could just as easily be her, 'If Polsen decided to come to my cell after lights-out, what would I do? The thought made me lie tense in bed that night and for some nights after' (p 326). Sergeant Lemour exists externally to the prison and yet his repeated statement to her, 'I'm going to be on you like your underwear this summer' (p 31), is both threatening and sexual. The dull passivity of Dolores as she follows CO Polsen out of the room knowing the nature of what lies ahead of her and her powerlessness in the situation is mirrored by Nicola Aguinaldo's expressionless face and quiet removal of her clothing on being summoned to have sex with Robert Baladine (p 384). This also occurs outside of the prison, and both of these demonstrate that this sexual threat to women is not limited to the jail. Helplessness is a key issue for V.I. throughout both texts. When she writes a letter to her good friend and mother-figure Dr Lotty Herschel to tell her how much she loves her, she explains that fear of helplessness is the force that drives her as a detective, and not 'the old masculine swagger that I couldn't love you if I didn't love honour more' (p 344). Hard Time also functions as social critique in V.I.'s recognition that she is helpless to prevent further degradations to women in Coolis, and as it is clear that Coolis is not entirely different from life outside of prison, so society as a whole is implicitly being criticised. V.I. is presented as a more realistic representation of female sexuality: both in control (as with the femme fatales) but also vulnerable as a woman.Christine Gledhill suggests that originally noir texts related to the post-war impulse to return the woman to the home and reassert male economic identity, via the heroic male detective figure. [7] The sweethearts/potential mothers comply with this impulse; however the childless femme fatale must be punished for her refusal of stereotypical gender roles. V.I. is a reassertion of a woman's right to exist independently within the economic structure. In breaking down the traditional noir binaries of good woman/bad woman, which can be seen as the canonical representation of woman in the virgin/whore dichotomy, V.I. is undermining patriarchy itself.
Her surrogate fathers Bobby Mallory and Mr Contreras can be interpreted as the attempts of patriarchy to restrain V.I. She suggests that Mallory's constant attempts to reprimand her are due to his inability to control her, as an independent woman, describing his 'frustration at my being grown up and a professional investigator instead of a little girl he could dandle on his knee'. [8] Mallory admonishes her throughout, yet she understands his reasons and almost deliberately provokes him at times. Mallory demonstrates the male fear of being supplanted by a daughter, or in this case a daughter-figure. Mr. Contreras also assumes a fatherly role, but is less admonishing and more protective. V.I. lets him fulfil this role for his sake, 'I just couldn't bring myself to bring the cloud of hurt to his faded brown eyes by insisting on being alone' (p 145). Mr Contreras' disapproval of all her male visitors relates to his fatherly perception that no man is good enough for her. References to V.I.'s real father are conspicuous by their absence in both of the Paretsky texts studied by this essay; allusions are minimal and overshadowed by the presence of Warshawski's mother (also deceased), who is her role model and mentor. The investigation in Toxic Shock is prompted by V.I.'s memories of her mother's kindness to the Djiak family. She does what she knows her mother would believe to be right, and she continues to live her life the way she chooses, despite being aware that her father would probably disapprove, 'I gave a sickly smile, wondering what my father would really make of the life I was leading these days' (p128). V.I.'s relationship with men is indicative of her status as a product of feminism. Throughout both novels men continually underestimate her abilities as a detective because she is a woman and are ultimately proved wrong. In the case of the criminals this misjudgement often leads to their downfall [9]. So V.I. is open to being read in part as a rewritten femme fatale due to the threat that she poses to masculinity.
V.I. is clearly a rewrite of the hard-boiled male Private Investigator. Anne Cranny-Francis states that the detective 'should compromise neither her femininity nor the conventions of the genre', and she suggests that it is this very femininity that necessitates the transformation of the role. [10] V.I., like the male hard-boiled detectives, is a first person narrator in Hard Time and Toxic Shock. This means that she has authority within the text to tell her own story; she is not mediated or interpreted by a man.
