Joseph Hansen

Joseph Hansen, a Southern California novelist and poet best known for his groundbreaking mystery series featuring Los Angeles insurance claims investigator Dave Brandstetter, the first major gay protagonist in the mystery genre, has died. He was 81. Hansen, an activist for sexual rights who wrote for pioneering gay magazines, died Nov. 24 at his home in Laguna Beach, said a family member. The cause was heart failure due to a long respiratory illness.

Joseph Hansen, a Southern California novelist and poet best known for his groundbreaking mystery series featuring Los Angeles insurance claims investigator Dave Brandstetter, the first major gay protagonist in the mystery genre, has died. He was 81. Hansen, an activist for sexual rights who wrote for pioneering gay magazines, died Nov. 24 at his home in Laguna Beach, said a family member. The cause was heart failure due to a long respiratory illness.

Joseph Hansen's fans have mourned the passing of his Dave Brandstetter mysteries, those gems of graceful description and characterization that capture the idiosyncrasies of life in Southern California from a gay perspective. We can always hope that Hansen will be moved to devise a way of bringing Brandstetter back, but in the meantime there's consolation in the form of his new novel, "Living Upstairs," which could just lead to a new series.

When Joseph Hansen's "Living Upstairs" was published in late 1993, fans who mourned the passing of his Dave Branstetter private-eye series were cheered by this novel, which introduced us to 20-year-old struggling writer Nathan Reed, who was in the throes of a first love while living in side-street Hollywood in 1943.

At least on those disposable TV shows there are faces to watch, some of them even interesting. Joseph Hansen provides no such relief. Hansen's shortish stories, laid side by side like so many red herrings, are little more than print versions of an eternity of private-eye series, a resemblance of things past. "Five Mysteries" the stories are euphemistically called, and they revolve about one central conundrum: Who cares? Hack Bohannon seems to, though even he is suspect.

When Joseph Hansen's "Living Upstairs" was published in late 1993, fans who mourned the passing of his Dave Branstetter private-eye series were cheered by this novel, which introduced us to 20-year-old struggling writer Nathan Reed, who was in the throes of a first love while living in side-street Hollywood in 1943.

Twenty years ago Joseph Hansen did something revolutionary. He wrote a mystery whose protagonist was tough, smart and gay. The book, called "Fadeout," featured an insurance investigator named David Brandstetter. Like Philip Marlowe and a dozen other modern American sleuths, Brandstetter was a decent, courageous man working the mean streets. But on good nights, when the gunplay was over, Brandstetter went home to another man.

Joseph Hansen's fans have mourned the passing of his Dave Brandstetter mysteries, those gems of graceful description and characterization that capture the idiosyncrasies of life in Southern California from a gay perspective. We can always hope that Hansen will be moved to devise a way of bringing Brandstetter back, but in the meantime there's consolation in the form of his new novel, "Living Upstairs," which could just lead to a new series.

Twenty years ago Joseph Hansen did something revolutionary. He wrote a mystery whose protagonist was tough, smart and gay. The book, called "Fadeout," featured an insurance investigator named David Brandstetter. Like Philip Marlowe and a dozen other modern American sleuths, Brandstetter was a decent, courageous man working the mean streets. But on good nights, when the gunplay was over, Brandstetter went home to another man.

At least on those disposable TV shows there are faces to watch, some of them even interesting. Joseph Hansen provides no such relief. Hansen's shortish stories, laid side by side like so many red herrings, are little more than print versions of an eternity of private-eye series, a resemblance of things past. "Five Mysteries" the stories are euphemistically called, and they revolve about one central conundrum: Who cares? Hack Bohannon seems to, though even he is suspect.

Frances Dean Smith, a Santa Monica poet known as FrancEyE who was inspired by Charles Bukowski, lived with him and had a child with him in the 1960s, has died. She was 87. Smith, who had been living in a nursing home in San Rafael, Calif., died June 2 at Marin General Hospital in nearby Greenbrae of complications from a broken hip, her daughter, Marina Bukowski Zavala, said.

Is there another kitchen object that carries as much baggage as the apron? A whisk and a wooden spoon are, after all, tools to get the job done. But an apron? For years, aprons were commonplace and worn with pride. But somewhere along the line the apron became shorthand imagery for all that was holding women back, an emblem of humble domesticity and repression. When an apron was required for practical reasons, it certainly wasn't flaunted. (If your mom was like mine, she'd yank that apron off before answering the front door.