Coming Home After School, Flying My Bike Past the Gates of the Factories*

Sometimes it happens as early as eight or nine years old, and sometimes not until the mid-teen years. But there’s usually some point in life where we come of age – where we begin to see others’ perspectives and see the other people in our lives differently. We stop seeing life through the eyes of little children and begin to see it with more maturity. A lot of people think of ‘coming of age’ stories as being either ‘literary’ or perhaps YA stories but the fact is, coming of age plays a role in crime fiction too. And when it’s done well, we can get a real sense not just of the crime that’s featured in the plot, but also of the fundamental changes that happen to us as we start to cross that threshold.

We see that combination for instance in James W. Fuerst’s Huge. Twelve-year-old Eugene ‘Huge’ Smalls has his share of challenges. He has trouble making friends, he isn’t really good at controlling his anger and his relationships with his teachers are not exactly productive. And yet, he’s a brilliant boy. Huge’s real dream in life is to be a detective like Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe or Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade. Huge gets his chance when his grandmother hires him. She wants him to find out who defaced the sign at the retirement home where she lives. Huge agrees and immediately begins looking for suspects. Among them are several of the people he knows at school and as Huge considers each of them, we watch as he slowly begins to grow up. He learns more about them and himself than he imagined he would.

In Catherine O’Flynn’s What Was Lost, we meet ten-year-old Kate Meaney. Kate wants more than anything else to be a detective, and she’s even started her own agency Falcon Investigations. Kate doesn’t have a lot of friends, but that doesn’t bother her. She has her agency, her business partner Mickey the Monkey (a stuffed animal who rides along with her in her backpack) and she has Green Oaks Shopping Center, which has just opened. Kate suspects that Green Oaks will be a very good place to look for suspicious characters so she spends as much time there as she can. In some ways, Kate is very mature for her age but in a lot of ways, she’s still very much a child with a child’s imagination and a child’s refusal to see the dreariness of much of her Midlands town. Then her world changes. Her grandmother Ivy believes that Kate would be better off going away to school so she arranges for her to sit the entrance exams at the exclusive Redspoon school. Kate is reluctant to go but she’s finally persuaded by her friend Adrian Palmer, who even promises to go with her to the school. The two go to Redspoon but Kate never returns. Her body isn’t discovered but everyone suspects that Adrian is responsible for her disappearance. In fact, he leaves town swearing not to return. Twenty years later, we learn what really happened to Kate when Adrian’s sister Lisa and a Green Oaks security guard Kurt form an unlikely friendship and begin to look into the past.

Pablo De Santis’ The Paris Enigma introduces us to Sigmundo Salvatrio, the son of a Buenos Aires shoemaker. Salvatrio is enthralled with detection so he is overjoyed when he gets the opportunity to attend the exclusive Academy for Detectives run by world-famous sleuth Renato Craig. Craig is the co-founder of a group of other world-famous detectives known as The Twelve that is slated to do a presentation during the 1889 World’s Fair in Paris. However, shortly before he’s scheduled to leave Buenos Airies for the fair, Craig falls ill and cannot attend. He sends Salvatrio in his place and that’s when the boy’s coming of age really begins. One of the other members of the Twelve is murdered and Salvatrio works with the group’s other co-founder Viktor Arkazy to find out who the killer is. Then there is another murder and Salvatrio learns plenty of lessons about adult reality.

Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce is also at the crossroads between childhood and adolescence. On the one hand, she’s very knowledgeable about chemistry, quite observant and intelligent. On the other hand she’s still got a child’s way of looking at life in some ways. She’s got two older sisters who are the bane of her existence and a father to whom she’s devoted. She’s at the same time both savvy and imaginative. For instance, in A Red Herring Without Mustard, she has an encounter with a Gypsy who starts to tell her fortune. Flavia begins to think that the Gypsy may have been able to connect with her mother Harriet, who died when Flavia was a baby. Here’s a bit of their conversation:

 

‘‘Tell me about the woman you saw on the mountain,’ I said. ‘The one I shall become.’…
‘Cross my palm with silver,’ she demanded, sticking out a grubby hand.
‘But I gave you a shilling,’ I said. “That’s what it says on the board outside.
‘Messages from the Third Circle cost extra,’ she wheezed. ‘They drain my batteries.’
I almost laughed out loud. Who did this old hag think she was? But still, she seemed to have spotted Harriet beyond the veil, and I couldn’t let skepticism spoil even half a chance of having a few words with my dead mother.’

