Red Mist (Conclusion)

So, how many mystery stories are solved based on the old, “Aha-she-had-an-identical-twin!”  premise?  Well, this is one of them.  Actually, I can’t help but wonder if we really needed it here, if we needed it to explain motive, misidentification or anything else.  Cornwell does a good job of camouflaging all the clues and sudden insights with a “red mist” of irrelevant or only partially relevant information.  It still isn’t clear to me to what degree Kay might have expected to find the murderer living at the mansion where the old murder had taken place.  I suspect not at all, and the murderer’s resemblance to her twin sister, whom Kay had seen before, might have been what tipped her off; but another, more sophisticated and less trite happenstance might have served the purpose just as well. 

Despite all the earlier implications that Kay was involved somehow in the murders, it doesn’t seem to have been a factor in slowing down her own investigations or causing her problems with higher authorities.  Is this simply a matter of misdirection, of distracting us from what the real storyline is so that we are challenged just that much more to solve the riddle of the mystery ourselves?  That would appear to be the reason for including such a twist, along with other more subtle ones.  But I also wonder if, going back over this section, I would begin to see a much more tightly orchestrated plot than I realized on the first read.  Or not. 

Our protagonist isn’t one that is given to starry-eyed philosophizing, preferring to remain coldly pragmatic even in the face of the irrational guilt she’s feeling about Jaime’s death.  The closest Kay gets to considering the big picture is this:  “While I understand the concept of fundamental randomness, the favored theory of physicists that the universe exists because of a Big Bang roll of the dice, and therefore we can expect a mindless messiness to rule our everyday lives, I don’t accept it.  I honestly don’t believe it.”  A Big Bang roll of the dice?  This metaphor seems to me to display a fundamental misunderstanding of the theory.  And the phrase “I honestly don’t believe it” seems to commit the classic error of reversing cause and effect in the form of belief and truth, as if the stronger you believe something, the more likely it is to be true.  (I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here!)  She continues, “Nature has its symmetries and laws, even if they are beyond the limits of our understanding, and there are no accidents, not really, only labels and definitions that we resort to for lack of any other way to make sense of certain events…”  There are so many kinks in this attempt at reasoning that I’m just going to let it go. 

The passages of conversation between Kay and her husband Benton are very convincing.  People do speak to their spouses in a totally different way than they do anyone else, and there is a richly developed juxtaposition of personalities here, possibly mimicking the author’s own relationship with her husband, if she is or was married.  Her daughter Lucy has a very compelling presence as well, reminding me that these characters have all appeared in a number of novels before in the same relationships.  It’s easy to see why Cornwell’s readership would want more of this.

 

If the climax seems a little too easy, with the heroes stumbling onto the solution almost by accident, we should remember that many good mysteries are concluded this way, and that in real life things happen this way as well.  We’ve all experienced it; the “Aha!” experience often just hits us in the face, when we’re least prepared for it.  It’s just that we don’t find ourselves in potentially life-or-death situations the way many of our favorite fictional characters do!



Starting next weekend, October’s book of the month is “Frankenstein,” by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.  The first week's section is up to chapter 4.

“Frankenstein”; or, “The Modern Prometheus” is the original 1818 'Uncensored' Edition of Frankenstein as first published anonymously in 1818. This original version is much more true to the spirit of the author's original intentions than the heavily revised 1831 edition, edited by Shelley, in part, because of pressure to make the story more conservative. Many scholars prefer the 1818 text to the more common 1831 edition.  Shelley started writing the story when she was nineteen, and the novel was published when she was twenty-one. The first edition was published anonymously in London in 1818. Shelley's name appears on the second edition, published in France in 1823.
Shelley had travelled in the region of Geneva, where much of the story takes place, and the topics of galvanism and other similar occult ideas were themes of conversation among her companions, particularly her future husband, Percy Shelley. The storyline emerged from a dream. Mary, Percy, Lord Byron, and John Polidori decided to have a competition to see who could write the best horror story. After thinking for weeks about what her possible storyline could be, Shelley dreamt about a scientist who created life and was horrified by what he had made. She then wrote Frankenstein.

Red Mist (Chapters 19-27)

Now that the momentum of the story has picked up speed, it maintains a pretty good pace.  Dead bodies are turning up and this becomes a “homicide-by-poisoning” mystery, and a pretty good one.  The body count is up to three, and in a classic twist, the person our protagonists considers the number one suspect turns up as one of the victims.  All the while, we’re served up some really intriguing forensics technique, complete with some nice gruesome details.  This is, apparently, a trademark of Cornwell’s and it is done with real style and professionalism. 

One very surreal moment I liked a lot: upon looking through the first victim’s effects, Scarpetta discovers a somewhat incriminating letter to the victim from … Scarpetta herself!  Here, Cornwell’s tight, almost stodgy prose style poses an almost jarring contrast with the event, and the result is very effective.  The story veers into a new direction with Scarpetta now weighing every new development against what appears to be a plot to incriminate her.  When Jaime suffers the same fate as the other victims, Scarpetta is placed in the rather bizarre position of investigating deaths that may eventually be pinned on her.  She’s very aware of the legal considerations of her situation, and plays her hand accordingly, but it’s a real tightrope she’s walking in terms of legality. 

