'Fadeout' by Joseph Hansen
- Reed
- May 8
- 2 min read
A Dave Brandstetter Mystery (Book No. 1)
Author: Joseph Hansen
Rating: B+
Vibe: Subtly radical noir with a California cool—gritty, poignant, and way ahead of its time.
Quick Take: A slow-burn mystery that pairs classic detective grit with understated emotional depth—and introduces a gay protagonist who feels timeless in all the right ways.
When Fadeout was published in 1970, it quietly made history—a hardboiled mystery novel featuring a gay detective who wasn’t tragic, tortured, or tokenized. But what struck me most about reading it now, decades later, is how little it wears its radicalism on its sleeve. The first in a 12-book series, the era seeps in not through slurs or sensationalism, but in tone, pacing, and structure. This is a book that plugs along at its own rhythm—methodical, observational, grounded in process. In that way, it reminded me of Sue Grafton’s alphabet series. Dave Brandstetter, like Kinsey Millhone, investigates insurance claims. He’s not chasing shootouts or showdowns. He’s piecing together lives.
And what a character he is. Brandstetter is unapologetically gay, but that’s not the story. He’s confident, competent, and secure in his identity in a time when being openly gay could cost you your freedom—or your life. Hansen doesn’t make a spectacle of Dave’s sexuality. It’s part of the fabric of who he is, and that quiet confidence feels more subversive than any dramatic coming-out scene could.
There’s also real emotional weight here. Dave is grieving the loss of his partner, Rod, and I kept waiting for the reveal that it was something brutal—violence, self-harm, a hate crime. But it wasn’t. It was cancer. Just cancer. That choice—mundane, human, deeply sad—felt like the book’s quietest act of rebellion. It refused to tie gayness to trauma, even as it acknowledged grief.
The mystery itself won’t blow your socks off. There’s a twist, sure, but it’s not designed to dazzle. It’s more satisfying than shocking. The reveal plays fair, seeded in the story, grounded in character. You’ve met the killer. You just didn’t see it coming. And that feels right for a book that values character over spectacle.
But maybe what I loved most was the tone. There’s something gritty and grounded about it, yes—but also cozy in the way the best noirs can be. You feel the landscape. The California sun. The quiet desperation tucked into everyday lives. It’s not trying to be flashy or loud. It’s just doing the work. And for a debut mystery written more than fifty years ago, that sense of place and purpose holds up astonishingly well.
Read our review of Death Claims, the first Dave Brandstetter mystery.
