Category Archives: Kate Atkinson

I Dented Somebody’s Fender*

If you haven’t had this happen to you (and I hope you haven’t!), you may have seen it. Someone’s pulling out or in, or stopping at a traffic light, or switching lanes, and there’s a car accident. I don’t necessarily mean the sort of terrible accident that causes serious injury; those, are, of course, awful. But even what the police call minor accidents can be nerve-wracking, frustrating and expensive.

In real life, they mean calls to insurance companies, perhaps arguments with the other driver, and the cost and time of repair. In crime fiction, they have all sorts of possibilities, even when neither driver is hurt. After all, disparate strangers meet under difficult circumstances. And, in the hands of a skilled author, you never know where such an accident may lead.

For instance, in Dorothy L. Sayers’ The Nine Tailors, Lord Peter Wimsey and his valet/assistant, Mervyn Bunter, are on their way to the town of Walbeach one New Year’s Eve when they have a car accident near the East Anglia town of Fenchurch St. Paul. Neither man is hurt, and they decide the best choice is to walk towards the village and try to get some help. On the way, they meet Rector Theodore Venables, the local vicar. He rescues Wimsey and Bunter, and invites them to stay at the rectory until the car is repaired. The two men gratefully accept the invitation, and Wimsey is able to repay his host when he substitutes for a sick parishioner at the church’s annual change-ringing. He and Venables develop a friendship, which turns out to be very useful a few months later. During a funeral, an unidentified corpse is discovered at the gravesite. Vanables writes to Wimsey, asking for his help in the matter, and Wimsey and Bunter return to Fenchurch St. Paul, this time with no mishap. Wimsey looks into the matter, and finds that the extra body is related to a robbery and some missing emeralds.

In Alex Gaby’s short story Crooked Road, Henry Adams and his wife are driving along a country road near the small town of Robertsville. They’re forced off the road by a police car being driven by Officers Charles Bleecker and Carney Tait. In the process, they land by the side of the road, with one of their tires in shreds. It’s soon clear that this is a ‘speed trap,’ and that they’re going to be bilked for whatever they have. To make things worse, the owner of the local towing company is in on the racket, and they’re more or less forced into having their car towed into town. But things don’t turn out quite the way it seems they will…

One of the pivotal plot points in Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn is a car crash between a blue Honda and a silver Peugeot. It happens one afternoon when Paul Bradley, who’s driving the Peugeot, suddenly stops to avoid hitting a pedestrian. The Honda hits the Peugeot from behind, and both drivers get out of their cars. An argument begins, and gets so heated that the Honda driver brandishes a bat and starts to attack Bradley. As it happens, mystery novelist Martin Canning is among several witnesses to the accident and argument. By instinct, he throws his computer case at the Honda driver, saving Bradley’s life. Out of a sense of obligation, Canning then accompanies Bradley to the nearest hospital to make sure he’ll be all right. That decision draws Canning into a dangerous web that involves multiple murders.

In Katherine Howell’s Web of Deceit, we are introduced to Sydney paramedics Jane Koutofides and Alex Churchill. One morning, they go to the scene of a one-car crash. The drive, Marko Meixner, seems unhurt, but refuses to allow the paramedics to take him to a local hospital. He finally goes with them, but keeps insisting that he’s in danger, and so will they be if they spend any time with him. Koutofides thinks that Meixner needs a psychiatric evaluation, and that the crash may have been a suicide attempt. So, when they get to the hospital, she requests a workup for Meixner. He leaves before that can be done, though, and there’s nothing much that the staff can do. Later that day, Koutofides and Churchill are called to another scene, this time the death of a man who fell under a commuter train. When they discover that the victim is Meixner, it seems at first that he finally succeeded at killing himself. But New South Wales Police Inspector Ella Marconi wonders whether Meixner was right about being in danger.  If he was, then this could be a murder. So, she and her police partner, Murray Shakespeare, work to find out the truth behind Meixner’s life and death.

