Category Archives: Virginia Duigan

She’s Never Had a Nickname*

NicknameNicknames are a big part of many cultures. Sometimes they’re simply shortened versions of people’s names. Other times they’re descriptive (e.g. either ‘Curly’ or ‘Baldy’ for someone with no hair). Still other times they’re intended as insults. Either way, nicknames can add depth to a fictional character. And sometimes, they’re pretty funny, too. Here are just a few crime-fictional examples to show you what I mean.

In Agatha Christie’s Mrs. McGinty’s Dead, Hercule Poirot is persuaded to travel to the village of Broadhinny to investigate the death of a charwoman. Everyone thinks the murderer is her lodger James Bentley, but Superintendent Spence is beginning to think Bentley is innocent. And as Poirot gets to know the various villagers, he suspects that several of them are hiding things that Mrs. McGinty may have discovered. One of Bentley’s few friends, former co-worker Maude Williams, wants to help clear Bentley’s name. Poirot enlists her aid as a sort of spy in the home of Roger and Edith Wetherby, with the goal of finding a clue that might link them to Mrs. McGinty’s death. The Wetherbys are not pleasant, friendly people; in fact, here is how Maude describes them during a conversation with Poirot:
 

‘Old Frozen Fish was shut up in his study as usual…
So I nipped upstairs into Her Acidity’s bedroom…’
 

Those nicknames really are quite descriptive, actually.

In Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice, we meet former school principal Thea Farmer. She’s had the perfect home built for herself in New South Wales’ Blue Mountains, and is looking forward to living there. But then, some bad financial decisions and bad luck get in her way, and she’s forced to sell that perfect home and settle for the smaller house next door – a house she calls ‘the hovel.’ To add insult to injury, her dream home is purchased by Frank Campbell and Ellyce Carrington, and they soon move in. Thea is contemptuous of the new arrivals and very resentful that they’re living in ‘her’ home. In fact, her name for them is ‘the Invaders.’ It’s quite reflective of what she really thinks of them and of her perception of life. Then, unexpectedly, she develops a sort of awkward friendship with Frank’s niece Kim, who comes to live with him and Ellyce. So when Thea begins to suspect that they are not providing an appropriate home for a child, she wants something done about it. The police can’t do much, so Thea makes plans of her own…

Of course, not all nicknames are meant as insults. In Adrian Hyland’s Gunshot Road, for instance, Aboriginal Community Police Officer (ACPO) Emily Tempest investigates when former prospector Albert ‘Doc’ Ozolins is killed. At first it looks as though he was murdered as the result of a drunken quarrel. But Tempest suspects otherwise and starts to ask questions. Doc got his nickname because he was a geologist, and although he was a little eccentric, there are people who respected his knowledge. Tempest’s own miner/prospector father is nicknamed ‘Motor Jack.’

In Kel Robertson’s Smoke and Mirrors, Australian Federal Police (AFP) officer Bradman ‘Brad’ Chen is taking some time off duty to recover from the events of Dead Set. But he’s persuaded to come back to active duty when two politically charged murders occur. Alec Dennet, a member of Gough Whitlam’s (1972-1975) government, has been writing his memoirs with his editor Lorraine Starke. One night they’re both killed, and the AFP wants Chen back at work to help investigate. One possibility is that Dennet and Starke were killed because of the ‘dirty laundry’ he was going to include in his memoirs. There are several people in powerful places who don’t want that to happen. But there are other possibilities too, so Chen and his team have their work cut out for them, as the saying goes. Throughout the novel, Chen works with Constable Paul ‘Voodoo’ Filipowski, who turns out to be very helpful on the case. Voodoo got his name because he was badly injured in one particular incident, but survived, although odds were he wouldn’t. Chen also works with another teammate nicknamed Talkative and with Baby’s Arm, a police videographer.

Fans of Tarquin Hall’s series featuring Vishwas ‘Vish’ Puri will know that nicknames are woven all through that series. Puri himself is sometimes nicknamed ‘Chubby’ because of his fondness for food. His office boy has the equally unflattering name of Doorstop, because he does nothing all day. Then there’s Handbrake, Puri’s driver, and Facecream, one of his investigators who has the knack of blending in wherever she goes. There’s also Tube Light, who is Puri’s top operative and quite skilled with things technical; and Flush, who got his nickname because his was the first house in his village with indoor plumbing.