She also proves that she is tough and able to handle herself in violent situations. Cranny-Francis states that violence is traditionally a recompense to the male for the increasing autonomy of women, and it must therefore be used carefully by feminist texts, also the 'female detective can rarely outmatch a male opponent on grounds of brute strength, so she must rely on more sophisticated means of self-defence'. However, Cranny-Francis also suggests that the female detective avoids using a gun on the grounds that it can be taken from her more easily, and used against her. [11] This is not the case with V.I. who regularly carries a gun and uses it to shoot two male villains in Toxic Shock. Both of the men survive, so she has not actually killed anyone. Detective Lemour falls down the stairs and dies in Hard Time; again V.I. is not responsible for his death. V.I. only uses violence in response to male violence, as Wilson points out. [12] Rather than promoting her use of violence this serves as a critique of those who instigate it. V.I.'s use of the gun also makes her the dangerous phallic woman. Her reference to herself in Toxic Shock as 'the kid who could whip the neighbourhood' (p 225) and her reputation in prison after winning the basketball game which was played for dominance in Hard Time, demonstrate that she is capable of looking after herself during a violent confrontation. The basketball game was a stereotypically masculine approach to sporting contest; a similar incident in Hard Time is V.I.'s introduction to Alex in which she asserts herself by responding to Alex's power handshake by squeezing back harder (p 5). This physical capability is only tempered by her vulnerability at the hands of the prison CO's in Hard Time and the men who attempt to drown her in Toxic Shock. Apart from these incidents her response to male violence usually results in a positive outcome for V.I. In Toxic Shock Ed Djiak hits his wife in front of V.I. who instinctively punches him in the face. This surprises him as 'none of his women-folk had ever fought back against him' (p 237). This retaliation represents more than just a physical confrontation-it is a female assertion of equality.
Margaret Kinsman sees V.I.'s car as significant as it 'locates her firmly in the P.I. tradition', as well as authenticating her as 'an achieving professional woman with the means to buy and maintain her own status symbol'. [13]. Her car allows her to be independent within the city, to seek answers and track down criminals at any time of the day or night. Kinsman sees V.I.'s familiarity with her landscape as a demonstration of her ability to observe and interpret the world around her. [14] This allows the text to comment on society overall, in relation to class and race, as well as gender. V.I. is able to do this due to her position as outsider, which is also true of her male hard-boiled counterpart. She is an intelligent, university educated, working class woman, with an Italian immigrant mother. She is excluded from the upper class white collar world of Baladine and Trant, and as an external observer is able to seek the truth as to what is really going on in it.
If men are traditionally associated with reason and rationality in the man/woman binary, and therefore able to be effective as P.I.s, to have a woman in the detective role subverts the opposition of woman to this male rationality. Also, the detective equates the order of society, whereas a female detective subverts this order due to her gender. Kinsman points out in particular that V.I. poses this threat of disorder to Mallory and her lovers who feel they should be protecting her in the natural order of things, and that this continuous disorder undermines the text's attempt to return to order after the solving of the crime. [15] However, it is more likely that the text is not attempting to return to the previous patriarchal order, but is opening new spaces for women through V.I.
Both V.I.'s language and mentality are consistent with that of the male hard-boiled detective. Bobby Mallory (one of her surrogate father figures) disapproves of this as 'he doesn't think nice girls should talk like hard-boiled dicks. And even though he knows half the reason I do it is to ride him, he can't resist rising to the bait' (p 216). Here V.I. states she is sometimes self-consciously using the language of the male detective, as is Sara Paretsky. In Hard Time V.I. admits that her smart talking often stems from nervousness, 'I.V. Warshawski was Isaac Bashevis Singer's pen name when he wrote for the daily forward in the thirties. I'm V.I., the detective. Which one of us do you want?' (p 90) Whilst her sharpness is a point of similarity with the male detective, this admission of nerves as the cause differentiates V.I. from him. Scott Christianson's claim in reference to Sue Grafton's Kinsey Milhone is that the appropriation of the language of the male detective affords the female detective her power. This is applicable to V.I. also. The combination of first-person narrative and the hard-boiled rhetoric of wisecracks allow her to occupy space that was previously reserved for men. [16] The woman has moved away from the position of silence and mediation that she occupied in the male detective novel. The sleeve of Toxic Shock states that at the Xerxes chemical plant 'even the most innocuous questions meet with a deafening silence' [17]. It is V.I.'s job to end this silence and seek the truth as a detective, which is symbolic of her power as a woman gained from her verbosity.