David Housewright’s Unidentified Woman No. 15 begins with a car accident – well, a series of them. One day, former St. Paul police detective Rushmore McKenzie and his partner, Nina Truhler, are on the snow-covered road between Minneapolis and St. Paul, when a pickup truck cuts in front of them. As they watch, a man gets into the bed of the truck, opens the gate, and dumps the body of a young woman out the back. McKenzie brakes suddenly to avoid hitting the woman, and unwittingly starts a chain reaction of accidents. By the time the road is clear again, the truck is gone. The woman, though, is alive, and is rushed to the nearest hospital, where she slowly starts to heal from her injuries. She doesn’t remember her name, though, or the accident, or much of anything. Still, it’s clear that she’s in danger, and St. Paul Police Commissioner Bobby Dunstan asks McKenzie to look after her until she’s well. He agrees, and the woman settles in. But before long, they’re all involved in a case of theft and multiple murders.

See what I mean? Even a fender-bender can lead in any sort of direction in a crime novel. I’m sure you can think of more examples than I can. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, neither vehicle that you see in the ‘photo belongs to me.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Madness’ Driving in My Car.

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Filed under Alex Gaby, David Housewright, Dorothy L. Sayers, Kate Atkinson, Katherine Howell

You’d Think I’d Know by Now*

Crime writers get to know the worst side of human nature. After all, they’re the ones who create stories in which people do pretty awful things to each other. Crime writers do research, too, when they’re working on a novel. So, they know about all sorts of dangers and risks.

With all of that background and preparation, you’d think they’d know better. And yet, fictional crime writers are always getting into trouble. Perhaps it’s the same curiosity and interest in crime that got them started writing in the first place.  Whatever it is, all it takes is a quick look at some fictional crime writers to see that forewarned isn’t always forearmed. Some crime writers just can’t stay out of trouble…

For example, Agatha Christie’s Ariadne Oliver is a sensible person. Yet, she certainly gets herself into danger. In Third Girl, for instance, a young woman named Norma Restarick pays a visit to Hercule Poirot, and tells him she may have committed a murder. She leaves, though, without telling him her name, so he can’t really help her. It happens that Mrs. Oliver knows Norma, though, and decides to help Poirot find her. That turns out to be difficult, though. Still, one day, Mrs. Oliver gets her chance. She knows that Norma has been seeing a young man named David Baker. When she spots Baker one afternoon, she decides to follow him. And that gets Mrs. Oliver into quite a lot of danger. In the end, though, we learn what happened to Norma Restarick, and we learn the truth about the murder.

Dorothy L. Sayers’ Harriet Vane is, as fans can tell you, a detective novelist. She isn’t a particularly rash or reckless person, but she is independent and intelligent. And somehow, trouble has a way of cropping up around her. For instance, in Gaudy Night, she gets an invitation to attend her alma mater’s annual Gaudy Dinner and festivities. She’s not inclined to go, but an old friend persuades her to attend. She is warmly welcomed back, and ends up enjoying herself. But then, some scary things begin to happen at the school. There’s vandalism, nasty anonymous notes, and more. The administrators don’t want to bring the police in, so they ask Harriet to see what she can find out. Under the guise of doing research for a new novel, she returns to the school and starts looking into the matter. And before she finds out the truth, she’s nearly killed.

Any fan of Ellery Queen can tell you that he is, among other things, a detective novelist. And in several of the Ellery Queen stories (I’m thinking, for instance, of Calamity Town and of Origin of Evil), he’s looking for some peace and quiet so that he can write. But it usually doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes, he’s drawn into cases because he happens to be on hand (that’s what happens in Calamity Town). And sometimes, he’s drawn in because someone insists on it (that’s the case with Origin of Evil). Admittedly, he doesn’t usually get into life-threatening danger. But that doesn’t mean he never faces trouble (right, fans of Four of Hearts?). You would think that, with a police inspector for a father, and his own experience, Queen would know better, but that’s often not enough to keep him out of trouble.

In Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn, we are introduced to crime writer Martin Canning. Canning generally tries to avoid trouble as much as he can. In fact, he very much wishes life could be as pleasant as the fictional world he’s created. But it’s not. When his agent persuades him to appear at the Edinburgh Arts Festival, Canning goes, but not eagerly. While he’s in Edinburgh, he plans to attend a lunchtime comedy radio broadcast, mostly because he’s got a free ticket. He’s at the studio to pick up his ticket when he witnesses a blue Honda collide with the Silver Peugeot in front of it. The two drivers get out and begin arguing. Then the Honda driver pulls out a baseball bat and attacks the Peugeot driver, whose name is Paul Bradley. Without really thinking about it, Canning throws his computer case at the Honda driver, knocking him over and saving Bradley’s life. That one gesture gets him involved in fraud, murder and more. And that’s sort of thing he’s always tried very hard to avoid.