Sometimes, nicknames are actually more appealing than a character’s real name. For instance, Anya Lipska’s DC Natalie Kershaw frequently reports to DS Alvin ‘Streaky’ Bacon.
 

‘Alvin, she [Kershaw] thought. Who knew?’
 

Her boss doesn’t mind being called Streaky. Alvin is another thing.

And that’s the thing about nicknames. They can be insulting, a sign of bonding, or simply descriptive. They can also add solid character depth. Which fictional nicknames have stayed with you? If you’re a writer, do you give your characters nicknames?
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Go-Betweens’ Head Full of Steam.

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Tarquin Hall, Adrian Hyland, Kel Robertson, Virginia Duigan, Anya Lipska

Where Are You Now?*

Whatever Happened toSome fictional characters are interesting enough, or sympathetic enough, or in enough of a difficult situation that you wonder whatever happened to them after the events in the story. Those characters may or may not be main characters. They may appear in series or standalones. Either way, their stories aren’t complete by the end of a novel, so the reader isn’t told what, exactly, happened to them.

Each of us finds different characters interesting, so I’d imagine we’ll each have different lists of those ‘whatever happened to…’ characters. Here are a few I’ve wondered about, to show you what I mean. I still would like to know what happened to them.

In Agatha Christie’s 4:50 From Paddington (AKA What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw!), Elspeth McGillicuddy is taking a train to visit her friend Miss Marple. When another train passes by, she happens to glance into its window. That’s when she sees someone strangling a woman. Very much upset, she contacts the conductor and when the train gets to the station, the conductor passes along her worry. But no bodies are discovered, and no-one has reported a missing person. So no-one really believes Mrs. McGillicuddy’s story – no-one, that is, except Miss Marple. She knows that her friend is neither fanciful nor given to lying, so she does a little of her own research and finds out where the body is probably located: on the grounds of Rutherford Hall, the property of the Crackenthorpe family. Knowing she can’t get away with poking about on the grounds, Miss Marple enlists her friend, professional housekeeper Lucy Eyelesbarrow. Lucy gets a position in the household and, as soon as she is settled in, she begins to search. She discovers the body on the property, but everyone in the Crackenthorpe family claims they don’t know the dead woman. Miss Marple is quite certain that’s not the case, and she looks more deeply into the matter. In the end, we learn who the dead woman was, what her connection to the family was, and why and by whom she was killed. In the course of the story, a few members of the Crackenthorpe family show more than a passing interest in Lucy, and she’s in turn interested in two of them. I’ve always wondered which one she actually chose. Miss Marple seems to know…

C.J. Box is perhaps best known for his series featuring Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett, but he’s done some standalones too. One of them is Three Weeks to Say Goodbye. In that novel, travel and tourism professional Jack McGuane and his wife Melissa face every adoptive parent’s worst nightmare: a court order to return their daughter to her biological father. They’ve loved their baby Angelina since they brought her home, and have proven themselves to be more than fit parents. But they learn to their shock that Angelina’s biological father Garrett Moreland never waived his parental rights. Now he wants to exercise them, and he’s supported by his father, powerful local judge John Moreland. At first, the Morelands try to persuade, then basically bribe, the McGuanes to give them Angelina. When that doesn’t work, Judge Moreland uses his authority to issue a court order giving the couple twenty-one days in which to relinquish custody. They vow to do whatever it takes to keep their child, and that leads to things neither had imagined. At the end of the story, we do get the answers to the main questions (e.g. why the Morelands are so desperate to get Angelina back). But the story doesn’t end neatly. I’d really like to know what happened to the McGuanes after everything they’ve gone through in the novel.

Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice introduces readers to former school principal Thea Farmer. She left her position and had a ‘dream home’ built in New South Wales’ Blue Mountains. Unfortunately, some poor financial planning has forced Thea to give up that lovely house and settle for the house next door – a house she calls ‘the hovel.’ As though that weren’t enough, Frank Campbell and Ellice Carrington buy the house Thea considers hers, and move in. She considers them intruders and wants nothing to do with them. And for Thea, things get even worse when Frank’s twelve-year-old niece Kim joins the Campbell/Carrington home. After a time though, Thea finds herself developing an awkward sort of friendship with Kim. And she sees that the girl has real promise as a writer. So when she comes to believe that Frank and Ellice are not providing an appropriate home for Kim, Thea gets concerned. She can’t really take all of her fears to the police, because they can’t do anything without actual evidence of abuse, neglect, etc. So she decides to take her own measures to deal with the situation. I can say without spoiling the story that I’ve always wanted to know whatever happened to Kim. What sort of life did she make for herself?

In William Ryan’s The Twelfth Department, Moscow CID Captain Alexei Korolev and his partner Sergeant Nadezhda Slivka are assigned to investigate the murder of noted scientist Boris Azarov. Since his work is considered essential by the government, this case will have to be handled very carefully. The evidence suggests one suspect in particular, and it looks as though the investigation will be finished soon. But then, that person is also murdered. The NKVD (this series takes place just before World War II) has a particular theory of what happened, and both Korolev and Slivka know that it’s in their interests to ‘rubber stamp’ that theory. But at the same time, neither is satisfied; so, they dig deeper. They find that these deaths are related to something much bigger than either detective imagined. At the end of the novel, I was left wondering what would happen to some of the people caught up in this case. I don’t want to say much more for fear of spoilers, but there is a group of people whose ultimate fate isn’t exactly spelled out. I’d like to know what happened to them.

David Whish-Wilson’s Line of Sight is the first of his historical (1970s) novels featuring Superintendent Frank Swann of the Perth Police. As the novel begins, Swann’s been out of Perth for a few years, but he returns when his friend Ruby Devine is murdered. There aren’t really any viable suspects except Ruby’s partner Jacky White. But Jacky claims that she’s innocent. And in fact, she herself is viciously attacked. Swann soon suspects that all of this is the work of the ‘purple circle,’ a group of corrupt police officers who use terror and blackmail to stay in power. Swann’s already on their ‘hit list’ because he called for a Royal Commission hearing into corruption in the police department. There are plenty of people who don’t want to talk to him either for that reason or because of their own fear of the ‘purple circle.’ But Swann persists and find out who really killed Ruby and why. Readers learn the answers to the important questions in this story. Still, I’ve always wondered what happened to Jacky. She left that sort of impression on me.

What about you? Are there fictional characters whose ultimate fate you’d like to know? If you’re a writer, do you deliberately leave readers wondering what happened to certain characters?
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Edie Brickell & New Bohemians’ Air of December.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, C.J. Box, David Whish-Wilson, Virginia Duigan, William Ryan

I Got the Feeling That Something Ain’t Right*

Growing SuspicionsHave you ever seen Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window? Even if you haven’t, you probably know the premise: L.B. ‘Jeff’ Jefferies is laid up with a broken leg; to pass the time, he begins to observe what’s going on in the other apartments that face the same courtyard his does. It’s not long before he begins to suspect that one of those other people, a man named Lars Thorvald, may be a murderer. Part of the tension in the film comes from the the fact that we don’t see the suspected murder, and there’s no real evidence that anyone’s been killed. And yet, Jeff is convinced that something is very wrong. Everything Thorvald does has a logical explanation; yet it also has a possibly sinister one as well. And of course, the more convinced Jeff is that Thorvald is a murderer, the more possible danger there is for him and his girlfriend Lisa Fremont.

It’s arguably a bit harder to depict that kind of growing suspicion with words, but it can make for a suspenseful plot point in a crime novel. Is someone a character observes a criminal or not? We see that in all sorts of crime fiction; space only permits me a tiny sampling.