In Toxic Shock both a cab driver and Ron Kappleman call V.I. a bitch. V.I. refers to one of her own facial expressions as her 'cold-hearted bitch expression' (p 198). The term bitch is reclaimed by V.I. from its use by male characters whose masculinity she has threatened, as a self-affirming term of personal strength. In Hard Time Miss Ruby points out to V.I., 'Maybe you're the toughest bitch on your block in Chicago but that makes you a challenge to the COs: they want to break you' (p334). Again, Miss Ruby's use of the word denotes strength, but also a recognised threat to male dominance, which in the eyes of the men in question must be removed. This toughness does not mean that V.I. is without emotions, but rather she is capable of controlling them as she so demonstrates in Toxic Shock whilst searching the house of her murdered childhood friend, Nancy: 'I compressed my lips tightly, trying to hold my feelings in while I picked through the rubble' (p 156). She even manages to search her friend's old bedroom, looking through old toys with 'studied indifference' (p 157). This need to remain in control is evident after she has been attacked and cannot verbalise the experience to Mallory. This is partly due to an inability to cope with the memory, but mainly caused by reluctance to essentially say to her attackers 'Hey, guys, whoever you are, you got me. You didn't kill me but you got me so scared that I am abdicating responsibility for my life' (p 183). V.I. insists on controlling her emotions as she refuses to allow fear to disable her and reduce her independence, which is a feminist stance. It is this strength of character that means she is capable of dealing with the truth, which is not the case with all of the male characters. In Toxic Shock Dr. Chigwell is incapable of dealing with certain truths. After Chigwell's failed suicide attempt Max Lowenthal points out to V.I. that 'in your search for the truth you often force people to face things about themselves they are better off not knowing, because you are very strong you don't see that other people cannot deal with these truths' (p 166). Max concedes that V.I. spares neither herself nor Lotty from home truths, but that both women are capable of acknowledging these, unlike Dr. Chigwell.
The male P.I. is characteristically a loner figure. V.I. works alone, as to have a male accomplice would suggest that a man was required to solve a case, and to have a constant female accomplice would, as Cranny-Francis points out, suggest that 'it takes two women to do a man's job'. [18] However V.I. does have people in her life that she loves and values the support of. This correlates with Hard Time's prioritisation of community. Cranny-Francis also sites Lawrence Block's statement, as quoted by Marilyn Stasio, that women aren't 'cynical loners'. [19] This suggests the female P.I is necessarily a rewriting of the male as women are different to men. It is important, however, not to become essentialist in alluding to such differences. V.I. complies with Cranny-Francis' statement that 'the detective should compromise neither her femininity nor the conventions of the genre'. [20] Sisterhood is important to the text, as V.I.'s relationships with women are prioritised. Doctor Lotty Hershel is possibly the closest person to V.I., and in Hard Time V.I. says of her, 'Somehow over the years she'd moved from being a kind of fulfilment of my Mother to a more equal friend, but she'd never lost her importance for me' (p344). Lotty is not just V.I.'s surrogate mother figure. V.I.'s sexuality has been problematised by critics such as Rebecca A. Pope, who see her statements relating to her sexuality as ambiguous. Pope also suggests that some lesbian readers of Paretsky 'have never quite understood how Vic can fight the patriarchy all day and sleep with it at night.' [21] Whilst this is a logical statement in some ways, V.I.'s position as a feminist and a heterosexual is legitimate and shared by a large number of women. Reconciling these two aspects of V.I. is part of Paretsky's texts. Therefore Pope's location of Lotty and V.I.'s friendship as a site of sexual ambiguity cannot be founded in questioning a feminist's ability to sustain relationships with men whilst resisting patriarchy. Perhaps the perceived ambiguity in V.I.'s statements, merely serve to undermine patriarchy, as part of Paretsky's breaking down of binaries: male/female, good woman/bad woman, heterosexual/homosexual. To examine woman-woman relationships in a text exploring the roles of women is important, as women should be analysed in relation to one another, rather than just in relation to a man as in the hard-boiled texts with male detectives. However to suggest that V.I. is a closet lesbian denies her character the role of truth-seeker, and her ability to be a strong independent woman in charge of her own sexuality.
In Hard Time V.I.'s assistant Mary-Louise refuses to help her: 'I've got these children I'm responsible for. I can't put my life on the line for some case you're inventing' (p201). Her hesitation followed by outright refusal to do her job, and assist V.I. in the case demonstrates that motherhood would be a hindrance to V.I. in this line of work, in having a responsibility to not enter situations that could lead to her death. Mary Louise apologises to V.I. towards the end of the text. V.I. refuses to judge her but admits that she was hurt by Mary Louise's judgement and refusal to trust her. They agree that Mary Louise should return to work for a three month trial period to see how they both feel about it. As a plot device Mary Louise's absence allowed V.I. to operate as the traditional loner detective. Mary Louise is shown to be unable to protect her children and do such a dangerous job. This isn't so much a criticism of the working mother as an illustration of V.I.'s decision to remain childless as enabling her to fulfil her role as detective. This is her choice, she has not been denied children as some kind of punishment, nor is she childless as she would be an unfit mother. Her relationship with Robbie Baladine demonstrates that she relates well to children, and much better than his own mother and father do, 'Name-calling is a horrible kind of torture, especially when it comes from your parents' (p277).