And then there’s Lynda Wilcox’s Verity Long. She is research assistant to best-selling crime novelist Kathleen ‘KD’ Davenport. Her job is supposed to be looking into true crime cases, and selecting those that might work as plot inspirations for her boss. You would think that wouldn’t be a particularly dangerous job, but it is. In Strictly Murder, for instance, Long is looking for a new place to live. A house agent shows her a nice home, but it happens to have a body in it. She gets advice from more than one person to stay out of the matter, but she feels that she’s already involved, since she found the body. And in Organized Murder, Davenport gives her a simple request: travel to Bellhurst and meet with MBE Ernest ‘Ernie’ Rutland. Rutland wants Davenport to open the Bellhurst Christmas Market, and the details have to be worked out. When Long gets to St. Isadore’s Church Hall, where she’s to meet Rutland, she finds that a murderer has been there before her. Rutland’s body is hanging from one of the pipes on the roof of the building. Once again, she’s drawn into a search for a killer.

See what I mean? Crime writers really do know all the dangers out there, but that doesn’t stop them getting into trouble. Knowing all of the risks doesn’t mean you avoid them…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Ozma’s You’d Think I’d Know.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, Ellery Queen, Kate Atkinson, Lynda Wilcox

Because There’s Consequences For What We Do*

The ‘photo is of some of the cloth totes I use to do my grocery shopping. Last year, the voters of California, where I live, elected to ban single-use plastic bags, such as the ones that are often provided by grocery stores. On the one hand, using cloth totes, or using a personal trolley, certainly cuts down on the number of plastic bags that end up in landfills. This is, overall, good for the environment. And it’s no more difficult to fill a cloth tote or trolley than it is to put one’s groceries in single-use plastic bags. There are other benefits, too, to choosing cloth over plastic. What’s more, companies spend less when consumers provide their own bags. It’s a way, if you think about it, for them to save money without cutting down on the quality of what they sell.

But there have been some unintended consequences of this law. To take just one example, I recently attended a conference. Another delegate needed to do a bit of shopping; and, since I had my car at this conference, I offered to do the transportation. But a problem arose. Where was this delegate supposed to put the purchase? It couldn’t be left in my car. And taking everything through the conference venue wasn’t practicable. We managed by using my conference tote, which I’d brought with me by chance. But it would have been so much easier with plastic bags.

There’ve been other consequences, too. People who used those bags for lining trash cans, picking up after pets, wrapping things for the freezer, or other kinds of storage can’t do that now. Does this mean the law is wrong? No, not necessarily. It does mean there are a lot of unplanned consequences.

We certainly see that happen in a great deal of crime fiction. Something may be done for a laudable reason, but have all sorts of unintended consequences. For instance, in Giorgio Scerbanenco’s A Private Venus, Dr. Duca Lamberti is hired by wealthy engineer Pietro Auseri. He wants Lamberti to help his son, Davide, who’s developed severe depression and a serious drinking problem in the last year. Nothing seems to have been helpful, and Lamberti isn’t sure that he can do much good. But he agrees to try. And before long, he learns Davide’s story. It seems that, a year earlier, Davide had met a young woman, Alberta Radelli He gave her a lift, and they had spent a pleasant day together. Then, when the day ended, she begged him to let her stay with him. When he refused, she threatened to commit suicide. Not long afterwards, her body was found in a field, and it looked as though she made good on her threat. Now, Davide feels responsible for her death. Lamberti knows that the only way to help Davide is to find out what really happened to Alberta, so he decides to do just that. In this story, the unintended consequence of giving a young woman a lift turned out to be much more serious than it seemed at the time.

Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn is all about unintended consequences. Crime writer Martin Canning is waiting for a ticket to an afternoon radio comedy show in Edinburgh. As he waits, he sees a blue Honda hit the back of a silver Peugeot. The two drivers get out of their cars and begin to argue. Then, the Honda driver brandishes a bat and begins to attack the Peugeot driver, a man named Paul Bradley. Almost by instinct, Canning throws his computer case at the Honda driver, saving Bradley’s life. On the one hand, that has very positive consequences. On the other, though, it draws Canning into a web of deception and murder that he hadn’t imagined.

