Category Archives: Belinda Bauer

I Want to Protect You*

Most of us have private things in our histories – even secrets – that we don’t necessarily want to share with others. And when those ‘others’ are our children, it may be especially important to us to keep those things to ourselves. There are all sorts of reasons for which parents don’t always tell their children all the details of their histories. Sometimes it’s because those details are embarrassing. Sometimes it’s because knowing the truth could be hurtful. And sometimes, it’s because parents want their children to have a certain image of them, and that image would be damaged if the truth came out.

Whatever the reason, there are plenty of examples in crime fiction of parents who want to keep things from their children. And there are examples of children who are just as determined to find those things out. It makes sense, too. Not only is that realistic, but it’s also a solid source of interest and conflict in a novel.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s novella Dead Man’s Mirror, Hercule Poirot is summoned to the country home of Sir Gervase Chevenix-Gore. It seems that Chevenix-Gore believes that someone is stealing from him, and he wants Poirot to find out the truth. At first, Poirot doesn’t want to look into this matter, as he’s not pleased about Chevenix-Gore’s highhandedness. But he agrees to go. Shortly after his arrival, though, Chevenix-Gore is shot. In the beginning, it looks very much like a suicide. But there are little pieces of evidence that suggest otherwise, so Poirot starts to ask questions. He soon learns that more than one person might have wanted to kill the victim. One of the people involved is Chevenix-Gore’s adopted daughter, Ruth. In the course of the story, we learn something about her past – something that no-one has told her. And it plays a part in the story.

Ross Macdonald’s The Far Side of the Dollar introduces readers to the Hillman family. Ralph and Elaine Hillman have sent their son, Tom, to Laguna Perdida, a residential school for ‘troubled youth.’ When Tom goes missing, the school’s owner/director, Dr. Sponti, hires PI Lew Archer to find the boy. As they’re discussing the case, Ralph Hillman comes to the office, and says that Tom’s been abducted, and he’s had a ransom demand. Archer goes back to the Hillman home to see what he can do to help. Soon enough, though, he learns that this is not a case of a wealthy family being extorted for money. There’s something more (and darker) going on here. And when it comes out that Tom may have gone willingly with the people who have him, it’s even clearer that this is a different sort of case. Archer perseveres, despite the hurdles he faces, and finds out the truth. It turns out that one important factor here is a set of secrets that Tom’s parents have kept from him.

John Burdett’s Sonchai Jitpleecheep is a Bangkok-based member of the Royal Thai Police. His mother, Nong, is a former bar girl who’s now embarked on a new career. Sonchai and his mother are close, and he treats her with respect. She loves him, too, and cares very much about him. But there’s one thing that she won’t tell him: the name of his father. Sonchai is half farang (foreigner), so he knows that his father is not Thai. But he doesn’t know the man’s name or background, and his mother won’t share that information with him, at least at the beginning of the series. It’s one of the few real sources of tension between them.

In Belinda Bauer’s Blacklands, we meet twelve-year-old Steven Lamb. He lives with his younger brother, Davey, his mother, Lettie, and his grandmother, Gloria. They’re not well off (‘though they’re not desperate), and on the surface, you’d think it was a normal, working-class family. But it’s not. Nineteen years earlier, Lettie’s brother (and Steven’s uncle), Billy Peters, disappeared and never returned. Despite a thorough search, Billy was never found – not even a body. Lettie’s and Gloria’s way of coping with the devastation has been silence. They don’t discuss Billy or the events of that time. Steven knows a few things about what happened, and about his uncle, but not much. The adults in his life have tried, in their way, to protect him, but you could almost say that it’s had the opposite effect. Steven is almost obsessed with wanting to know what happened to his Uncle Billy. He’s learned that a man named Arnold Avery most likely abducted and killed Uncle Billy. He’s hoping he can get Avery to tell him where his uncle’s body is. So, he decides to contact Avery, who’s in prison for other child murders. The two begin a suspenseful exchange of letters, which Steven does his best to hide from his family. In the end, that exchange opens up some very old wounds, and opens up some of the silences in the family.