 

It’s that mix of childhood and a more mature outlook that makes Flavia an interesting sleuth and in this case, she puts her skills to work when the Gypsy who seems to know so much about her life is found murdered.

Megan Abbott’s The End of Everything is the story of the tragic coming of age of thirteen-year-old Lizzie Hood. She is best friends with Evie Verver and the two girls tell each other all their secrets. Everything changes when Evie doesn’t come home from school one afternoon. At first, no-one worries that much about her absence but as evening wears on and she still hasn’t come home, her parents get worried. They and later the police ask Lizze for all of the information she has. As Evie’s best friend, she may know something Evie never told her family. But Lizzie doesn’t remember much and isn’t able to be of any help.  But she is desperate to find her best friend so she decides to do her own investigation to try to get some answers. As she does so, she learns that a lot of the childlike beliefs she had about Evie may very well not have been accurate. And as she really confronts the tragedy of Evie’s disappearance, Lizzie has to look at things with a different and painfully more mature perspective.

William Kent Krueger’s Ordinary Grace tells of one terrible summer in the life of Frank Drum. In the summer of 1961, Frank Drum is thirteen years old and mostly occupied with playing baseball, going to the local river and finding adventure where he can. His best friend is his younger brother Jake, although as the book begins he isn’t usually willing to admit it. The summer begins to pall when a boy Frank and Jake knew is killed on a local railroad track. Everyone thinks at first that it was an accident, but it might not have been so accidental. There are other deaths too. But the most tragic event, and the pivotal event for Frank Drum, is when there is a murder in his own family. Now he has to grow up quickly and look in a different way at people he’s always known. Little by little he learns the truth about what happened as he and Jake find some evidence, listen in on conversations and so on. As Frank begins to make sense of the events around him, we see how he starts by thinking in a fairly childish way but matures as the summer goes on.

Not all of these novels are what most people think of ‘typical’ crime fiction novels (as though there were such a thing). But they all have an interesting mix of the coming-of-age theme and of course, crime. It’s not easy to tell a story through the eyes of a young person coming of age but when it works well the result can be a really innovative perspective.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Simon and Garfunkel’s My Little Town.

Living on the Edge of the Century*

It’s been called different things in different places. In France it was called La Belle Époque. In a lot of other places – especially those with a UK connection – it was called the Late Victorian Era. In the U.S. it’s been referred to sometimes as the Gilded Age. The last few decades of the 19^th Century left lasting legacies on society, music, art, business, immigration, education and even architecture. And that’s not to mention the tremendous influence of the literature of the times. As any crime fiction fan knows, the detective story, where there is a crime, a sleuth and an investigation, has its roots in the 19^th Century so it’s only fitting I think to take a look at the end of that era.

In some ways it was a very optimistic time. Science and technology had advanced so much that there was a strong surge of faith in human capacities. We see that optimism in Pablo De Santis’ The Paris Enigma, which takes place in part at the 1889 Paris World’s Fair. Sigmundo Salvatrio is the son of a Buenos Aires shoemaker, but he dreams of being a detective. Famous detectives are the celebrities of the day and Salvatrio wants to be among their number. To his delight he is accepted at the Academy for Detectives run by the world-famous sleuth Renato Craig. Craig is the co-founder of an international group of famous sleuths known as The Twelve, which is gong to make a presentation at the 1889 World’s Fair in Paris. When illness forces Craig to cancel his plans to go to Paris, he sends Salvatrio in his place. Salvatrio travels to Paris and meets the other members of The Twelve, including the group’s other co-founder Viktor Arkazy. When group member Louis Darbon is killed, Salvatrio works with Arkazy to find out who the murderer is. Through Salvatrio’s eyes we get to see the technological and scientific developments on display at the World’s Fair and it’s clear that it’s a time of real hope for the future.