Linwood Barclay’s Bad Move begins as science fiction writer Zack Walker moves his family from the city to a new suburban development, Valley Forest Estates. The new home is bigger and has more amenities than the city home that Walker and his family currently have. What’s more, it’s in a safer area, and the family will have more property. So, on the one hand, it’s a wise move. But it has unintended consequences. For one thing, Walker gets drawn into a couple of murders that take place in the new development, and the danger reaches to his family.  For another, his two children are miserable, and don’t fit in at all in their new school. It’s a clear case of something that seems positive on the surface, but causes all sorts of unexpected trouble.

In Maureen Carter’s Working Girls, Birmingham DS Beverly ‘Bev’ Morriss and her team investigate the murder of a fifteen-year-old sex worker named Michelle Lucas. Morriss wants to find out as much as she can about the victim, and for that, she turns to Michelle’s friends. Michelle’s best friend was Vicki Flinn, also in the business. She starts off by being willing to help, but then goes missing. Then, another friend, Cassandra Swain, is badly beaten. Morriss does find out who killed Michelle and why. But as it turns out, taking what seems like the right step – connecting with the victim’s circle – has some very unpleasant unintended consequences.

And then there’s Eleanor Kuhns’ Cradle to Grave. It’s 1797 Maine, and itinerant weaver Will Rees has recently married Lydia Farrell, a former member of the Shaker community. One day, Lydia gets a letter from an old friend, Hannah ‘Mouse’ Moore, who’s still living with the Shaker community in upstate New York. Mouse is concerned about a group of children who live with their mother, Maggie Whitney. It seems that the children may be neglected, even abused. So, for their own safety, Mouse has taken them to the Shaker community. On the one hand, that means they’re safe. On the other, it gets Mouse into serious trouble for kidnapping, and casts a bad light on the Shakers. The Reeses go to New York to see what they can do to help, and with their intercession, the children are returned to their mother. Mouse will be disciplined, but allowed to remain in the community. And, at least she won’t be prosecuted and imprisoned. Then, Maggie Whitney is murdered. Mouse is, as you can imagine, the most likely suspect, but she claims to be innocent. The Reeses return to New York to try to clear their friend’s name if they can. In this case, all of Mouse’s attempts to help the children have had all sorts of negative consequences.

And that’s the thing about even very positive things. Everything has consequences, and sometimes, those consequences are both unexpected and negative. These are just a few examples. Your turn.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Robert Cray’s Consequences.

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Filed under Eleanor Kuhns, Giorgio Scerbanenco, Kate Atkinson, Linwood Barclay, Maureen Carter

I Can’t Mind My Own Business*

minding-own-businessHave you ever heard or told a story that starts like this: I was minding my own business when…? Strange things do happen sometimes, just when we’re going about our daily lives, so those stories aren’t as fantastic as they may seem. But can it work in crime fiction?

Most readers want their crime fiction to be believable. And the ‘I was minding my own business when…’ plot point can stretch creditability too far. There are stories, though, where it’s done in an interesting way.

For example, Agatha Christie’s Passenger to Frankfurt is the story of Stafford Nye, a low-level British diplomat. He’s at the airport one day, when he’s approached by a young woman. She tells him that her life is in danger, and that she has to flee the country. Nye refuses at first. But she continues to beg for his help, and finally persuades him to lend her his passport and diplomatic credentials (I know – in today’s world, that would never get her on a plane). Before he knows it, Nye is drawn into a dangerous web of international intrigue and murder. Behind it all is a shadowy group bent on world domination. In this case, the story is the sort of thriller where the reader would need to put aside a lot of disbelief to begin with. So, the way in which Nye is involved in the plot isn’t out of place.

In One Good Turn, Kate Atkinson takes a very interesting approach to this way of drawing a character into a plot. One afternoon, crime writer Martin Canning is waiting at a radio station to pick up a ticket to a lunchtime radio comedy broadcast. His housemate, Richard Mott, is to be the featured comic, and he’s invited Canning to see the show. Canning’s minding his own business when he witnesses an incident of ‘road rage.’ Paul Bradley, who’s driving a silver Peugeot, brakes suddenly to avoid hitting a pedestrian. The driver behind Bradley, who’s in a blue Honda, hits Bradley’s car, and the two get into an argument. Then, the Honda driver brandishes a baseball bat and attacks Bradley. By instinct, Canning throws the computer case he’s been carrying at the Honda driver. That stops the fight, but it also draws Canning into a strange case of murders, fraud and theft.