In Agatha Christie’s Death in the Clouds (AKA Death in the Air), French moneylender Marie Morisot, who goes by the name of Madame Giselle, is poisoned while en route from Paris to London. The only possible suspects are her fellow passengers, so Chief Inspector Japp concentrates his attention there. Hercule Poirot was on the same flight, so he works with Japp to find the killer. One evening, two of the other passengers, Jane Grey and Norman Gale, are having dinner and discussing the case. They notice detective novelist Mr. Clancy eating at the same restaurant and decide to sleuth him. As they do, they come to believe that he’s acting most suspiciously:
 

‘His direction, too, was erratic. Once, he actually took so many right-angle turns that he traversed the same streets twice over.
Jane felt her spirits rise.
‘You see?’ she said excitedly. ‘He’s afraid of being followed. He’s trying to put us off the scent.”
 

Mr. Clancy does other things too that make the two suspect him.

Ira Levin’s The Stepford Wives is the story of Walter and Joanna Eberhart and their move to the quiet town of Stepford, Connecticut. At first, the move seems like an excellent decision. The town is lovely, they’ve been welcomed, and their children Pete and Kim have settled into school and begun to make friends. Then Joanna’s friend Bobbie Markowe starts to suspect that something dangerous is going on in Stepford. At first, Joanna thinks Bobbie is overreacting. But then other things happen that convince Joanna that Stepford is not the idyllic place it seems to be. Everything she observes seems to have a very plausible explanation; in fact, she herself wonders whether she may be crazy. But she learns that what she’s noticed also has a very sinister explanation as well.

In Megan Abbott’s Die a Little, Pasadena schoolteacher Lora King learns that her brother Bill has met and fallen in love with Alice Steele, a former Hollywood dressmaker’s assistant. Lora wants to be happy for her brother since they’ve always been close. But she’s not at all impressed with Alice. On the surface, Alice seems terrific; she’s beautiful, pleasant and quite devoted to Bill. But Lora has her doubts. Still, she puts the best face on it when Bill and Alice get married. Then, little things begin to surface that make Lora doubt Alice even more. Everything she learns has a plausible explanation, and Alice provides them. But Lora’s suspicions continue to grow. Then there’s a murder, and Alice may be mixed up in it. Lora is afraid for her brother, so she decides to find out whether that’s true. The more she learns about Alice’s world, the more repelled Lora is by it; at the same time though, she is drawn to it. And that sense that something is probably – but not definitely – very wrong adds a layer of tension to the story.

Tarquin Hall’s The Case of the Missing Servant introduces us to Delhi PI Vishwas ‘Vish’ Puri. The ‘bread and butter’ for his private investigations company is ‘vetting’ potential brides and bridegrooms. Before final wedding arrangements are made between families, one or the other often hires an agency such as Puri’s to make sure that the prospective new family member is respectable and meets the family’s standards. One such case is that of Brigadier General Kapoor, who hires Puri to look into the background of Mahinder Gupta, who is slated to marry Kapoor’s granddaughter Tisca. On the surface, there seems no problem with Gupta, and there’s no one thing in particular that upsets Kapoor. But he has the feeling that something isn’t right about the bridegroom-to-be, and he’s become worried. As Puri and his team investigate, they find out something that Kapoor didn’t know.

In Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice, we are introduced to former school principal Thea Farmer. She’s planned and had built a ‘dream house’ in New South Wales’ Blue Mountains. But poor financial decisions have meant that she has to change her plans drastically. Instead of the perfect home, she’s had to settle for the smaller house next door – ‘the hovel,’ as she refers to it. To make matters worse, Frank Campbell and Ellice Carrington have purchsed the home that Thea still sees as her own. She dislikes them both intensely, and even more so when Frank’s twelve-year-old niece Kim comes to live with them. Still, Thea develops a kind of friendship with Kim. So when she slowly begins to be convinced that Frank and Ellice are not providing an appropriate environment for the girl, Thea gets concerned. She soon learns that the police aren’t going to do anything about it because they don’t have actual evidence that there’s any problem. Everything Thea witnesses has a plausible explanation. But she is certain that Kim is at risk. So she makes her own plans to deal with the situation.

