The novel’s initial release coincided with a specific era of grunge and queer visibility in Australian literature. Plus, the increasingly globalised publishing industry in Australia means that there are fewer small presses willing to take risks on such innovative stories. Finally, although queer representation has come a long way, the complexity of achieving positive representation for the community means that texts with morally grey characters – like those present in Porter’s work – are culturally and commercially avoided.

A large part of what led to the success of Porter’s work (other than the quality), was the literary and social context.

I identified two major factors that contributed to The Monkey’s Mask’s positive reception. The first is the increase in lesbian and feminist writing produced around the time of the publishing date. The second is the niche trend of grunge literature that became popular in Australia during the 90s.

Sydney literature and lesbians in the 90s

The advent of Mardi Gras in Sydney during the 1970s set off a chain reaction where queer issues became more visible, and consequently queer representation in Australian media and literature became more mainstream. The combination of improving queer rights and the then recent removal of Australia’s international censorship regime meant that Australian writers were free to read and write about sexuality in a much less restricted fashion. For the lesbian community, this manifested in more writing about sexuality and sex being produced. The 90s saw success in television programs featuring lesbian characters, magazines discussing lesbian sex and several literary texts. Between the years 1988 and 1997, three separate lesbian texts set in Sydney were released in the genre of crime thriller. There was Leslie Thompson’s Seven Miles from Sydney, Claire McNab’s Lessons in Murder and of course, The Monkey’s Mask. To have this many lesbian texts set in such a niche genre and location demonstrates the demand for these texts in 90s Sydney and, consequently, shows that The Monkey’s Mask was released in a time and place where it was inevitably going to find success. Furthermore, the book contains many lines that highlight how concepts of sexual liberation and feminist thought were becoming mainstream in this period. Porter includes a whole poem titled ‘Her breasts’, in which the main character Jill describes her lovers’ breasts without restraint or apology, a kind of description that would have been unheard of in prior mainstream texts (Porter 69).

The 90s and the grunge literary scene

In addition to the momentum queer writing was picking up during this period, there was also a demand for edgy texts exploring nihilistic narratives. This trend was termed ‘grunge’, which was defined by stories that featured pessimistic, realist and gritty portrayals of urban city life. The Monkey’s Mask was published during this era and caters to many of these topics. Jill is unable to pursue Mickey’s murderers since they both have the power to sue her if she tries (Porter 254). Additionally, the very thing that kills Mickey, and almost Jill too, is ‘reckless, careless sex’ (Porter 245).

The Monkey’s Mask emerged at a time when queerness and ‘dirty realism’ were becoming mainstream. In a way, the book was published just in time, because commercialisation, audience-centric prioritisation and the globalisation of the publishing industry would have deemed the book too risky to publish later. In other words, The Monkey’s Mask was published just after the subject matter became uncontroversial enough, and just before the politics of queer representation and risky works in the industry became too sanitised and specific for the complexity of Porter’s content.

The opening up of the Australian publishing industry to multinational publishing giants has caused the production of niche, radical and ambitious texts to dwindle. Big publishers are more concerned with commercial success than with creating a literary canon or pushing forward new ideas, and as larger companies take over smaller ones, the capacity for Australia to produce non-profit-driven stories shrinks. Lesbian, feminist and small publishers such as Sybylla and Spinifex have historically provided a supportive editing environment and ideal starting point for new Australian writers. It is the job of those in the industry to curate a culture and highlight areas that need change. However, since most publishing giants are not interested in creating or contributing to an Australian culture or literary canon, international texts and bestsellers, or more commercially viable writing, end up taking priority. As a result, Australian writers face the choice of either a lack of success or a lack of authenticity. This does not necessarily mean there is less queer writing overall; however, it does mean less Australian queer writing and certainly a different style of it. For instance, the print sections of lesbian magazines such as LOTL and feminist presses like Spinifex have been axed due to lack of profit.

The Monkey’s Mask was originally published by a small press called Hyland House in 1994, before being picked up by Pan Macmillan in 2000, indicating it was not acquired by a larger publisher until it had already achieved some success. What this demonstrates is the timidity of publishers to release anything radical (or dare I say, interesting?). Given this timidity has clearly only grown more severe, it is hard to imagine any big-name publishers giving the text a chance today. Especially when you consider the ways the text challenged and subverted genre conventions with its form as a poetic verse crime thriller.