And then there’s Sue Younger’s Days Are Like Grass. In that novel, pediatric surgeon Claire Bowerman returns from London to her native Auckland. With her, she brings her partner, Yossi Shalev, and her fifteen-year-old daughter, Roimata ‘Roi.’ While Yossi and Roi are eager to start over again in Auckland, Claire’s been very reluctant. She doesn’t want her family’s past dug up, and she wants to protect Roi, in particular, from her own past. Soon enough, we see why Claire’s so concerned, In 1970, seventeen-year-old Kathryn Phillips went missing and never returned. Claire’s father, Patrick, was accused of abduction and murder. He was even tried and convicted. But there was never enough evidence to sustain the conviction on appeal. So, he was released. Still, plenty of people think he’s guilty. When a hospital case thrusts Claire into the media spotlight, the old case comes up again, and now Claire wants desperately to hide it all from Roi. In the meantime, Roi wants to know more about her own background. Claire’s told her that her birth father was a Māori man with whom Claire had a brief affair, but nothing more than that. Now, Roi would like to find out more, and get to know her Māori family. And she’s as determined to get her answers as Claire is to protect her from them.

There are plenty of reasons parents might not want to share everything with their children. Sometimes, keeping things quiet is the right choice. Other times, it’s not. Either way, it makes for an interesting layer of character or source of tension in a crime novel.


*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of an Eels song.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Belinda Bauer, John Burdett, Ross Macdonald, Sue Younger

In The Spotlight: Belinda Bauer’s Blacklands

Hello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. Crimes don’t impact just the victim and the perpetrator. They also impact the victim’s family, and that effect can last for a very long time. To see how this works, let’s turn the spotlight today on Belinda Bauer’s debut novel, Blacklands.

As the story begins, we are introduced to twelve-year-old Steven Lamb. He lives with his younger brother, Davey, his mother, Lettie, and his Nan, Gloria, in a small, working-class house in the Exmoor town of Shipcott. But this isn’t a typical working-class family. Nineteen years ago, Steven’s uncle (and Gloria’s son), Billy Peters, went missing and never returned. It’s always been believed that he was abducted and killed by a man named Arnold Avery, who’s now in prison for other child murders. But Billy’s body was never found, and the family has been left bereft and without answers.

Steven feels the family’s pain; it plays out in many different ways. And he wants his family to be whole. So, he decides to dig on the moor and see if he can find Billy’s body. At least then, he thinks, he’ll get some recognition, and be able to put his family together. He doesn’t have any luck, but then he gets another, more daring idea. He decides to write to Arnold Avery in prison, and try to find out from him where Uncle Billy is buried.

Thus begins a correspondence between Steven and Avery. As time goes on, it becomes almost a sort of ‘cat and mouse’ game, with each of them trying to stake out a position of power. Steven doesn’t tell anyone in his family about what’s going on, thinking that he can manage it on his own, and that he doesn’t want to hurt, especially, his grandmother any more than has already happened. As the story moves on, the stakes get higher and higher. And in the end, we see that Steven’s choice to try to find out the truth about his uncle’s death will have a real impact on everyone.

The two main characters in this novel are Steven Lamb and Arnold Avery. So, the story is told from their perspectives (third person, past tense). We see how each one reacts to the exchange of letters, and we learn about what life is like for each.

Steven never met his uncle, but Billy Peters’ death has had a profound effect on his life. His family is fractured; and, although his mother does try to take care of him and Davey, she’s got her own issues. And his Nan is still grieving her son’s loss. That loss has affected Lettie, too. She’s felt ‘second best,’ since all the attention was on her brother. And, perhaps without being aware of it, that plays out in her relationships with her own children, as she prefers Davey over Steven. There’s certainly not a lot of joy in the house, and little affection. And, with both Gloria and Lettie preoccupied with their own grief, the two young boys don’t get a much loving attention.