Aaron Elkins’ Fellowship of Fear is the first of his novels to feature cultural anthropologist Gideon Oliver. In this story, Oliver has accepted an invitation to give a series of lectures at the United States Overseas College (USOC), which has branches in several European locations. It seems like the perfect opportunity for a change of scenery, and a way for Oliver to continue to cope with the loss of his beloved wife, Nora, who died two years earlier. Things don’t work out that way, though. First, Oliver is attacked in his hotel room by two men who apparently believe he has something of value that they want. He reports the incident to the police, but his troubles are just beginning. Tom Marks and Hilaire Delvaux, two leaders in the NATO Security Directorate (NSD)’s counterespionage bureau, approach Oliver. They claim that spies working for the USSR (the novel was published in 1982) are trying to steal something, although they don’t know what that something is. They want Oliver to inform them if anyone makes any unusual requests of him that might be seen as suspicious. Now Oliver is unwittingly drawn into a dangerous case of international espionage and murder.

In Pascal Garnier’s How’s the Pain?, we meet twenty-one-year-old Bernard Ferrand. He’s somewhat bored and restless, but not sure what he wants to do with his life. Then, ageing contract killer Simon Marechall approaches him with a proposition. Ferrand has a driving license, and Marechall needs a driver. He wants to make one last trip to the French coast to take care of some business. Ferrand agrees to the plan – after all, what else is there for him to do?  But he doesn’t know what sort of business Marechall is in at first. And by the time he does find out, he’s already in very, very deep, as the saying goes.

And then there’s Apostolos Doxiadis’ Three Little Pigs. That novel begins in 1974 at a monastery in the Swiss Alps. An unnamed art restorer is visiting the area, looking at some old frescoes in the chapel, with an eye towards restoring them. One day, an old man living in the elder care home attached to the monastery offers to tell the art restorer a story – a ‘good story.’ All he asks is that his tale be recorded on tape. This the art restorer agrees to do. He buys some blank tapes and the old man begins his tale That story concerns the Franco family, who emigrated from Italy at the turn of the 20th Century. At first, all went well, as family patriarch Benvenuto ‘Ben’ Franco succeeded in the shoe business. Then one night, he got into a bar fight and ended up killing the other man. That man turned out to be Luigi Lupo, son of notorious gangster Tonio Lupo. When Lupo found out, he cursed the Franco family, promising that each of Franco’s three sons would die at the age of forty-two, the same age as Luigi was when he was killed. The old man then proceeds to tell his listener what happened to those three sons, and how that curse impacted them. As it turns out, Lupo had made plans to be sure his curse would be carried out. And we see the impact of it even decades later. And all because the old man approached the art restorer with an offer to tell a good story.

And that’s the thing about crime fiction. At least in that genre, even minding your own business can get you into trouble. Which examples have stayed with you?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by the Kaiser Chiefs.   

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Filed under Aaron Elkins, Agatha Christie, Apostolos Doxiadis, Kate Atkinson, Pascal Garnier

I Am He as You Are He and You Are Me*

Point of ViewOne of the important choices writers have to make is which way they’ll tell a story. Most authors choose first or third person (more about second person in a bit). There are good reasons to choose each one, and a lot depends on what the author wants to accomplish.

Many of Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories are written in the first person, from the point of view of Dr. Watson. One of the big advantages of first person here is that it allows for a really interesting perspective on another character, Sherlock Holmes. As fans will know, Holmes is unusual, even unique. And his skill at deduction is legendary. To see all of that from someone else’s point of view allows for the same kind of wonder (‘How’d he do that?’) that we might feel when watching a magician. And then, of course, Watson’s perspective allows Holmes to explain himself. There are examples of that moment woven through the Holmes stories and novels. One that I like very much comes in The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle. In that story, Commissionaire Peterson brings an unusual case to Holmes. He broke up a fight in which some thugs were attacking a man. Everyone ran off, and in his haste, the man dropped his hat and a goose he was carrying. Peterson brought the goose home to his wife, and when she started to prepare it for cooking, she found a valuable gem in its craw. Peterson wants to know the story behind the gem, and for that, he’ll need the man’s identity. Holmes takes one good look at the hat and is able to be so precise about its owner that they soon find out who that person is.