Everything may appear perfectly innocent on the surface, but sometimes it’s not. And sometimes little suspicions can grow, whether or not they’re well-founded. That possibility can make for a solid layer of suspense in stories (and in films!). Which ones have stayed with you?
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Stealers Wheel’s Stuck in the Middle With You.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Ira Levin, Megan Abbott, Tarquin Hall, Virginia Duigan

I Never Claimed to be a Hero, And I Never Said I Was a Saint*

Non-Sleuth ProtagonistsMany crime novels are told from the point of view of the sleuth. The sleuth may or may not be a professional (i.e. police or PI), but in either case, we see the story unfolding from that vantage point.

But there are also plenty of crime stories where the protagonist, or at least the narrator, isn’t a sleuth at all. I’m not talking here of those stories where you find out what a serial killer is thinking as the novel goes on, or where the story alternates between the sleuth’s perspective and the murderer’s. Rather, I mean stories where the protagonist or narrator is a different person entirely – sometimes even a criminal.

For instance, John D. MacDonald’s short story Homicidal Hiccup takes place in the small town of Baker City, where Johnny Howard and his gang run everything. Then, Walter Maybree moves to town and buys the local drugstore. He wants to run a clean business without having to pay protection or sell drugs to his teen customers. After a time, several other local business owners join forces with Maybree and help to guard his store. Now Howard faces a big problem. If he allows Maybree to get away with this defiance, he’ll lose respect. And that will likely mean he’ll lose his stranglehold on the crime business in the area. So he desperately wants to get rid of Maybree. He and his girlfriend Bonny Gerlacher devise a plan to do just that. She’ll go into the store posing as a high school student. Then, at just the right moment, she’ll use a drink straw to shoot poison at Maybree. But, as the narrator tells us, things don’t work out the way they plan. In this case, the narrator, ‘though never named, is apparently part of the crime network – someone who’s in on the rivalry and politics of the criminal underground.

Robert Pollock’s Loophole: Or, How to Rob a Bank gives readers an inside look at the plans for a major bank heist. Mike Daniels is a professional thief who, with his teammates, decides to pull off the robbery of a lifetime from London’s City Savings Deposit bank. The bank is well constructed and well guarded, so it’s not going to be easy. In fact, the team will need expert help. This they get from Stephen Booker, an out-of-work architect who’s become desperate for a source of income. Booker is driving a night cab when he meets Daniels for the first time, and before too long, Daniels convinces him to join forces with the thieves. The group puts together a foolproof plan, and at first everything goes smoothly. Then a sudden storm comes up unexpectedly and changes everything for the robbers. This novel is told in the third person, but not from the point of view of the police or of bank officials. Rather, it’s told from the viewpoints of Daniels and Booker. This choice allows the reader to see the intricacies of planning such a robbery. It also gives the reader a fuller and even somewhat sympathetic picture of a professional thief’s life.

In Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice, we are introduced to retired school principal Thea Farmer. Her original plan was to have a dream home built in New South Wales’ Blue Mountains, but poor financial decisions have meant that she’s had to give up that perfect home. She’s been forced to settle for the house next door, a house she refers to as ‘the hovel.’ To add insult to injury, she soon learns that her dream home has been bought and that new people will be moving in. They are Frank Campbell and Ellice Carrington, and right from the beginning, Thea doesn’t like them. In fact, she calls them ‘the invaders.’ When Frank’s twelve-year-old niece Kim moves in with the couple, Thea is prepared to dislike her heartily as well, but slowly she finds herself developing a kind of bond with the girl. That’s especially true when she discovers that Kim is a very promising young writer. Then Thea begins to suspect that Frank and Ellice are not providing an appropriate home for Kim. Since no actual harm has come to the child, the police aren’t inclined to do anything about it, so Thea works out her own plan for dealing wth the situation. Thea isn’t a professional sleuth; she’s really not a sleuth at all. But we see the events of the story through her eyes, and that gives an interesting perspective on Frank, Ellice and Kim, as well as a fascinating look at how Thea sees herself.

Malcolm Mackay’s Glasgow Underworld trilogy (The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter, How a Gunman Says Goodbye, and The Sudden Arrival of Violence) features a different kind of protagonist also. Callum MacLean is a hitman who works for Glasgow crime bosses. He looks at his profession the way most people look at theirs. It’s what he does for a living and he takes pride in doing it well. In fact, although he walks a very thin line at times, given the volatile nature of the underworld, he manages to stay alive and even succeed. His reputation is a good one. The stories are told partly from his point of view, and partly from the points of view of others involved in the underworld. While Mackay doesn’t gloss over what MacLean does, nor what the Glasgow underworld is like, he still shows these people as humans.