The family also faces harsh economic realities. There’s not much money, and very few treats. The house is adequate, but not particularly nice; and there’s little left over for new things. Steven doesn’t get a lot of support at home, and has few things that the other boys at school would envy. So it’s not hard to imagine how he’s become the target of bullies. That, too, makes his life miserable. Steven is a brave boy, and his ability to stay tough becomes important. But he is still just a boy who would very much like a loving mum.

For his part, Arnold Avery has become accustomed to prison life. Through his eyes, we see what daily life is like in a contemporary men’s prison. It’s not a pleasant place, and Avery has an especially difficult time of it, because he’s in for raping and killing children. In the world of prison, nothing is lower than that; in fact, he’s assigned guards to escort him to meals and so on so that he won’t be attacked or killed. Still, he’s working on being a model prisoner, because he has plans for after he gets out – plans that he has no intention of sharing with his psychiatrist. Avery has contempt for just about everyone else, seeing them all as his intellectual inferiors. He is not in the least bit sympathetic, but he does have a way of getting people to talk to him and believe him, and it’s possible to see how he could get his victims to relax around him.

The story takes place in Dartmoor and Exmoor, and that moor setting is an important element in this novel. Moors can be beautiful. But they can also be bleak, lonely, and subject to very unstable weather patterns. There are bogs and sometimes very dense fogs that can completely disorient even someone who lives nearby. That context adds to the atmosphere of the novel.

There isn’t a lot of ‘onscreen’ brutal violence in the novel. But readers who do not like stories in which children come to harm will want to know that they have in this novel. Bauer doesn’t give detailed descriptions, but she doesn’t gloss over what’s happened, either.

Blacklands is the story of a family struggling to cope, even years after the tragedy that devastated them. It offers a look at the crime from the perspective of a brave young boy who wishes he were a lot older and more mature than he is, and who just wants to have a real family. And it takes place in some of the UK’s more beautiful, and more dangerous, natural settings. But what’s your view? Have you read Blacklands? If you have, what elements do you see in it?


Coming Up On In The Spotlight

Monday, 20 November/Tuesday, 21 November – Dead Lemons – Finn Bell

Monday, 27 November/Tuesday, 28 November – Days Are Like Grass – Sue Younger

Monday, 4 December/Tuesday, 5 December – The Student Body – Simon Wyatt


Filed under Belinda Bauer, Blacklands

I’d Rather be Anything but Ordinary Please*

Outside the BoxOne of the things that can make a fictional sleuth or protagonist interesting and memorable is an unusual way of thinking. I’m not talking here about simple creativity of thinking although of course that can be an appealing trait. I’m really talking about a mindset that sees the world in a different way. Like anything else in a crime fiction novel, an unusual way of thinking can be overdone and so pull the reader out of the story. When that happens the sleuth is less believable. But when it’s done well, having a sleuth or other protagonist who looks at the world in a very unusual way can add richness to a story and can make for a very memorable character.

For instance, Arthur Upfield’s Queensland police inspector Napoleon ‘Bony’ Bonaparte is half Aborigine/half White. His way of looking at the world and his cases is unusual in part because of his cultural background. On the one hand, Bony is well aware of the European way of looking at life. He is a police detective, so he knows police procedure and he understands that way of thinking. At the same time, he is well versed in ‘the book of the bush.’ He thinks in terms of what the signs of the bush and nature tell him, and often gets very useful information from what he sees in nature when he investigates.  For instance, in The Bone is Pointed, Bony investigates the five-month old disappearance of Jeff Anderson, who was working Karwir Station, a ranch near Green Swamp Well, when he disappeared. One morning, Anderson went out to ride the fences on the ranch; only his horse returned. At first, everyone thought the horse (who was known for being difficult) threw him, but there is no sign of his body. No-one misses Anderson very much as he’s both sadistic and mean-tempered. But Sergeant Blake, who investigated the disappearance, now believes that Anderson either was murdered or deliberately went into hiding. Bony is assigned to investigate the man’s disappearance and begins to look into the case. He uses a very unusual but effective combination of his knowledge of the bush and the people who live there and his knowledge of police procedure and working with European-Australians to find out what really happened to Jeff Anderson.