Of course, sleuths are not perfect. Just ask Rex Stout’s Archie Goodwin. He’ll be very quick to lay out the limitations of his boss, Nero Wolfe. And that’s one of the real advantages of telling most of the Wolfe stories in first person, from Archie’s point of view. We get to see all of Wolfe’s faults (which he himself would hardly be willing to discuss). What’s more, we learn parts of the story that Wolfe wouldn’t necessarily know, since Archie usually serves as Wolfe’s ‘legs, eyes and ears.’

Agatha Christie used first person in several of her stories, too. One purpose that served (similar to what we see in the Stout stories) was to give some insight into another character. I’m thinking particularly of the Hercule Poirot stories in which Arthur Hastings serves as narrator. He certainly admires Poirot’s detection ability, but he is not oblivious to Poirot’s faults and eccentricities. And that gives us insight into Poirot’s character.

Hastings’ perspective also serves another purpose: misdirection. In Lord Edgware Dies, Poirot and Hastings investigate the stabbing death of Lord Edgware. The victim’s wife, Jane Wilkinson, is the most likely suspect, but according to the testimony of twelve other people, she was at a dinner party in a different part of London at the time of the murder. It’s a difficult case, and at one point, Poirot explains why he values Hastings’ perspective on it so much:
 

‘‘In you, Hastings, I find the normal mind almost perfectly illustrated.’’
 

What he means is that he learns from Hastings what the murder wants him to think. Hastings is not stupid, but he doesn’t put pieces of a case together the way Poirot does. He sees and hears things, but isn’t always aware of their significance.

Christie also created several first-person stories where the narrator is unreliable – another form of misdirection. I won’t list titles or characters, as that would give spoilers. But fans will know which ones I mean. And she’s not the only one who uses first person for the purpose of creating an unreliable narrator. A few authors and titles that come to my mind are James W. Fuerst’s Huge, Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice, Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, and Alice LaPlante’s Turn of Mind.

There are other reasons, too, for which authors choose the first person. For example, it allows for readers to really get to understand the protagonist. But it’s got its limits. It’s harder for an author to share information that a given character couldn’t know unless that author uses third person. That reader omniscience allows for a great deal of suspense as readers can anticipate what’s going to happen next once they get some information. Karin Fossum does this quite a lot with her Konrad Sejer stories, for instance. As one example, in When the Devil Holds the Candle, we know something terrible is going to happen when best friends Andreas Winther and Sivert ‘Zipp” Skorpe spend a fateful day together. But Sejer doesn’t know. And that tension as the events unfold, and as Sejer later investigates them adds to the suspense.

There’s also the fact that third person allows for multiple points of view. Many, many writers (including yours truly) share stories through different points of view. Doing that gives the reader a broader perspective on the events. It also allows for the evolution of a group of characters (since the reader can get to know more than one of them). Kate Atkinson does this in One Good Turn, for instance. In that novel, we follow the lives of several disparate characters, including her protagonist Jackson Brodie, who all end up in the same place one afternoon when a blue Honda crashes into the back of a silver Peugeot being driven by Paul Bradley. The lead-up to the crash, and the consequences of it, are fateful for several of the characters, and Atkinson shows us that through more than one pair of eyes.

There are some authors who’ve actually chosen to use the second person, too. Charles Stross’ Rule 34 comes to my mind as an example of this. That novel takes place in the near future, in a sort of alternative reality. In it, Edinburgh police detective Liz Kavanaugh and her team investigate several murders that are connected with online spamming, a shadowy criminal group called The Organization, and a former identity thief named Anwar. The points of view shift throughout the novel, but the story is all told in the second person.

There are good reasons to choose one or another way to tell a story. Neither first person nor third person is always ideal, and a lot of people are not comfortable with second person. At the same time, each of these offers some important advantages, too. Do you have a preference? Let me know in the poll below, and we’ll talk about it again when everyone’s had a week to vote. I’ll be interested in what you have to say. If you’re a writer, what drew you to the first/second/third person choices you’ve made?

 

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beatles’ I Am the Walrus.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alice LaPlante, Arthur Conan Doyle, Charles Stross, James W. Fuerst, Karin Fossum, Kate Atkinson, Mark Haddon, Rex Stout, Virginia Duigan