The Breakable Professionals

I love the way things evolve.  (Don't be scared if you're feeling fundamentalist; I'm not talking Darwin here).  I mean that as standards of civilizations and cultures change, standards of popular arts morph along with the culture.  In that way, we can study the values of any era by looking at what was created and celebrated during that time.  And, since mysteries have been popular literature since the first "whodunit" was created, we can trace see how some protagonists have changed along with the times.  Of all of these "standard" characters, none has changed more than the professional detective.  They've gone from flat feet to tortured souls.

Think of literature's early detective heroes, Auguste Dupin and Sherlock Holmes.  (Okay, so Auguste wasn't a professional detective, but he's close).  Fans referred to them as human thinking machines because they solved puzzles with rational, deductive thought and neither allowed emotion to clog up their thinking.  Which makes them fascinating characters to follow but not someone a reader can identify with.  Self- doubt never undermines either man, and although both men have weaknesses, they're never disabled by them. Let's face it, these guys are great, but we're not sure that they're human.

Sam Spade took a step towards humanity, even if it was a baby step.  On the surface, he looked and acted like the hard-edged, tough guy/private eye that Dashiell Hammett first dubbed "The Continental Op".  And ultimately, he does the makes the difficult but right decisions. But read Maltese Falcon again and you'll notice that Spade is guards something carefully than even The Black Bird: his feelings.  Whatever else he may think about Miles Archer, Spade respects him as a partner and Archer's murder disturbs him badly.  We don't know this at first, because Spade keeps that secret to himself, but it steers every step of his investigation.  And when Archer's murderer turns out to be the woman Spade loves, it costs him to turn her over to the police.  He gives her up nevertheless because it's the right thing to do.  But we learn just enough to realize how difficult that decision was.

By the latter 20th century, mystery detectives were feeling fear and self-doubt and by the millennium, they were downright troubled.  Thomas Harris's Will Graham is a brilliant detective and profiler but his exposure to evil and his own ability to imagine scenarios from a killer's perspective put him in the hospital more than once.  Graham is a man uncomfortable doing what he does best, even though what he does serves mankind.  The same can be said for Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta, though not for the same reasons.  Like the BBC's detective, Jane Tennison, and Val McDermid's Carol Jordan, Scarpetta is an ambitious, gifted woman often frustrated by the political, male-dominated world of criminal justice.  All three of these fictional, female crime-fighters endure unhappy personal lives. They make mistakes. And all three of them, at times, drink too much.

Lincoln Rhyme and Cormoran Strike add to the list of contemporary detectives with acknowledged physical and emotional vulnerabilities.  Lincoln is almost completely paralyzed and in his first fictional appearance (The Bone Collector) is so depressed, he is searching for a way to commit suicide. Cormoran Strike (first seen in The Cuckoo's Calling) has no steadiness either in his personal or professional life and he's missing part of a leg. But both of these detectives have training, brains and female colleagues equipped with their own talents and demons. Let the villains beware.

Today's literary detectives are strong enough to be admirable but vulnerable enough to be human.  And that makes their stories even more fun to read.

The Sedentarians

For some folks, mysteries are two-sided stories.  There's always the central puzzle to solve: usually who left a corpse (or corpses) laying around.  Then there's the motive behind the misdeed.  But what keeps a lot of mystery readers glued to the page is the thrill of the chase.  They stay awake for hours, mentally following a Sam Spade or Cormoran Strike from one risky scenario to the next, taking on all comers in a fight to the finish.  It's grand entertainment when it's done right.  But they're not on the menu today.

This is a salute to the mega-brains of detective fiction, those sleuths who never break a sweat.  Literature refers to them as "arm-chair detectives."  They're Sedentarians, to me.

I know a bit about Sedentarians from my father's side of the family.  I saw them in action, so to speak, as a kid.  Yes, my dad's folks were farmers originally, but whenever we went for a visit, the family got together and sat.  And sat. For hours on end. Until, if sitting was an Olympic Sport, my family would all have been medalists.  But, however stationary my 

relatives could be, none of them were a patch on Mycroft Holmes.