Peter Høeg’s Smilla Jaspersen also has a very unusual way of thinking about the world. She is half-Inuit/half-White and was brought up on Greenland. So by the standards of most people in Copenhagen where she now lives, she doesn’t look at the world in the usual way. She is also a scientist who has learned to think about the world like a scientist does. And in Smilla’s Sense of Snow (AKA Miss Smilla’s Feeling For Snow), she uses her unusual way of thinking to solve the mystery of the death of Isaiah Christiansen. Isaiah is a young boy, also a Greenlander by birth, who lives in the same building where Jaspersen does. When he dies after a fall from the snow-covered roof of the building, everyone puts it down to a tragic accident. But Jaspersen thinks otherwise. First, Isaiah was extremely at home in the snow and wouldn’t have made the kinds of mistakes that can end up in a tragic fall. What’s more, certain aspects of the snow and the marks in it suggest to Jespersen that the boy’s death was more than just a fall. So she begins to investigate. The answers lead Jaspersen back to Greenland and an excavation there where Isaiah’s father died. Throughout this novel, we see Jaspersen’s unusual way of thinking, at the same time both scientific and informed by her cultural background. She understands snow, ice and glaciers in a very traditional, culturally-contextual and deep way; she has a real feeling for them. At the same time she understands them from a scientific point of view and those two ways of thinking give her a very unusual perspective. They also point her in the right direction in solving this mystery.

We see a very unusual way of thinking in Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Christopher Boone is a fifteen-year-old boy with autism. He’s high-enough functioning to communicate and to do quite a lot for himself. But he doesn’t think like ‘the rest of us’ do. When he discovers that his neighbour’s dog has been killed, he decides to be a detective like Sherlock Holmes in The Hound of the Baskervilles and find out who was responsible. The novel is written from Christopher’s point of view and that gives us a glimpse into how a person with his form and level of autism might see the world. It’s an interesting perspective and although Christopher is not skilled socially, we see that he is highly accurate at remembering details. His unique skills are part of what leads him to the answers he’s looking for – and to a truth about himself that he never knew.

There’s also the unique perspective of Dr. Jennifer White, whom we meet in Alice LaPlante’s Turn of Mind. White is a skilled Chicago orthopaedic surgeon who specialises in hand reconstruction. She has also been diagnosed with dementia. As the novel begins, White is still able to function fairly well although she has had to retire from active work. Her daughter Fiona and son Mark have arranged for her to have a live-in caregiver Magdalena. One night, White’s neighbour Amanda O’Toole is murdered and Detective Luton is assigned to the case. Forensic tests show that O’Toole was mutilated in a way that points to a murderer with highly developed medical skill, so Luton begins to wonder whether White might be guilty. But the evidence isn’t completely convincing, so Luton isn’t sure White is the murderer. White’s advancing dementia means she has progressively fewer lucid times and even if she did think the way ‘the rest of us do,’ Luton knows she wouldn’t be likely to admit to the murder if she is guilty. So Luton has to use all of her abilities to get to the truth about Amanda O’Toole’s murder. It turns out that the O’Toole and White families have a long history together and that this murder has everything to do with their pasts. Since this novel is told from Jennifer White’s perspective, we get to see the case unfold through the eyes of someone who thinks in a very unusual way.

