A love letter to The L.A. Complex

I’ve just started watching The L.A. Complex and I’m completely obsessed with it. I think it’s witty and sharp and original, with interesting character development and a wonderful level of realism despite its soapiness. Plus, it contains two things that make me want to do cartwheels:

1. A non-judgemental portrayal of the porn industry.

2. A thoughtful exploration of homosexuality in the hip hop community.


You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to watch good television about either of these things, and now there’s this show that has both.

Here are my thoughts on the first season — contain spoilers.

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Book review: The Girl On the Stairs – Louise Welsh (crime fiction, ****)

Pregnant and (mostly) alone in a strange city, protagonist Jane becomes obsessed with her teenage neighbour, The Girl On the Stairs, who she suspects of being abused. Stairs is an atmospheric, well-plotted thriller that hits all the right beats of classic crime fiction, but breaks the mould just enough to feel fresh.

Louise Welsh’s debut, The Cutting Room, was my favourite book of recent times that I hated. By that I mean: it was clear that the raw materials of good writing were there, but as a whole, the novel never came together. It’s heartening, then, to be able to witness Welsh growing into a much-improved writer in Stairs. I still feel like there’s a bit of growing left to do – for instance, Welsh repeatedly uses five images where one would suffice, and all her conversations feel like two people reading off a script – but Stairs is a novel where the good far outweighs the bad.

Welsh takes easily-identifiable situations (waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if there’s someone else in your flat; meeting a new person and wondering if they’re genuine) and uses them to underpin a story where the creepiness is understated but no less scary for it.

I loved the off-hand manner in which Jane’s sexuality (she’s a lesbian) is treated. I loved the little character/relationship details that pepper the narrative. And, most of all, I loved the denouement. It’s always with a fair amount of trepidation that one approaches the final 50 pages of a crime novel, since the ways in which the author can Fuck Up a denouement are myriad. All I’ll say of Stairs’ denouement is that it’s surprising, yet believable.

There are some themes that Welsh doesn’t quite develop all the way. The setting of Berlin seems to stand in for Any City, despite Welsh’s broad attempts to evoke its historical ghoulishness. It’s also hard to accept the idea that absolutely everyone that Jane meets in Berlin speaks good English, even down to using slang. (This felt like a missed opportunity, both in the sense that not speaking the language should contribute to Jane’s feeling of alienation, and also because broken English/malapropisms can be a great source of fun.)

Despite some minor flaws, however, Stairs is a rare crime novel that manages to be interesting and original, while still delivering the old-fashioned chills of a murder-mystery.