If you follow Arthur Conan Doyle's stories, Mycroft first shows up in "The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter", and has the dubious distinction of being the only person who can make Sherlock Holmes feel stupid.  (It would be a sibling, right?) In many ways Mycroft is Sherlock on steroids; if Sherlock is smart, Mycroft is brilliant.  Sherlock is difficult; Mycroft, impossible.  But when Sherlock is confused, his bigger (in every way) brother is the person he turns to.  Because, although he doesn't move, Mycroft thinks.  And his thoughts solve international mysteries without ever leaving his chair.

It's a great idea for a character right?  Rex Stout must have thought so because he created another great armchair detective, Nero Wolfe.  But, instead of being a supporting character, like Mycroft Holmes, Nero Wolfe carries 40 plus years of a detective series.  With a chef to cook his meals and Archie Goodwin for checking details, Mr. Wolfe spends his time eating, gardening and solving crimes.  And he's damn good at it.

But that brings up a fairly good point because few sedentarians work alone (Auguste Dupin may be the exception).  For all of their perception and intelligence, Mycroft and Nero both need someone to do occasional leg-work.  Another of the armchair detectives in contemporary fiction, Val McDermid's, Stacy Chen knows she lives in two universes.  In the asphalt-and-steel world, she doesn't (and can't) contribute much to her boss's investigations; among other things, Stacy lacks social skills.  But Stacy, in her chair, dances through a virtual world of information, where flesh-and-blood detectives have barely learned to crawl.

And, for that reason alone, the future of the Sedentarian detectives like Lincoln Rhyme have a wide-open future in fiction.  Armed with knowledge, technology, and first-class brains, a detective can investigate real crime in a virtual world.  Or virtual crime here.  Really, a socially-frustrated, hyper-intelligent, nosy-parker with wifi might be our next great detective hero. 

I'd sit down to read that!

The Wunderkinds.

The child is father of the man, at least that's what Wordsworth wrote (and wasn't he a loquacious so-&-so?) which means the things we love as kids often influence our tastes as adults.  I am (unfortunately) old enough now to acknowledge the truth in this observation, but I wonder if writers deliberately trade on this idea. After all, how do you create adult readers who'll love Fantasy/Science Fiction?  Do you wait until they're old enough to vote and then give them a copy of Dune?  No, you introduce them to the genre while they're young, with kid's stories written by great SF authors like Heinlein  and LeGuin.

But creating under-age Mystery readers is a slightly more difficult proposition.  After all, Mysteries almost always involve Violent Crime, and we don't want the Little Darlings to have nightmares.  (Well, we may, but we won't sell as many books if they do.)  So how do you create the next generation of Nero Wolfe and Alex Cross fans? By giving them mysteries with juvenile detectives, of course!

When I was first learning to read, there were three fictional superstars of kid-lit whodunits.  Well, it was actually seven characters but three detective teams, all of which ran their own brand: Nancy Drew, the Bobbsey Twins and (of course) the Hardy Boys. On the page, they were the Wunderkinds.

On one level, they all looked like ordinary kids with affluent, middle-class lives. Kids that most adults overlook. But look at them again, and you'll see that Nancy Drew is independent and talented, Frank and Joe Hardy never lose their nerve, and as for the Bobbsey Twins, well only Freddie shows a mischevious streak.  Nan and Bert are noble mini-adults. To me, that's a flaw since no hero should be too good to identify with but the subtext was clear: in some circumstances, if kids do the right things, they can rule.  They're as smart and brave as the adults and, if they match wits with any bad guy or bully, they can come out on top, usually without too much help from a parent.  A sentiment guaranteed to make most kids cheer.


A whole raft of fictional juvenile detectives have followed these prototypes from Encyclopedia Brown through Flavia deLuce and the newer heroes have more of a real-life kid's feelings and  issues.  But the essence of the juvenile detective hasn't changed: youth's zeal and integrity, mixed with a world-class intelligence and the emotional maturity of an adult whenever the chips are down.  Come to think of it, that's winning combination at any age.  