Catherine O’Flynn’s What Was Lost introduces us to ten-year-old Kate Meaney, who has a unique way of looking at the world. As the novel begins, Kate dreams of being a detective, and has already started her own detective agency Falcon Investigations. Her partner is Mickey the Monkey, a stuffed monkey who travels everywhere in Kate’s backpack. Kate’s favourite occupation is looking for suspicious characters and activity and there are few better places to do that than the newly-opened Green Oaks Shopping Center. Kate doesn’t have a lot of friends, and she doesn’t think the way other people do, but that doesn’t bother her. She’s perfectly content to live the way she’s living. But her grandmother Ivy, who is her caregiver, thinks Kate would be better served by going away to school. So she arranges for Kate to sit the entrance exams at the exclusive Redspoon School. Kate is finally persuaded to go when her friend twenty-two-year-old Adrian Palmer agrees to go with her to the school. The two board the bus together but Kate never returns. No trace of her is found, and everyone blames Palmer for her disappearance. In fact, his life is made so difficult that he leaves town. Twenty years later his sister Lisa is the assistant manager at Your Music, a store in Green Oaks. Her job is to put it mildly uninspiring and she’s in a dead-end relationship. But life changes for her when she meets Kurt, a security guard at the mall. Kurt’s been seeing strange things on his security cameras: a vision of a young girl with backpack that has a monkey sticking out of it. Lisa is reminded of Kate, whom she met a few times, and each in a different way, Lisa and Kurt explore the past as we learn what really happened to Kate. Throughout this novel we see that Kate thinks in a way that’s unlike just about anyone else. That aspect of her personality makes her perhaps the most alive person in the novel, even twenty years after she’s disappeared.

More recently, Belinda Bauer’s Rubbernecker introduces us to Patrick Fort, a young man with Asperger’s Syndrome. Fort’s father was struck by a car and killed when Fort was young and it’s partly for that reason that Fort is fascinated by what makes people die. He enrols at university in Cardiff to study anatomy mostly because of his fascination with the causes of death. Part of this novel is told from Fort’s perspective as he and his peers study a cadaver. Patrick notices some things about the cadaver that don’t tally with the official reports and that makes him curious about this death. Bit by bit we learn through Patrick’s very unusual way of looking at the world what happened to the dead man. Another thread of this story which is later tied in with Patrick’s experience is told from the perspective of Sam Galen, who’s in a coma in a neurological unit but hasn’t lost his ability to think. As he slowly re-unites with the world, we learn what happened to him and what life is like in that unit.  We get another perspective on the same unit from Tracy Evans, who is a nurse there. I confess I haven’t yet read this novel, but it was such a good example of a protagonist (in this case Patrick Fort) with a unique way of looking at the world that I couldn’t resist mentioning it.

Sarah Ward at Crimepieces has done a terrific review of Rubbernecker. Her review is what got me thinking about protagonists who don’t think like ‘the rest of the world’ so thanks, Sarah, for the inspiration. Folks, Sarah’s excellent blog is well worth a spot on your blog roll if you’re not already following it.

Characters with unique ways of thinking have to be drawn deftly or the story risks contrivance and melodrama, to say nothing of the risks to believability. But when such a character is done well, having an unusual way of looking at the world can add depth to a novel and set it apart from others.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Avril Lavigne’s Anything but Ordinary.


Filed under Alice LaPlante, Arthur Upfield, Belinda Bauer, Catherine O'Flynn, Mark Haddon, Peter Høeg

You Have Experienced Things I Never Have*

One of the most enriching bonds there is in family life is the bond between grandparents and their grandchildren. For grandparents, grandchildren are a breath of life and a way to connect with the future. For grandchildren, grandparents are a critical connection with the past and an important source of stability. There’s also of course the emotional bond between those two generations. Then too grandparents can provide a safe “landing spot” for grandchildren if it’s necessary. But even when it’s not, grandparents and their grandchildren connect in ways that are unlike any other bonds. That’s certainly the case in real life, and we see it a lot in crime fiction, too.

There’s a really interesting grandparent/grandchild bond in Agatha Christie’s Dead Man’s Folly, in which Hercule Poirot investigates the murder of fourteen-year-old Marlene Tucker. She is chosen to play the part of the victim in a Murder Hunt designed by detective novelist Ariadne Oliver. The Murder Hunt is one of the events at a fête to be held at Nasse House, the home of Sir George and Lady Hattie Stubbs. Oliver thinks that more is going on than the preparations for a fête, so she asks Poirot to attend as well, and he agrees. On the day of the fête, Marlene Tucker is strangled. As Poirot and Inspector Bland look into the case, they get to know Marlene’s family including her grandfather old Merdell. They find that Marlene was the only one who really paid attention to what Merdell said.  That relationship and one of Merdell’s stories prove to be crucial to solving Marlene’s murder and that of another person.

