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Voluptuous Vixen
By Frank W. Butterfield
By the author, 2017
Four stars

It’s hard to believe that this is Frank Butterfield’s ninth book about Nick Williams. The other thing that this particular episode in the Nick and Carter series makes explicit is that this whole long set of stories has only covered a single year in the life of Nick Williams, the richest gay man in the world, and his beloved husband, ex-firefighter Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones.

There is nothing really new to say, as a reviewer, except that the adventure in “Voluptuous Vixen� is rather fun, for two distinct reasons. One, it takes place on an ocean liner called the Hilo, bound from San Francisco to Honolulu in 1954. Owing to an absurd snafu at Marnie’s wedding, Nick and Carter end up on the cruise, realizing that they are sorely in need of some real rest. The description of the ship itself, and the way people traveled in the 1950s (with steamer trunks and black-tie for dinner), is all wonderfully laid out for us—and this nostalgic look into the past is part and parcel of what makes these books so engaging. Secondly, Butterfield has decided to bring in real celebrities, in the person of Rosalind Russell and Gale Storm (of My Little Margie fame, one of the biggest early TV show hits). Russell and her husband Freddie Brisson (a great story in itself about which I knew nothing) become real participants in the narrative. This is a moment when the author drives home the fact that both Nick and Carter are indeed notorious—celebrities in their own right—and thus even more like superheroes to the embattled gay folk of the fifties. For all their wealth and power, Nick and Carter are still subject to the deeply-held homophobia of conformist America; and it is those moments of exception—such as Rosalind Russell’s candor and friendship—that bring that reality into high relief.

Butterfield has created this series with a careful balance of romanticism and historical clarity. They are meant to be rosy-colored, but the darkness always lingers at the edges. We know this is a fantasy, and that no gay guys ever lived who were like Carter and Nick; the gay world of post-War America had no heroes to give them hope amidst their (our) oppression. Gosh, I wish these books could be made into a “Masterpiece Theater�-like series of mysteries, with great production values. It is, perhaps, a reminder of the homophobia still very present in the world that such a notion is still an impossible dream.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of Nick and Carter.