The Subversives

Hang around book-nerds types long enough and you'll hear them mention the word "subversive."  Subversive themes, subversive protagonists, subversive...well, you get the picture.  Now, before you decide all English professors and book-club members need to be on some government watch list, what they're talking about are the aspects of a story that make you rethink your assumptions. Part of this rethinking is part of any mystery or detective story. But some literary detectives succeed because they subvert the assumptions other characters make about them.  Like that lovely old snoop, Miss Jane Marple.

In Agatha Christie's stories, Miss Jane appears to be the quintessential English Spinster.  She gardens, she bakes, she wears nothing but tweed (I think) and she lives in a small, English Village. The kind of lady most people expect is sweet and rather naive.  But beneath those fluffy curls and an abominable hat sits an observant and cynical brain. Not much gets past that shrewd, old dame. And when she comes up with some pithy, insightful observation, she subverts the other characters' expectations.  See what I mean?

But if Miss Jane set the standard of the unexpected detective, she's had lots of followers since. One of my favorites is a handicapped ex-jockey named Sid Halley who other characters initially underestimate because of his small stature and background. (Stupid move, by the way) But, most of the fictional subversive detectives I've seen are female, which, in a chauvinistic way, makes sense.  The heroes of the "hard-boiled" detective yarns, like Mike Hammer, Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe dominated the genre for years and these guys are so tough and male that testosterone almost drips from their pages.  The Hard-boiled stories are great and I have a well-worn collection of Dashiell Hammett prose to prove that I'm a fan, but those guys do set up certain assumptions.  Which the ladies then turn upside down.

After hours with the cool-under-pressure Sam Spade, it's a delight to see Janet Evanovich's klutz extraordinaire, Stephanie Plum, wrecking cars and falling over her own heels until she somehow catches the bad guy. And Sue Ann Jaffarian's Odelia Grey feels like my twin sister at times: she's a middle-aged, overweight, paralegal (like me) trying to get through life without too much mess.  Bless Odelia, corpses seem to find her like so many stray kittens.  But probably the best example of the Subversive Detective today is the inimitable Mma Precious Ramotswe, founder, and head of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.  Mma Precious upends all expectations her culture has of middle-aged, single women by opening and operating a successful business, and then proving herself a skilled practitioner of her chosen profession.

And that's the essential function of the subversive theme, to make people re-examine their assumptions. These entertaining stories have something profound to say: that intelligence, insight, and grit can be found in the most unlikely people and no one should be discounted because of their appearance.  That's a liberating idea.  Funny that it's still considered subversive.

The original Odd Couple: Holmes and Watson

There are all kinds of mystery stories, filled with all different types of detectives, but if you're going back to the roots of the mystery series types, the Granddaddies of them have got to be Holmes and Watson.  They're the original Adama-&-Eve, Mutt-&-Jeff, Odd Couple detective team and the template they set up is fierce.

An Early portrait of the Dynamic Duo
Thank you, Wikipedia!

But what makes it work?  What has kept people coming back to these two for more than a century?  I think it's a structure as stable and basic as, well, a three-legged stool.

Obviously, the most noticeable leg is Sherlock Holmes, the world's first and foremost consulting detective. Brilliant, acerbic, and emotionally detached almost to a pathological degree, he's the star of the series and he knows it.  But Holmes isn't chasing villains for glory or cash; he's in it for the fun and the science.  Arthur Conan Doyle introduced the world (and law enforcement agencies) to the world of criminal forensics through Holmes's obsession with crime scene details and deductive logic. But, if Sherlock Holmes is so great, why did the author need Watson?

Simple. Watson is who needs to tell the story because that's the last thing Holmes would do.  If "The Great Detective" decided to write up his adventures, what would he emphasize?  Would he capture the creepy atmosphere of the The Great Grimpen Mire or dwell on the terrible appearance of the Hound of the Baskervilles.  No!  Sherlock doesn't see these things as important.  A Holmes version of "The Hound of the Baskervilles" would consist of long narratives about newspaper fonts, the replication of certain facial features in familial descendants and (maybe) the application of phosphorus to flesh to create an unusual appearance.  None of the Gothic Setting or chilling story would survive because Sherlock Holmes rarely notices these things.  That's one reason we need Watson.