In Belinda Bauer’s Blacklands, there’s a very special bond between Gloria Peters and her grandson Steven. Eighteen years before the events in the novel, Gloria’s son (and Steven’s uncle) Billy Peters disappeared. He never returned and his body was never discovered. It’s always been believed that he was killed by Arnold Avery, a convicted murderer who’s currently in prison. But this has never been proven and the family has never really gotten closure. Steven wants to give his family closure and his grandmother some peace so he decides to find contact Arnold Avery to find out if he killed Billy Peters. He writes to Avery, who responds to his letter, and the two begin a very dangerous game of cat and mouse. Steven tries to disguise not only his identity but also his real reason for contacting Avery. Avery has his own agenda in maintaining contact with Steven. The more these two try to manipulate each other, the more risky the situation becomes. Throughout this novel we see how Gloria and Steven depend on each other and need each other; their bond is an important part of the novel.

Ǻsa Larsson’s Rebecka Martinsson feels a special bond with her grandmother even though she’s no longer living. Martinsson spent a lot of time with her grandparents during her growing-up years and they formed a very strong relationship. To Martinsson they represented stability and comfort and she still thinks of them often. In fact, as the series begins, Martinsson travels from Stockholm, where she works as a tax attorney, to Kiruna, where she grew up, to help a friend who’s been accused of murder. While she’s there, she stays in her grandparents’ home and we sense how close they were. Throughout the series, Martinsson’s memories of her grandparents are a source of strength to her.

And then there’s Donna Leon’s Donatella Falier, who has a close relationship with her grandchildren Chiara and Raffi Brunetti. For example, in About Face, Leon’s sleuth Commissario Guido Brunetti is investigating the connections among the death of a trucking company owner, illegal toxic waste and shady business deals. The key to it all seems to be Franca Marinello, an enigmatic woman Brunetti meets at a dinner party given by his parents-in-law. Here is one of Brunetti’s thoughts as he is sitting at the dinner table:


“The sight of the table, laden with china and silver, exploding with flowers, reminded him [Brunetti] of the last meal he had had in this house, only two weeks before. He had stopped by to bring two books to the Contessa, with whom, in the last years, he had begun to exchange them, and he had found his son there with her. Raffi had explained that he had come to pick up the essay he had prepared for his Italian class and which his grandmother had offered to read…
Raffi, who sometimes bridled when Brunetti disagreed with his view of history or Paola corrected his grammar, seemed entirely persuaded that his grandmother knew whereof she wrote and was busy entering her suggestions into his laptop; Brunetti listened attentively as she explained them.”


That’s a very clear portrait of the way grandchildren can connect with their grandparents in a way that they sometimes don’t with their parents.

There’s also a very special relationship between Karin Fossum’s Oslo detective Konrad Sejer and his grandson Matteus. Sejer’s daughter Ingrid and her husband adopted Matteus from Somalia, so Matteus has had his difficult moments fitting into Norwegian society. But as Matteus grows up, we see that the bond he has with Sejer is an important part of both lives. In When the Devil Holds the Candle, for instance, Sejer and his partner Jacob Skarre investigate several disparate incidences including a purse-snatching, a break-in and the disappearance of a teenager named Andreas. As it turns out, Matteus has some important information about the case and although he’s dealing with his own issues, he provides his grandfather with one of the keys to putting the case together.

Ruth Rendell’s Inspector Reg Wexford also has a close relationship with his grandchildren. For instance, he takes his grandsons Robin and Ben on outings, he tries to keep up with their interests and he and his wife Dora look after them as they’re growing up when their parents are away. He also loves his grand-daughters Mary, Amy and Anoushka and so does Dora. In fact, in the The Vault, that’s one of the chief joys for Wexford of having retired and moved to a converted coach house home belonging to his daughter Sheila. He misses life as a cop, but he does enjoy being a grandfather and Dora enjoys being a grandmother.