Cranny-Francis states that the differences between women are often not addressed by hard-boiled female detective novels. [22] However this is not the case in Hard Time and Toxic Shock. Miss Chigwell, in Toxic Shock, has lived her life in a supportive role to her father and brother. Whilst clearly an intelligent woman she was unable to pursue a career as women 'were supposed to marry'. Miss Chigwell recognises that V.I. is 'an intelligent active young woman' telling her, 'you do what you want, you don't take no for an answer' (p. 203). Through V.I. Miss Chigwell realises that 'a woman can live an independent life' (p 317). She illustrates the didactic nature of V.I.'s career and lifestyle to other women. In Hard Time V.I. announces to the girls who live in the neighbourhood in which Nicola died 'Women can be detectives, and I am one' (p47). V.I. is not simply defending her right to be a detective; she is teaching women and girls that this role is legitimate for them. Some women are negatively represented in comparison to V.I. She constantly alludes to her refusal to do housework (a stereotypically female task) which acts as a point of comparison with two other women in Toxic Shock; both Mrs Jurshank and Mrs Djiak are presented in a maternal and household context, continuously wearing their aprons. Both women are fearful of and submissive to their husbands. Martha Djiak's domesticity is almost caricatured during V.I.'s violent confrontation with Mr Djiak. Mrs Djiak repeatedly wipes her hands on her apron and only regains her composure when household objects are required and cleaning up needs to be done. In contrast the novel's stronger female figures are aligned with V.I. in having a less diligent approach to domestic affairs.
However, the women in the text are not only important for their roles in relation to V.I. Cranny-Francis points out that 'if the detective novel is to do more than extend the idealist construction of woman as Woman, it must engage with women's negotiation of a matrix of ideological discourses and so reveal the differences between women as well as their similarities' [23]. In Toxic Shock Louisa Djiak is a single mother who gave birth to her daughter at a time when this was socially unacceptable. She has been placed in a position of vulnerability due to the stupidity and naivete of her parents resulting in her becoming pregnant by her uncle. Louisa is a woman who has been made a victim, and yet has refused to fulfil this role allocated to her by men. Instead she has become a survivor.
If the male private investigator, in particular Marlowe, can be read as a knight in shining armour, V.I. can be seen as taking this position and refusing the role of damsel in distress. There are references to Princesses throughout the text and in particular Princess Diana. In the context she is being used to denote a woman entering into a stereotypical girl's fantasy, only to have it not come true due to the nature of the Prince. The meaning that the text gives to this image is established by Mary Louise's reference to the royal wedding: 'I stayed up all night to watch poor Diana marry Prince Creep when I was that age' (p 10). The image is next evoked by V.I. sarcastically calling Luke a Prince (he doesn't realise she is being sarcastic). On her arrival at Coolis prison V.I. states that it reminds her of a medieval castle. However, there can be no heroic knight coming to rescue the woman trapped here. CO Polsen calls her Princess Diana twice, the first time is during their first meeting after she has found the body. The second is in jail as he instructs her to return to the kitchen. He in particular is trying to place V.I. in the role of victim princess rather than detective knight.