The other is, Watson's our Point-of-View, the guy we identify with, our average Man on the Street. We learn to trust him implicitly.  Sherlock Holmes is a master of subterfuge and in mystery stories, things are rarely what they seem but Watson always tells us just what he sees as soon as he sees it. Which makes the story all that much better when Holmes looks at the puzzles Watson just described and comes up with an insightful answer.

It's the team aspect of this mismatched pair that is the architecture of each story of the series and both characters bring out the best in each other.  It's my belief that the Holmes-&-Watson formula has been the basis of many a mystery series because it works so well.  What do you think?

Some favorite Holmes & Watson stories

• A Study in Scarlet
• The Hound of the Baskervilles
• The Complete Sherlock Holmes 

What Makes up a Great Mystery Series?

So, I've been thinking....

(Yes, I have!  If you wonder where I've been for weeks and weeks, I've been lost in the woods thinking.  And, despite the heat of the oncoming summer, I believe I've come up with a thought.)

Of all the fictional genres out there, one of the most-popular (if not the most) is the mystery novel.  I'm not sure what it says about humanity, but almost half of us who read for enjoyment, find nothing more relaxing than curling up with a story about murder and mayhem.  Maybe we like these stories because of the implicit drama involved, or we like the good guy/bad guy aspect.  Maybe it's the aspect of solving puzzles we favor.  For whatever reason, a lot of people like mysteries.   And some of the most successful mysteries are part of an ongoing series.

Go hang out with a book club or the mystery/thriller section any bookstore around, and you'll see what I mean.  Sooner or later you'll hear someone ask about "the latest Alex Cross" or "the next Kay Scarpetta," which can sound a little odd, to a newbie.  Fact is, both names belong to fictional sleuths who each star in their own best-selling series of mystery stories.  And I'm talking about enormous popularity here, characters who inspire movies, and web pages and reams of fan-fiction and debate.  So, I have to ask myself, Self, what keeps readers coming back?

So I'd like to look at some popular mystery series during June when people are out at the beach, or in their hammock, head first in another tale about crime.  But, instead of looking at an individual novel, let's break down some successful mystery series, past, and present, and figure out what made/makes each one work.    And I'd like to have your help.

Now I have my favorites, same as everyone else, but I'd like to hear which ones you like and why.  Do you favor a Mutt-&-Jeff team like Holmes and Watson?  An amateur busybody, like Miss Jane Marple?  A tortured justice professional, like Dr. Scarpetta?  Or an endearing accidental detective, like Odelia Grey or Stephanie Plum?  There's no judgment here, I just want your feedback to learn what characters have really grabbed your imagination.  And, yes, I'm always hoping to find another good book.

So, fire up those grills, unpack those swimsuits and let's get ready for some light summer reading.  Just remember not to trip over the corpse that usually appears by Chapter 3!

River of Life

I love rivers.

With all respect to ponds, pools, lakes, and oceans, I love being by a river the most.  Landlocked on two sides, it's still a continuum of water that chuckles as it moves and brings down the heat in summer.  My rivers are peaceful most of the time but the last thing they are is boring, not only because they hold so much life but they seem to be living creatures themselves.  I guess I see life as a river.

More than anything, all rivers are made up of water, great googolplexes of H2O molecules, all moving in the same direction. Some of the droplets came up from underground springs, some fell into place with a rainfall, but the source isn't what's important here.  What's important is that once those droplets meet up it's hard to tell one from another and they impact each other.  It may be on a scale too small for us to see but the molecules of water bump against each other on the way to their common destination.  And each encounter changes the path of each droplet, however minutely.

I think all life is like that.  Our lives are continually changed every day by the other life we encounter.  It could be the homeless person we cross the street to avoid or the new friend we make at the market.  It could even be the virus that keeps us out of work or school but our lives and fates are changed on a daily basis by who and what we encounter.  And our actions bounce off someone else, altering their path in unexpected ways.  This perpetual ricochet is as much a part of every molecule's journey as the forward momentum of the current, pulling it onward to its destination.