There’s a real emphasis on scientific and technological advancement in perhaps the world’s most famous detective stories, Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Homes adventures. Detective stories had been popular for few decades by the time Conan Doyle created Holmes, but the first fictional detectives such as Edgar Allan Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin didn’t really use science and scientific logic to solve their crimes. And that makes sense, given that Dupin was created just ten years after the term scientist was first really used. But by the time Holmes was created in the late 1880’s, scientific study had gained a foothold on people’s thinking. And we see that change in Holmes’ approach to detection. Holmes does not solve mysteries by guesswork or serendipity. He uses science, reason and logical deduction. He makes observations, he deduces what they must mean and he uses those observations to inform his theory of the crime. Holmes fans will know that Holmes notices details such as a hat that hasn’t been brushed (The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle) or a certain rubbing pattern on a sleeve (The Adventure of the Red-Headed League) and that he uses those details to solve mysteries.

The late 19^th Century was also a time of deeply entrenched class divisions. There was a belief that hard work and ‘upright living’ could move one out of the lowest classes and into ‘respectable’ middle class life. Just read any Horatio Alger novel to see what I mean. But there were limits to one’s chances in life and perhaps nothing limited opportunities at this time more than social class. Wilkie Collins’ novels give a really interesting depiction of those divisions. For instance, The Moonstone is the story of a famous diamond originally taken from a Hindu temple by Colonel John Herncastle. The diamond is said to be cursed, and certainly bad luck seems to befall Herncastle after he steals it. He has a falling-out with his sister Lady Julia Verinder and as a way of cursing her family he bequeaths the diamond to his niece Rachel (Julia’s daughter) as a gift for her eighteenth birthday. On that same night, the diamond is stolen and Sergeant Cuff investigates the theft. Although at first he doesn’t solve the mystery, he does begin to follow the trail of the diamond and in the end (and after a murder) we find out what happened to the jewel. This story is told from a variety of different perspectives, including that of Gabriel Betteredge, head of the Verinder household staff. Through his eyes we see the very clear differences among the classes and the strong belief that those in the upper classes were indeed their employees’ ‘social betters.’ There were clear expectations at the time for how members of different classes ‘ought to’ behave, and we see that in this novel too. Collins’ novels are also interesting in that they reflect the sensationalism that was so popular at this time.

We also see marked class differences in Emily Brightwell’s Mrs. Jeffries historical mystery series. Mrs. Jeffries is housekeeper to Inspector Gerald Witherspoon and in that capacity she oversees the work of Witherspoon’s cook Mrs. Goodge, his footman Wiggins, his coachman Smythe, and his maid Betsy. Withersppon is a police inspector but it’s really Mrs. Jeffries and her staff who help solve cases. Even though she’s in charge of his household and all of the household accounts, Mrs. Jeffries is not considered Witherspoon’s social equal. Although he treats her with respect and certainly appreciates her skills, he doesn’t knowingly defer to her. It’s probably more accurate to say that she’s learned how to suggest ideas to him so as to make him take certain directions in his cases. And Witherspoon’s cases often lead him into the homes of the richest and most powerful families. So in this series we also see the divisions between middle and upper-middle class families and the ‘best’ families.

The way in which women are depicted in crime fiction of and about the era is really interesting because it reveals two realities. On one hand, we see the Victorian and late-Victorian image of the woman as inferior, as needing to be protected and so on. For instance in several of the Conan Doyle stories (e.g. The Adventure of the Speckled Band), Holmes has lady clients who need to be ‘saved.’ We also see that kind of role in some of Wilkie Collins’ work. But at the same time, we see another image of women beginning to emerge. Arguably the first female fictional detective is Mrs. Gladden, who makes her appearance in Andrew Forrester’s 1864 novel The Female Detective. She may be restricted by her times but she is certainly not in need of ‘salvation.’ And it’s arguably Marian Halcombe who solves the case in Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White. And then of course there is ‘the woman’ – Arthur Conan Doyle’s Irene Adler. Any character who can outwit Holmes is certainly not inferior.

This duality seems (to me at least) to be a reflection of the times. On the one hand, there were very clearly defined roles for women in just about every class and sexism was an important fact of life. On the other, women were beginning to question those roles and assumptions. For instance, the late 19^th Century saw the women’s suffrage movement take hold. Women were also a major force behind the temperance movement and began to take positions in academia. They also became accepted as writers and poets. If you’re a woman and you have a professional position outside the home, vote, have access to your own money and make your own choices in life, you owe a lot to the women of the late 19^th Century. I know I do. 