There are lots of other examples in crime fiction of grandparents and grandchildren and the bonds that they have. I’ll bet you can think of more than I can. It’s a unique bond that can enrich everyone.



On Another Note…


If you’re celebrating Easter, I wish you and your family a very happy holiday filled with a sense of renewal and connection with one another. If you are celebrating Passover, I wish you and your family a very special holiday. May you feel the connection between the past, the present and the future.




*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Kate Nash’s My Best Friend is You.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Åsa Larsson, Belinda Bauer, Donna Leon, Karin Fossum, Ruth Rendell

I Feel Like I’m Frozen in Time*

Terrible tragedies affect people deeply and in different ways. Some people are able to heal and move on. Others have a lot more difficulty moving past what’s happened. That seems to be especially the case if there’s no opportunity for closure; for instance, if a murderer was never caught, or if someone who disappeared was never found. That kind of devastating event can leave a person almost “frozen,” you might say. Crime fiction that portrays this reality can be especially compelling; in seeing how individuals are affected by murder and other horrible events, we also see just how terrible those events are. And that can be at least as gripping as a lot of depiction of violence is.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs (AKA Murder in Retrospect), Hercule Poirot is hired by Carla Lemarchant to investigate a “cold case:” the sixteen-year-old murder of her father, famous painter Amyas Crale. At the time of the murder, her mother Caroline was assumed to be guilty. There was plenty of motive (Crale had said he was going to leave her for his mistress), and there was opportunity, too. Caroline Crale was even found to be in possession of the poison that killed her husband. But Carla Lemarchant doesn’t believe her mother was guilty and she wants to know the truth so that she can get on with her life. Poirot agrees to take the case and approaches the five people who were “on the scene” the day Amyas Crale was killed. From each of them he gets a written account of the murder. He also interviews each of them. As he gets to know these people better, we see how some of them have been, as you might say, “frozen in time” by the murder. They function; that is, they get up, they go through their days, and so on. But they have not really got beyond what happened. In the end, Poirot finds out who really murdered Amyas Crale and why, and we can see how that knowledge (at the risk of being cliché) sets Carla Lemarchant free to live her own live.

In Colin Dexter’s The Jewel That Was Ours, Inspector Morse and Sergeant Lewis are assigned to investigate the theft of the Wolvercote Tongue, part of a valuable Anglo-Saxon belt buckle owned by Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum. Laura Stratton, whose family owned the Wolvercote Tongue, is on a tour of historic English cities with her husband Eddie. The plan was for her to publicly donate the piece to the Ashmolean during the tour group’s stop in Oxford. But on the afternoon of the tour group’s arrival in Oxford, Laura Stratton suddenly dies. Then the jewel is stolen. At first it looks as though a thief simply took an opportunity to get something valuable. But the next day, Theodore Kemp, curator of the Ashmolean, is murdered. Morse and Lewis are quite sure that the two events are related, and so they are. But this is Colin Dexter, after all, so the events are not related in the way one might think. As Morse gets to know the tourists better, we find out that there is a terrible tragedy in the past of one of those families, and that family has never really gotten closure – never really healed from what happened. That tragedy is closely related to the events that Morse and Lewis are investigating.

There’s also a theme of being “frozen in time” in Belinda Bauer’s Blacklands. Eighteen years before the events in this novel, Billy Peters disappeared and was presumed killed. There was never any real closure here, because Peters’ body was never found, nor was anyone arrested for the crime. So although the family has learned to function, in several ways they’re “frozen.” It’s always been believed that Billy Peters was killed by Arnold Avery, who’s currently in prison for other crimes, but that could never be proven. So now, Billy Peters’ twelve-year-old nephew Steven decides to find out what really happened to his uncle. He finds out how to contact Avery in prison, and writes Avery a letter; he’s hoping that he’ll be able to get Avery to admit to killing Peters and tell where the body is. Avery has his own agenda, so he responds to Steven’s letter. The two begin a very dangerous game of “cat and mouse” as Steven tries to get answers and Avery pursues his own goals. Throughout this novel, we can see how the disappearance of Billy Peters changed everything for his family, and how no-one has really been able to heal.