The Monkey’s Mask was written at a time when writers and readers had the freedom to produce or read whatever they wanted without outside intervention. However, even though we still have the freedom to write about these topics, the market is flooded with too much commercial competition for Australian works to break through. The Sydney setting is vital to Porter’s text. She consistently used terms like ‘Aussie’ and name-drops suburbs like ‘Blacktown’ and ‘Penrith’ (Porter 32). She pokes fun at the particular conventions observable in Sydney’s poetry scene. It is an unapologetically Australian book, both in its use of vernacular and setting. So, it is clear that The Monkey’s Mask would not be successful today because of the globalisation of the writing industry.

Following this point, it is vital to acknowledge that although many queer texts are released today, many of these narratives fail to tell stories with the same honesty and complexity as The Monkey’s Mask due to a need to placate audiences sensitive to negative portrayals and to achieve commercial success.

The paradox of queer representation

While there is arguably a lot more content featuring lesbians and queerness today, these portrayals arguably tend to lack nuance and complexity. Historically, queer authors have been pressured to write tragic or unflattering endings for their queer characters. However, as barriers the lesbian community used to face disappear, the content about them has shifted to more homonormative narratives. These narratives include increasingly common storylines about same-sex marriage, IVF and adoption. Additionally, instances where mainstream queer content fails to name the sexualities of their lesbian or bisexual characters are often met with criticism and accusations of erasure. Queer literature faces a disproportionate amount of criticism when it comes to the representation of queer characters. It may not be entirely unfounded, but the high expectations of portraying the community perfectly and as good people who get happy endings inevitably make it difficult for stories like The Monkey’s Mask to thrive.

I do not wish to argue that things for lesbians and the queer community were better then than they are now, to be clear: they are not. However, I would argue that the portrayal of lesbian characters in mainstream media has led members of the community to be hurt, angry and naturally suspicious of any media being produced now. The cultural weight of all the wrongdoings the community has faced over the years leads people to question the motivations behind a piece of work; so that even when a queer book by a queer author is released, it is held to a standard and level of scrutiny that goes beyond what can reasonably be expected. One such example can be seen in the criticism the movie Love Simon received for being ‘homonormative’ despite being written by a bisexual woman. Because queerness is only accepted in literature as long as it is commercially viable, I believe there is an unspoken, underlying anxiety that at any moment, the mainstream perspective could shift, and people could start seeing queers as a disgusting sort of threat again. There is no solidity in the current cultural standing we occupy, so everything we produce must prove we are not monsters. For better or for worse, The Monkey’s Mask would not ease this anxiety if it were released today.

Representation in The Monkey’s Mask

Queer literature faces a disproportionate amount of criticism when it comes to the representation of queer characters. This may not be entirely unfounded, but the high expectations make it difficult for stories like The Monkey’s Mask to be published, since these stories include morally grey characters and tragedy. There are many aspects of Porter’s text that modern readers may take issue with. Jill rejects positive and healthy romantic connections for toxic ones, citing a need not to be ‘fat and dozy’, which could imply that lesbianism cannot be healthy (Porter 44). Jill is ‘hard’ and masculine in her attitude, resembling the male loner archetype from other detective novels (Porter 15). Jill’s presentation could be problematised for perpetuating the idea that there is always a more masculine woman in a same-sex relationship. Additionally, Diana is portrayed as liking men and women; however, in the end, she chooses her husband over Jill and dismisses her affair with Jill, saying, ‘Dykes always go for me’ (Porter 237). By saying this, she separates herself from sapphic sexuality and implies that Jill pursued her with no reciprocation. In this way, Porter arguably weaponises multiple harmful stereotypes about bisexuality; namely, that bisexual women will always go back to men, and that they will always cheat. While these critiques of Porter’s portrayal may be well-founded, it is worth noting that exchanging nuanced characters for purely positive representations severely limits the capacity of authors to write more interesting and genuine narratives around queer identity. So, not only is there less room for ambitious forms and radical concepts when it comes to contemporary Australian literature, but despite all the progress the queer community has made in improving living conditions and visibility, the portrayal of characters is still just as (if not sometimes more) restrictive than it was prior to that brief period of openness in the 90s.

All and all, it’s no wonder I was surprised by the content in The Monkey’s Mask; there have been few texts like it since its publishing. The opportunity the novel was given to succeed was largely largely a result of the increasing visibility of lesbians in Sydney and the trend of ‘grunge’ literary texts, but the globalisation and commercialisation of the Australian publishing industry (along with heightened expectations surrounding queer representation), would make it an impossible text to release today. Large publishers would likely never go for it due to its radical form and the fact that even queer audiences would likely find the representation offensive.

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