And then there’s Wendy James’ The Lost Girls. This novel tells the story of the 1978 death of fourteen-year-old Angela Buchanan. At first the police suspect that someone in her family may have killed her, as is so often the case. But then, not very long afterwards, another young girl Kelly McIvor is also found dead. Like Angela’s body, Kelly’s is found with a scarf around her neck and head. Now it looks as though a multiple murderer (the press dubs the killer the Sydney Strangler) is at work. Neither murder is solved, and since there are no similar murders after them, the press and therefore the public gradually lose interest. And that’s just fine by Jane Tait, Angela’s cousin. She and her brother Mick and their parents have had to live with the aftermath of Angela’s death, and for her, it’s just as well people don’t really ask her about it any more. That is, until journalist Erin Fury decides to make a documentary about the effect of murders on the family left behind. Reluctantly, and mostly because her daughter Jess wants her to, Jane decides to talk to Erin. Through her eyes, as well as those of some other family members, we learn the truth about what really happened to Angela and to Kelly. None of these people is an official investigator, and it’s hard to say that any of them is a protagonist for whom we’re supposed to cheer. That choice allows James to slowly reveal what happened and what went on behind the news stories and police reports of the day.

And that’s what makes such protagonists/narrators interesting. They can show readers what a case is like from a very different perspective. And it’s an innovative approach to telling a crime story. Which stories like this have stayed with you?
 
 
 

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

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Filed under John D. MacDonald, Malcolm Mackay, Robert Pollock, Virginia Duigan, Wendy James

A Fortress Steep and Mighty*

SecurityOne of the most important needs we have is the need for security. We need to feel that we can depend on our lives to stay more or less stable. In fact, if scholars such as Abraham Maslow are right, the only needs that are more urgent are our physical needs such as air, water, food, and physical safety. The need for security plays a major role in many of our decisions. If you’ve ever known someone who kept a dull and dreary job because it was more secure than risking a career change, you know what I mean.

The need for security also plays an important role in crime fiction. It acts as a motivator, it adds to character development and it can add a layer of tension to a story. Here are just a few examples from the genre.

In Agatha Christie’s Taken at the Flood, we meet the Cloade family. They’ve always had the security of knowing they’d have no financial worries. Family patriarch Gordon Cloade has seen to their needs and has promised they’d never have to be concerned about money. Then everyone’s sense of security is shaken when Cloade marries Rosaleen Underhay. What’s worse, he dies tragically in a bomb blast without changing his will. Now Rosaleen is set to inherit everything, leaving the rest of the Cloades with nothing. The possibility of security returns in the form of a mysterious stranger who calls himself Enoch Arden. He hints that Rosaleen may actually have been married to someone else at the time of her marriage to Cloade. If that’s true, then she can’t inherit. When ‘Enoch Arden’ is killed, Hercule Poirot gets involved in the investigation. Throughout this novel, we see how each of the Cloades deals with the feeling that their precious security may no longer be a given.

Ross Macdonald’s The Far Side of the Dollar is the story of the Hillman family, who’ve built a secure, safe upper-middle-class life. When their seventeen-year-old son Tom begins to have some difficulties, they send him to Laguna Perdida, a boarding school for troubled teens. One day he disappears from the school. Fearing that the school will be held liable, headmaster Dr. Sponti hires PI Lew Archer to find the boy. During their meeting, Tom’s father Ralph Hillman comes into the office with the news that Tom’s been abducted and that there’s been a ransom demand. Archer returns with Hillman to the family home where he agrees to find out who’s kidnapped Tom. In the process, he finds that things are not at all what they seem on the surface. This is not a case of kidnapping a rich boy for the money. Then, there’s a murder. As Archer gets closer to the truth, he finds that the Hillmans depend greatly on the sense of security they get from their reputation and their social standing. When that’s threatened, it’s a threat to their very identity.