You also owe a lot to the writers of this era if you’re a crime fiction fan. Yes, the detective stories of the era often seem stilted by today’s standards. They’re sometimes clunky, full of offensive ‘isms’ and require the kind of suspension of disbelief that wouldn’t be accepted from today’s writers. But those stories were the first of the genre and they take place during a fascinating and very influential time. And really – aren’t late-Victorian-Era houses great settings for murder mysteries?

There’s a lot more about the late Victorian Era that space doesn’t permit me to mention. Immigration, for instance, became a fact of life in a lot of countries. Imperialism was a major force too. And because there were no real ‘social nets,’ there was true squalor. But there were also elegant parties, sometimes extravagantly beautiful clothes, and amazing leaps forward in discovery, learning and scientific development. There was real optimism too. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if those people had known what was around the proverbial corner in the early 20^th Century…  Want to read more about the late 19^th Century? Check out K.B. Owen’s terrific blog. Her historical mystery Dangerous and Unseemly will be coming out very soon. Featuring her sleuth Concordia Wells, it looks to be a terrific story and I’m excited about its release.

 

ps. The ‘photo is of a late-Victorian house on Broad Street in Galesburg, IL. I used to walk my dogs past it when I lived there.

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Styx’s Edge of the Century.

But I’ve Reason to Believe We All Will Be Received in Graceland*

One of the things people love to do when they travel is visit famous places – monuments if you want to call them that. We’re drawn to places such as the pyramids in Egypt, the Washington Monument in Washington DC, Buckingham Palace and the Taj Mahal at Agra for a number of reasons. They’re beautiful, they’re richly steeped in history and they’re often interesting in their own right. They also can make really interesting backdrops to crime fiction novels, especially for those who enjoy virtual travel as they read.

Several of Agatha Christie’s novels have monuments and famous places as their backgrounds. For instance, in Death on the Nile, newlyweds Simon and Linnet Doyle are taking a honeymoon cruise of the Nile, during which they stop at several of the famous pyramids. On the second night of the cruise, Linnet is shot. The most likely suspect is Linnet’s former best friend (and Simon’s former fiancée) Jacqueline de Bellefort. But she has an unimpeachable alibi, so someone else must have murdered Linnet Doyle. Hercule Poirot is on the cruise as is Colonel Race. So the two of them look among the other passengers to see who would have wanted to kill the victim and why. In Christie’s Appointment With Death, the ancient city of Petra is the tourist destination for the American Boynton family. While they’re there, matriarch Mrs. Boynton dies of what turns out to be a deliberate overdose of digitalis. Poirot is traveling in the Middle East and works with Colonel Carbury to find out who the murderer is, and they’ve got several suspects from whom to choose. Mrs. Boynton was a mental tyrant and all of the members of her family wanted to be free of her. In the end, that tyrannical personality is the reason she’s killed.

There are many famous places in the US capital of Washington, so it’s not surprising that they figure in the setting for murders that take place there. Margaret Truman’s Capital Crimes series focuses on several of those places. For example, Murder in the White House, her debut, is the story of the murder of Secretary of State Lansford Blaine. Blaine is shot late one night in one of the high-security areas of the White House, where the tourists don’t get to go. President-elect Robert Webster wants to give the impression that the investigation of the murder is transparent. So he appoints Special Counsel to the President Ron Fairbanks the task of overseeing that investigation. Fairbanks begins to look into the murder and finds out that there are several people who might have had a good motive for murder – including Webster himself. Washington’s Kennedy Center is the setting for the murder of campaign staffer Andrea Feldman in Truman’s Murder at the Kennedy Center. The sleuth in that novel is attorney and Georgetown School of Law professor Mackensie “Mac” Smith. Feldman worked for Senator Ken Ewald, a friend of Smith’s. When Ewald’s son is accused of the murder, Ewald asks Smith to act for the family. This means that Smith will have to find out who really killed Feldman, and there’s a list of people who could have committed the crime. In the end we find that Feldman was killed because she trusted where she should not have trusted.

Julie Hyzy’s White House Chef series features chef Olivia “Ollie” Paras. This series of course also takes place mostly at the White House, and readers get an “inside look” at the workings of one of the US’s best-known landmarks.