And then there’s Arnaldur Indriðason’s Jar City. That’s the story of the murder of Holberg, a seemingly inoffensive elderly man who’s found bludgeoned in his flat one day. Inspector Erlendur and his team are assigned to the case, and they begin their investigation. At first, there seems no reason for the murder; Holberg didn’t seem to have any enemies at his job or in his community. He had no real family, either, and no fortune to leave. But as Erlendur digs a little deeper into Holberg’s past, he discovers another dimension to the victim. It turns out that Holberg had been accused of rape, although he was never arrested or imprisoned for the crime. And the more digging the team does, the more apparent it is that there may have been more than one victim. As the team talks to the various people in Holberg’s past, we see how they’ve been, all in their own ways, “frozen in time” by what happened to them. We see this in particular when Erlendur talks to the sister of one of Holberg’s accusers; she’s never really healed from what happened to her sister, especially since her sister later committed suicide. It’s a compelling undercurrent to this novel, and in the end, Erlendur and his team have to get the people in Holberg’s past to move past their pain and admit what really happened, so the team can get to the truth about his murder.

Åsa Larsson’s Sun Storm (AKA The Savage Altar) introduces us to Rebecka Martinsson, a Stockholm tax attorney. She’s originally from the Norrland town of Kiruna, but because of a personal trauma, she left Kiruna and has no desire to return. Although you couldn’t really call her healthy and happy, she does function. She does her job well and has made a life for herself in Stockholm. Then she gets a call from an old friend Sanna Strångard. Sanna’s brother Viktor has been found brutally murdered in the Church of the Source of All Our Strength. Sanna was the person who found the body, and it’s not long before the police begin to suspect that she may be the murderer. Sanna claims that she’s innocent and wants Martinsson to come back to Kiruna and help her. Martinsson doesn’t want to go; she’s managed to hold her life together by putting aside what happened to her there. But she is eventually persuaded, and returns to her home. Once there, she finds that Sanna Strångard was not the only one who had a motive for murder. In order to clear her former friend’s name, she works with Inspectors Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik Stålnacke to find out who really committed the murder and why. In the process, she has to confront the tragedy in her own past.

Paddy Richardson’s Hunting Blind also addresses the theme of being what you could call “frozen in time.” One beautiful summer’s day, four-year-old Gemma Anderson goes missing during a school picnic. An exhaustive search is made and the police do everything they can to find out what happened to the girl. But no trace of her is ever found. The family is torn apart by what happened but, each in a different way, the members of the family do their best to get on with life. Fourteen years later, Gemma’s older sister Stephanie is finishing her training as a psychiatrist. She’s continued with her life, and on the surface, she’s doing well. But she has never really healed, and never really moved on. Still, she’s functioning. Then one day, she’s assigned a new patient Elizabeth Clark who’s attempted suicide and is uncommunicative. For a while Stephanie can’t seem to break through to her patient but gradually she learns Elizabeth’s haunting story. Her younger sister Gracie disappeared one night and was never found. The circumstances of her patient’s story are eerily similar to those of Gemma’s disappearance, and Stephanie begins to wonder whether the same person abducted both girls. As she begins to ask questions, Stephanie confronts her own past and faces the fact that she has been “frozen in time.”

Sometimes, a tragedy is so devastating that those left to cope with it find it hard to move on. It can happen after any tragedy but especially when there’s never been the chance for closure. That sense of being “frozen in time” can be compelling when an author portrays it realistically without being melodramatic (not an easy task!). Which novels have you enjoyed that have that theme?




*NOTE:  The title of this post is a line from Three Days’ Grace’s World So Cold.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Arnaldur Indriðason, Åsa Larsson, Belinda Bauer, Colin Dexter, Paddy Richardson