Karin Fossum’s  Calling Out For You (AKA The Indian Bride)  includes another treatment of the need for security. Gunder Jormann has lived all his life in the Norwegian village of Elvestad. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and life is slow-paced, even a bit dull, but secure. Jormann himself isn’t exactly the quickest thinker, but he is steady and dependable, a lot like the town.  Then he makes the surprising announcement that he’s going to find a bride. What’s more, he’s going to Mumbai to do so. His sister Marie isn’t at all sure he should do this. It certainly doesn’t sound like a safe, smart thing to do. But Jormann goes ahead with his plan and travels to Mumbai, where he meets Poona Bai. They strike up a relationship and Poona agrees to marry him. He travels back to Norway to make the house ready for her, while she stays behind to finish up her life in India. On the day of Poona’s arrival in Norway though, Marie is involved in a car accident and Jormann has to stay with her. So he asks an acquaintance to meet Poona at the airport. They miss each other though, and Poona never arrives at Jormann’s house. The next day her body is discovered in a nearby field. Inspector Konrad Sejer and his assistant Jacob Skarre investigate the killing. In this case, security isn’t specifically the reason for Poona’s death. But it does play an important role in the way everyone responds to her and to her murder.

Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time introduces us to fifteen-year-old Christopher Boone. He has autism, but functions at a high enough level that he can go to school and learn academic material. Because of his autism, Christopher has a high need for security. Everything has to be in a certain order, there are certain routines he has to follow, and so on. His comfort and ability to function depend quite a lot on his sense that things are stable. One day Christopher discovers that the neighbour’s dog has been killed. At first, he’s accused of being responsible. So to prove his innocence, he decides to become a detective just like Sherlock Holmes and discover who the guilty person is. In the process of finding out the truth, Christopher finds out a lot about himself. A lot of his assumptions come into question and all of it calls into question the stability he’s always assumed.

We also see the role that the need for security plays in Virginia Duigan’s The Precipice. Thea Farmer is a former school principal who’s planned the perfect dream house in New South Wales’ Blue Mountains. She’s looking for the security of a quiet, secluded life in her new home. Then, poor financial decision-making results in a serious blow that means she has to sell her perfect house and settle for the smaller house next door. Her security is further threatened when Frank Campbell and Ellice Carrington buy ‘her’ house and move in. She doesn’t want anyone living nearby and even refers to them as ‘the invaders.’ Soon afterwards, Frank’s twelve-year-old niece Kim comes to live with them and Thea’s sense of security is even further threatened when Kim takes an interest in her. Little by little though, she and Kim form a kind of awkward friendship and she senses real promise in the girl. That’s why she feels particularly upset when she begins to believe that Frank is not providing an appropriate home for Kim. When she learns that the police aren’t going to do much, Thea decides to take her own action. This story is told in the form of journal entries Thea makes as a part of a writing class she’s taking. The journal prompts force Thea to confront her own past and it’s interesting to see how her security is threatened by that too.

And then there’s Claudia Piñeiro’s Thursday Night Widows. The setting for this novel is an exclusive gated community outside Buenos Aires called The Cascade Heights Country Club. The community represents security to its wealthy residents. There’s a six-foot-high perimeter fence, a group of security guards, etc., all designed to keep the scary ‘larger world’ out. But no-one is really as secure as we’d like to think. And when national economic troubles find their way into Cascade Heights, everyone begins to feel the crumbling of that sense of security. Then one night there’s a tragedy at the home of one of the residents. That tragedy shakes the foundations of life for several of the people who live in Cascade Heights, and we really see how dependent people are on their sense of security, whether or not that security is illusory.

It seems we all have the need to feel secure. When that sense of security is threatened, the experience can shake us to the core. And that can make for a rich layer in a crime novel. I’ve given just a very few examples. Your turn.

 

 
 

*NOTE The title of this post is a line from Simon and Garfunkel’s I Am a Rock. Yes, I know I’ve used this one more than once. It’s a great song. You’re welcome.  ;-)

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Claudia Piñeiro, Karin Fossum, Mark Haddon, Ross Macdonald, Virginia Duigan