Rita Mae Brown’s Murder at Monticello takes place at the Virginia home of US president Thomas Jefferson. An archaeological team led by Kimball Hayes has been granted permission to excavate the ruins of a cottage that’s recently been discovered at Monticello. There’s a gala to celebrate the official beginning of the dig, and several locals, including Brown’s sleuth postmistress Mary Minor “Harry” Haristeen are invited. To the dig team’s surprise, they discover the skeleton of a man who died in that cottage in the early 1800’s. When word gets round about the skeleton, there’s a lot of speculation as to the victim’s identity and what he might have been doing at the cottage. Then, Kimball Haynes is shot. Now, Sheriff Rick Shaw and Deputy Sheriff Cynthia “Coop” Cooper have two murder investigations on their hands. Harry suspects that there is a local connection to both murders and in the end we find that someone in the area did not want some historical truths to come to light.

Riley Adams’ (AKA Elizabeth Spann Craig) Memphis Barbecue series features Aunt Pat’s Barbecue, a popular Memphis restaurant. Aunt Pat’s is owned by Lulu Taylor and her family and is a watering hole for the locals. A group of those locals also serve as docents at Elvis Presley’s home at Graceland. In Finger Lickin’ Dead, Flo, one of the docents and a friend of Lulu Taylor’s, is helping a particularly difficult bride named Ashley and her mother Cynthia arrange a wedding at Graceland’s chapel, and everything has to be perfect. The wedding plans take second place in everyone’s mind when Adam Cawthorn is found murdered. Cawthorn is the real person behind “Eppie Currian,” a restaurant critic who’s been excoriating local restaurants, so there are plenty of suspects including his ex-wife and soon-to-be-wife-again Evelyn Wade, who is also a friend of Lulu Taylor’s. Then, on the afternoon of Cawthorn’s funeral, his wife Ginger, from whom he was separated, is also murdered. Lulu is sure that her friend is not guilty of either murder and begins to ask questions. Meanwhile the Graceland wedding looms closer and everyone’s frantically trying to help Flo get ready for it. I don’t think it’s giving away spoilers to say that Graceland is the scene of the wedding and a dramatic showdown with the killer, and nearly the scene of another murder.

And then there’s Pablo de Santis’ The Paris Enigma. In that novel, we meet Sigmundo Salvatrio, son of a Buenos Aires shoemaker and aspiring detective. He is thrilled when he selected to be one of the “chosen few” admitted to the Academy for Detectives founded by world-famous sleuth Renato Craig. Craig is one of a group of top-notch detectives known as The Twelve, which is slated to do a presentation at the upcoming Paris World’s Fair. When Craig proves unable to attend the fair, he sends Salvatrio in his place. Salvatrio travels to Paris and meets the rest of The Twelve, including the group’s co-founder Viktor Arkazy. Everything is all ready for the opening of the fair when Paris detective Louis Darbon, one of the The Twelve, is murdered in a fall from the brand-new Eiffel Tower. Then there’s another death. Now it looks as though someone is targeting the members of The Twelve. Salvatrio works with Arkazy to find out who the killer is.

There are a lot of other crime fiction novels that take place at monuments and other famous places – many more than I have room for in this post. Which ones have you enjoyed?

 

ps. The ‘photo is of Sky Tower. Located in Auckland, it’s the tallest human-made structure in the Southern Hemisphere. See that narrow point close to the top? I was up there; it was an incredible experience…

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Paul Simon’s Graceland.

Got to Pay Your Dues if You Want to Sing the Blues*

For most people, real professional success takes a lot of hard work and a long time. It doesn’t come easily. People who want to be really good at something usually have to “pay their dues” and hone their skills. Being willing to do that means one has to be humble enough about one’s own skills to learn, and patient enough to take the time to learn. That’s not always easy to do, especially if one’s got natural talent. The process of “putting in time” can teach us a lot if we’re willing to be open to it, and it can make for a very interesting sub-plot or theme for a novel. Characters who are “paying their dues” can add layers of interest to a novel, and so can the process of learning. So can the social structure that comes from having to “pay one’s dues.” In fact, it’s really interesting to see just how many of those characters there are in crime fiction.