What it means to be a woman reading these rewritings is immediately problematised by the fact that there cannot be such a unified concept as 'a woman reader'. Just as the text takes into account the differences between women as well as their similarities, they must also be taken into account when trying to reach a conclusion relating to women readers. Kinsman states that 'As a reader I reflect and relocate myself in the protagonist, in the writer, in their created structures of meaning.' [24] Whilst this sounds like a particularly self-conscious approach to a text, and one that may not be shared by all woman readers, it is plausible that women will respond to a woman protagonist in a different way to a male protagonist. A woman is more able to identify with a realistic portrayal of a strong yet vulnerable multi-faceted representation of a woman than Harvey's 'exciting childless whore' or her 'boring, potentially child-bearing, sweetheart'. [25]Sara Paretsky is self-consciously re-writing the male Private Investigator, even going so far as to have V.I. comparing herself to Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe in Hard Time, 'I certainly didn't feel like drinking. No Philip Marlowe I, downing a pint of rye every time I got injured' (p213). Whilst sharing a lot of characteristics with the male hard-boiled detective, such as language, being an outsider figure from society, and working alone amongst others, the driving force behind V.I.'s detection differs as she is motivated by a fear of helplessness. Rather than becoming a passive figure within society she takes action as part of a strategy of resistance to patriarchy and being victimised. Paretsky is also re-writing the femme fatale into a positive figure, and exploring the boundaries of being strong, independent and in charge of one's own sexuality in the face of patriarchy. V.I. is a potential role-model to the women in the text due to the aforementioned attributes which she possesses, and she also provides the women reader with a figure to whom they are able to relate, in contrast with the previous representations of women within the noir genre as either good woman or bad woman. In re-writing these noir women and destabilising such binaries, Paretsky is able to undermine patriarchy itself. This is also V.I.'s function within the text, as patriarchy continually attempts to resist her position as a female detective. As a more multi-faceted character, V.I. is therefore more realistic as a representation of a woman. However, V.I. is not a representation of all women as the text recognises the differences between women as well as their similarities. She is not the only positive female figure as different types of women are represented and explored in relation to one another also.
Bibliography
Cranny-Francis, Anne, Feminist Fiction: feminist uses of generic fiction, (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990)Irons, Glenwood, Feminism in Women's Detective Fiction, (Canada: University of Toronto Press, 1995).Kaplan, E. Ann, Women in Film Noir (London: British Film Institute, 1998)Klein, Kathleen Gregory, Women Times Three: Writers, Detectives, Readers, (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling Green State University, 1995).Paretsky, Sara, Toxic Shock, (London: Penguin Books, 1990)Paretsky, Sara, Hard Time, (London: Penguin Books, 2000)Tuska, Jon, Dark Cinema: American Film Noir in Cultural Perspective, (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1984)
Endnotes
[1] Sylvia Harvey, 'Women's Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir', Women in Film Noir, ed. by E. Ann Kaplan (London: British Film Institute, 1998) p 38.
[2] Anne Cranny-Francis, Feminist Detective Fiction (Oxford: Polity Press, 1990) 161.
[3] Jon Tuska, Dark Cinema: American Film Noir in Cultural Perspective, (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1984) p 199.
[4] Harvey, 'Women's Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir', p 38
[5] Cranny-Francis, Feminist Detective Fiction pp168-9
[6] Sara Paretsky, Hard Time, (London: Penguin Books, 2000) p 224. All other references to this text will be given parenthetically.
[7] Christine Gledhill 'Klute 1: A Contemporary Film Noir and Feminist Criticism', Women in Film Noir, ed. By E. Ann Kaplan (London: British Film Institute, 1998) pp 25-26. All further references are to this edition.
[8] Sara Paretsky, Toxic Shock (London: Penguin Books, 1990), p 89.
[9] Glenwood Irons, 'Introduction,' Feminism in Women's Detective Fiction, ed. Glenwood Irons (Canada: University of Toronto Press, 1995), p. xiv.
[10] Cranny-Francis, Feminist Detective Fiction, p16
[11] Cranny-Francis, Feminist Detective Fiction, p168
[12] Ann Wilson, 'The Female Dick and the Crisis of Heterosexuality,' in Irons (ed), p 149.
[13] Margaret Kinsman, 'A Question of Visibility: Paretsky and Chicago', Women Times Three: Writers, Detectives, Readers ed by Kathleen Gregory Klein (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling Green State University Popular Press, 1995) p23
[14] Kinsman, 'A Question of Visibility: Paretsky and Chicago', pp 23-24.
[15] Kinsman, 'A Question of Visibility: Paretsky and Chicago', p 22. [16] Scott Christianson, 'Talkin' Trash and Kickin' Butt: Sue Grafton, Feminism in Women's Detective Fiction, ed.by Glenwood Irons (Canada: University of Toronto Press, 1995) p136.
[17] Paretsky, sleeve of Toxic Shock
[20] Cranny-Francis, Feminist Detective Fiction, p166
[21] Rebecca A. Pope ''Friends is a Weak Word for It': Female Friendship and the Spectre of Lesbianism in Sara Paretsky' , Feminism in Women's Detective Fiction, ed.by Glenwood Irons (Canada: University of Toronto Press, 1995) p157
[24] Kinsman, 'A Question of Visibility: Paretsky and Chicago', p15.
[25] Sylvia Harvey, 'Women's Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir', p38.