I felt that reaction that as I watched our new kitten, Steve this week.  We got Steve to be our Charlie-cat's companion, shortly before Charlie died. The sad morning after Charlie's burial, Stevie jumped in the bathtub to chase the water as it ran down the drain. When the tub was empty he turned to me and meowed, clearly curious about where the bath water went.  Up until that time, I had almost resented this new kitten's dynamic presence, because he wasn't Charlie and couldn't make Charlie well.  It was then I realized, as much as I'd always miss Charlie-Belle, Stevie had something of his own to offer.  Steve looks at the world with inexperienced eyes, marveling over things Charlie and I had long since taken for granted. And, seeing the world through Stevie's eyes makes it new again for me.

And now we have a second pet, Mollie-dog in the house.  As Charlie needed a four-legged friend, Stevie needs one too and Mollie-dog looks like a good match.  Bigger but gentler than Stevie-Cat, Mollie loves squeeky toys, my Jeep and jumping onto our bed.  For however long we have these two, I think they'll be fine companions.

That's what we all are: companions on our journeys through life, like waterdrops caught in the current. We go at different rates, encounter different things but we're still parts of the River of Life. And someday, we'll all reach the Sea.

The World Famous Author I didn't Quite Meet

This day should be remembered each and every year.
For the birth of an author, many of us still hold dear.
Though he's no longer with us, his books hold renown
When it comes to kid's lit, Old Doc Seuss holds the crown
But I must add, in a tone of defeat
He's the most famous author I didn't quite meet

When I was small, Dr. Seuss was the Man
and I read each of his stories, like a number 1 fan

The Great Writer

Like the Sneeches, my belly once had a small star
I recited his rhymes while we rode in the car.
I grew up and learned to love reading aloud
I'd choose Seuss to read to the younger kids crowd

That's what my job was one year, long ago
At the main library branch in old San Diego
That place hosted a party each Winter to cheer
Any locals who'd published books in the last year.
For the party, my off-day, I agreed to forsake
And serve the literati their coffee and cake

I don't want to brag, but I must confess,
I looked good that day! I wore my best dress.
I buffed up my nails and styled my hair.
My toes perched in the highest heels they could wear.
I practiced my small talk so it would be blameless
I'd be ready, I thought if I met someone famous.

Tell the truth? That party was a little bit bleak
Most writers, up close, don't look that unique
A few leaned like beanpoles, several looked squashed.
I can't say for certain each one of them washed!
But my boss, Lois, welcomed them all like guests in her home
and asked each to speak about his or her tome.

Now none of their books were on best-seller shelves
Most writers had published their books by themselves
Tales like "Granddad Lived his Life As a Bear"
and "Making a Million with Stray Body Hair"
Still, each author stood before us, head held high and proud,
and spoke on his or her story - too long and too loud.

The writers droned on, till I was ready to weep
For my wasted day off and my poor pinched up feet
When between the book stacks I happened to spy
A thick-browed old gent, in a suit and bow tie
Who he was, I wasn't sure that I knew.
He reminded me of someone...I just didn't know who.

As another writer described his obsession with warts
My boss leaned over and whispered, "At least that one didn't wear shorts."
"Having fun?" she asked. I lied and said "Yes."
"Well, you've worked really hard, in that lovely dress
And because you helped make this day such a treat,
"Come on," Lois said. "There's Someone I want you to meet."

The fan, at the end of the Day

Lois walked and I followed, away from the crowds
And into the stacks, toward the Gent with the Brows.
Lois and he acknowledged each other with smiles
Then she gave me a grin you could see for a mile!
And said with a chuckle that was soft, low and loose
"Ted, Leslie helps here.  Les, meet Dr. Seuss."

My mouth fell open. My toe-blisters al broke.
The small talk left my head without even a note.
I stared till the man nodded and then looked away
I was facing my hero and I had nothing to say?!
My stomach became lead; my brain turned to glue
I blurted, "IREALLYLOVEDSOLLASALLEW:

And that, dear friends, I am sorry to say
Is all I recall about that fateful day
The memory though can still make me wince
Still, I've kept what I learned from that day ever since:
That for my self-respect, and the good of my heart
I avoid the artist when I worship the art.

Yes, the last thing I learned from that wondrous Seuss-man
Is when it comes to writers, I'm just a big fan.