For example, Eileen Rich is “paying her teaching dues” at Meadowbank, an exclusive girls’ school, in Agatha Christie’s Cat Among the Pigeons. She’s passionate about teaching and skilled, too. But she’s young and inexperienced and she knows it. New games mistress Grace Springer is also “paying her dues” at Meadowbank, but she takes a very different attitude towards what’s supposed to be the process of learning. Springer is arrogant about her own importance, doesn’t get along with the other mistresses and is not a success with the pupils, either. She also has the unfortunate belief that it’s her duty to find out things about people, so she snoops. When she’s shot late one night in the school’s new Sports Pavilion, no-one particularly misses her, although everyone’s shocked. Inspector Kelsey is called in to investigate and it’s soon clear that Springer was shot because she’d gone snooping where it was not safe for her to snoop. Then there’s a kidnapping and then another death. Pupil Julia Upjohn discovers one important piece of the puzzle and pays a visit to Hercule Poirot, asking him to investigate. He agrees and discovers that the deaths and kidnapping are related to a revolution in a Middle Eastern sultanate and a fortune in stolen jewels. The difference between the two young teachers is an interesting contrast. And in an interesting sub-plot, Headmistress Honoria Bulstrode is planning her retirement and debates whether to invite Eileen Rich to succeed her, even though Rich is still “paying her dues.”

There’s a very interesting contrast between DI Kate Miskin, whom we first meet in P.D. James’ A Taste for Death, and Agent Yvette Nichol, whom we meet in Louise Penny’s Still Life. In A Taste for Death, Miskin’s just been appointed to a special squad dedicated to delicate cases that are likely to attract a lot of media attention. That squad is put to the test when Crown Minister Paul Berowne is brutally murdered in a local church. In Still Life, Nichol’s just been named to the Sûreté du Québec and is very pleased with herself and proud of her accomplishment. She gets her first homicide assignment when beloved former teacher Jane Neal is killed near the rural town of Three Pines. Both women are assigned to work with team leaders who are interested in helping them learn and who are happy to serve as mentors; in Miskin’s case, Commander Adam Dalgliesh is in charge and in Nichol’s case it’s Chief Inspector Armand Gamache.  There are other similarities between the two women, but the way in which they handle their status and their cases turns out to be very different. Miskin does her job well and although she is not at all sycophantic, she is willing to learn and grateful for the opportunity. She’s got a “chip on her shoulder” because of the social class differences between her and the “well-born” Dalgliesh and upper-middle-class DCI John Massingham, who’s also on the team, but she works hard to put that aside and be an effective part of the team. For his part, Dalgliesh values her input and teaches her without condescending to her. Things are quite different for Yvette Nichol. She is smart and capable, but she’s so eager to prove how good she is that she’s unwilling to watch and learn. She’s smug and arrogant, and although Gamache tries more than once to counsel her and help her fit in, she simply doesn’t listen. In fact, she blames Gamache for the conflicts that arise between her and the rest of the team (to say nothing of the residents of Three Pines). While Kate Miskin understands the process of “paying one’s dues” without being a toady, Yvette Nichol does not.

Ellis Peters’ Brother Oswin, whom we first meet in The Leper of St. Giles, gives us another glimpse of what it’s like to “pay one’s dues.”  He enters 12^th Century Shrewsbury Abbey as a novice and acolyte to Brother Cadfael, the abbey’s herbalist and Peters’ sleuth. Brother Oswin is eager to please and eager to learn, so in that sense, he understands that his role is to learn and gain in knowledge. But he’s a little overeager and clumsy, too, and he tests Brother Cadfael’s patience to the limit. Here, for example, is Cadfael’s first impression of Oswin:

“His fingers were all thumbs but his zest and confidence were absolute. He knew he could do all, his will being so beneficent, and fumbled at the first balk, forever astonished and aghast at the results he produced…Under reproof, having broken, wrecked, mismanaged and burned, he rode the tide serenely, penitent, assured of grace, confident of avoiding all repetition of failure. Cadfael liked him…and gloomily made large allowance for the damage the lad was certain to do whenever left to follow instructions unsupervised.”

Oswin is in many ways not at all a promising novice but as the novels progress, we see him grow wiser, more skilled and less eager to “plunge in” without thinking about what he’s doing.

Margaret Truman introduces us to rookie cop Matthew Jackson in Murder Inside the Beltway. When call girl Rosalie Curzon is found bludgeoned to death in her apartment, Jackson and Detective Mary Hall investigate the case under the supervision of veteran Walt Hatcher. Hatcher looks down on Jackson in part because of Jackson’s mixed-race heritage, but also because Jackson’s college-educated while Hatcher is of the “old school,” a cop who moved up through the ranks without higher education. Hatcher wastes few opportunities to put Jackson in his place and remind him that he’s supposed to be doing what he’s told. In the meantime, a nasty political battle is brewing between incumbent U.S. president Burton Pyle and his challenger in the upcoming election Robert Colgate. Then, a friend of Colgate’s daughter is abducted and the police swing into full action. When Hall and Jackson uncover a connection between Colgate and Curzon, the two cases are tied together and we find out in a surprise twist who’s behind all of the shocking events in the novel. Throughout the story, one of the sub-plots is Matt Jackson’s attempt to “pay his dues” as a rookie while at the same time doing what he is sure is the right thing.

In The Paris Enigma, Pablo De Santis introduces us to Sigmundo Salvatrio, who wants more than anything to be a detective just like world-famous Buenos Aires detective Renato Craig. Salvatrio gets his chance when he’s chosen to attend the Academy for Detectives that Craig founds. Craig is also a co-founder of The Twelve, a group of world-renowned detectives who are scheduled to exhibit at the Paris World’s Fair. At the last minute, ill health prevents Craig from going to Paris and he chooses Salvatrio to take his place. Salvatrio is overjoyed at this “vote of confidence,” but when he gets to Paris, he’s quickly put in his place and reminded that he has to “pay his dues.” The other detectives make it clear that the assistants are to do only what they are told, with no actual detective work, and Salvatrio is expected to keep quiet, call no attention to himself and learn by observing his “betters.” Then, one of The Twelve is murdered. Then, there’s another murder. Now Salvatrio and Viktor Arkazy, co-founder of The Twelve, have to work together to solve the crimes. In the end, Salvatrio uses his own special knowledge to find out who’s responsible.

“Paying your dues” is a part of a lot of professional development, so it’s not surprising that it’s found its way into crime fiction, too. Which novels have you enjoyed that feature dues-paying?

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Ringo Starr’s It Don’t Come Easy.

It’s Just a Fantasy*

>Most of us have fantasies. They’re actually quite harmless most of the time, and some research even suggests that fantasies are part of healthy human development. Sometimes, though, fantasies, especially about people, can be dangerous, especially when the reality doesn’t turn out to be the same as the fantasy is. A look at crime fiction shows pretty clearly what can happen when someone becomes obsessed with a fantasy.

For example, in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventure of the Crooked Man, Holmes asks Watson to take part in closing the case of the murder of Colonel James Barclay. Barclay’s wife Nancy is suspected of the murder; she and her husband had had a violent quarrel just before the murder, and no-one else seems to have a motive. But prior to that quarrel, the Barclays had seemed to be a happy couple with no resentment on either side. So it’s hard to see at first what led to Barclay’s death, and Holmes is convinced that Nancy Barclay is not guilty. Then, a friend and neighbour of Nancy Barclay’s gives Holmes an important clue. On the night of the murder, Nancy had a chance meeting with someone from her past. From that encounter, Nancy Barclay learned something about her husband that destroyed her fantasy of him. That past event led directly to Barclay’s death.

Fantasies play an interesting and important role in Agatha Christie’s The Hollow. In that novel, Dr. John Christow and his wife Gerda are visiting Sir Henry and Lady Lucy Angkatell at their country home for the week-end. Christow’s former love, famous actress Veronica Cray, has found out that Christow often stays with the Angkatells, and has taken a nearby cottage so she can “accidentally on purpose” meet him again. On the Saturday night, she goes to the Angkatells’ home on a trumped-up excuse and whisks Christow away to see her home. Cray’s fantasy of Christow is that he still loves her, although he’s married to someone else, and that they should plan a future together. In fact, the next day, she asks Christow to come over to her cottage so they can talk about their future. Christow shocks her, though, and tells that he once loved her very much, but doesn’t any longer. In fact, he says,

“I’m a man fifteen years older. A man you don’t even know – and whom, I daresay, you wouldn’t like much if you did know.”

When Cray finally accepts that her “fantasy future” isn’t going to happen, she becomes furious and threatens Christow. Those threats come back to haunt her when Christow is shot later that day and she becomes a suspect.

In an interesting sub-plot of this novel, also staying at the Angkatell home that week-end is Edward Angkatell, a family cousin. He’s had fantasies for years of marrying famous sculptor Henrietta Savernake, and finds it hard to see her for who she really is. In the meantime, Midge Hardcastle who’s also a houseguest that week-end, has loved Edward Angkatell for a long time, but he hasn’t noticed it because in his fantasies, she’s remained “Little Midge,” a young teenager. It’s not until he sees both women clearly that he can find any happiness.

Fantasies also play an important role in Ruth Rendell’s 13 Steps Down.That’s the story of Mix Cellini, a phobic young man whose job is repairing exercise equipment. That’s how he meets supermodel Merissa Nash. Mix’s real life is not particularly remarkable; in fact, he’s fairly neurotic. Once he’s met Merissa Nash, though, Cellini begins to have fantasies about her and becomes obsessed with those fantasies. In the meantime, Cellini also begins to have fantasies about his own life and sense of power and becomes obsessed with the life of notorious serial killer Dr. Richard Christie. As Cellini’s fantasies become more and more real to him, his life comes closer and closer to resembling Christie’s – with tragic results.

Shoemaker’s son Sigmundo Salvatrio, whom we meet in Pablo De Santis’ The Paris Enigma, has fantasies about what it would be like to be a famous detective, just like world-renowned Renato Craig. So he’s overjoyed when he is accepted into Craig’s Academy for Detectives. At first, Salvatrio maintains his fantasies about the “thrilling” life of a detective. Then, one of the other students is killed. And then, Renato Craig becomes seriously ill. His illness means that Craig can’t attend the Paris World’s Fair, at which he was to make a presentation along with other members of a world-famous society of detectives known as The Twelve. So he sends Salvatrio in his place. When Salvatrio arrives in Paris, he soon learns quite a lot about the real men behind the “fantasy detectives” he’d always read about. And then one of The Twelve is murdered. And then there’s another death.Salvatrio works with Viktor Arkazy, one of the founders of the group, to find out who the murderer is. In the process, he has to get rid of many of his fantasies about what it’s like to be a detective.

We also see the effect of fantasies in Teresa Solana’s A Shortcut to Paradise. In that novel, noted Catalán novelist Marina Dolç has just received a prestigious award: the Gold Apple Fiction Prize. She returns to her hotel room after the awards ceremony and dinner, only to be brutally murdered. Barcelona brothers Eduard and Josep “Borja” Martínez get involved in the investigation when Borja, who was at the dinner, makes up a story about having been hired to find the killer. The most likely suspect is Amadeu Cabestany, runner-up for the award, and a bitter rival of Dolç’s, for whom he has nothing but contempt. Cabestany’s literary agent is sure that he’s not guilty, and asks the Martínez brothers to find out who the killer really is. Before they know it, the brothers are looking for a murderer, despite not being “official.” In the end, they discover that Marina Dolç was murdered because of the killer’s fantasy life. In fact, at the end of the novel, readers get to see just how powerful that fantasy world is.

In my own B-Very Flat, university student and photographer Tony Ferguson has become smitten with gifted violinist Serena Brinkman. In his fantasies, she’s fallen for him too, and he begins to invent reasons for them to meet. Despite Serena’s honesty that she’s involved with someone else, and not interested in Tony, he persists in believing that they’re meant to be together. Then, on the night of an important musical competition, Serena suddenly dies of anaphylactic shock. At first, her death is thought to be a horrible accident. Soon enough, though, it’s proven that she was murdered and Ferguson finds himself a suspect in her death.

Fantasies are normal and probably even healthy. They can help us deal with stress, push us on to achieve and add colour to our lives. But like anything else they can get out of control. When that happens, the results can be disastrous. You could even say they make good servants, but very bad masters…

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Billy Joel’s Sometimes a Fantasy.