The detective work, apart from the forensics, is nicely presented as well, with some clues that only professionals would spot that haven’t been explained yet.  The contents of the prisoner’s stomach don’t match at all what the investigators have been told about what the prisoner had to eat that morning.  There is a small burn mark on her foot that, according to the prison’s head honcho, couldn’t possibly be there.   There is a mysterious orange, cheesy substance (I keep thinking of Cheetos, but that would be too funny in this context, “smacking” of the product placement phenomenon in movies!) which appears smeared on the victim’s pants and under one fingernail.  All these little details will eventually help solve the crime, of course, so it’s fun to try and imagine how. 

Amusing, too, is how the dialog occasionally slips into a rather pedantic mode when the investigators begin to discuss interesting scientific and investigative topics.  “Clostridium botulinum, the anaerobic organism that produces the poison or nerve toxin, is ubiquitous.”  This is Kay speaking to a colleague. “The bacterium is in the soil and the sediments of lakes and ponds.  Virtually any food or liquid could be at risk for contamination.”  You can almost hear the deep baritone of a science film narrator intoning these factoids.  “Food-borne botulism is commonly associated with improper canning and poor hygienic procedures or oils infused with garlic or herbs and then not refrigerated.  Poorly washed raw vegetables, potatoes cooked in aluminum foil and allowed to cool before they’re served.”  This sounds like it could have been lifted from a government pamphlet on food safety!  But then Sammy Chang makes it real, “…well, that just ruined a lot of foods for me.”

 

All signs point to a very satisfying ending, both in terms of the science involved and in terms of the conclusion to a well-written mystery story.  If the final quarter of the book plays out as well as the second and third quarters, I will have considered the time reading the book well spent, and certainly consider reading another one of Cornwell’s novels soon; though perhaps one that is not part of a series this time!




Next week: Conclusion.

October’s book of the month: “Frankenstein,” by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.  “Frankenstein”; or, “The Modern Prometheus” is the original 1818 'Uncensored' Edition of Frankenstein as first published anonymously in 1818. This original version is much more true to the spirit of the author's original intentions than the heavily revised 1831 edition, edited by Shelley, in part, because of pressure to make the story more conservative. Many scholars prefer the 1818 text to the more common 1831 edition.  Shelley started writing the story when she was nineteen, and the novel was published when she was twenty-one. The first edition was published anonymously in London in 1818. Shelley's name appears on the second edition, published in France in 1823.
Shelley had travelled in the region of Geneva, where much of the story takes place, and the topics of galvanism and other similar occult ideas were themes of conversation among her companions, particularly her future husband, Percy Shelley. The storyline emerged from a dream. Mary, Percy, Lord Byron, and John Polidori decided to have a competition to see who could write the best horror story. After thinking for weeks about what her possible storyline could be, Shelley dreamt about a scientist who created life and was horrified by what he had made. She then wrote Frankenstein.

Red Mist (Chapters 11-18)

Cornwell continues to offer a great amount of detail about the relationships of the main characters and their loved ones and acquaintances.  A good author knows that readers care more about the story if they care about the characters, but it begins to get tedious here.  The more she goes on about the details of the relationships the less I care.  These are, after all, fictional characters.  It’s as if she’s begging us to care about them, so that the story will appeal to us.  It has occurred to me quite a few times while reading this that I have neglected the literary genres specifically aimed at female readership.  Once I was told – by a female - that if I were to read a book by Danielle Steel, that I just wouldn’t like it, because I’m a guy.  I took the challenge and she recommended “Message from Nam,” since the setting was a war zone – “which a guy can maybe relate to.”  I didn’t like it.  The main thing I didn’t like was the amateurish prose itself; as if it had been written by a precocious thirteen-year-old, with an understanding of adult issues, but very little training or experience in writing.  But I didn’t like it on other levels as well. 

“Red Mist” is a marked improvement over the Steel book, but I’m still haunted by the “written-for-women” ghost.  I like to think that I’m open-minded enough to “get it” and enjoy it anyway, just like I’m open-minded about reading books for teens (I do very much like the “Twilight” series and the “Hunger Games” books!) or books written for blacks.  I hate to consider the idea that books “written for women” are written at an inferior level, as if women aren’t as smart as men, so it doesn’t matter if you write down to them.  I have been out-achieved, out-smarted, and out-classed by women far too many times to have such a Neanderthal attitude about them.  That’s why this topic – and books like this – are such a disturbing enigma for me. 

Now, to get nitpicky… 1. Switching tenses mid-sentence:  “It was still hot when the sun came up, and by eight a.m. I’m [I was] sweltering in black field clothes…” 2. Wrong word spelling:  “…I realized I can’t afford to waiver [waver] in my resolve.”  3. Confused syntax:  “I’m involved not because I volunteered.”  But it’s not really being nitpicky, because these things keep popping up throughout the entire book so far.  These three examples occurred within the space of one page!  Ms. Cornwell needs to find a good editor and just completely surrender to that person’s judgment.

 

However…  Suddenly, at chapter 16, the story shifts into a higher gear.  All the relationship-oriented small-talk switches to a much more interesting shop-talk; the forensic lab shop-talk of the professional M. E.  Here is where Cornwell shines, and where we finally get a glimpse of her extensive knowledge on the subject.  I have only watched a few small fragments of the TV shows that feature this, but my impression is that the writers for those shows probably pick up where writers like Cornwell leave off.  It’s just more entertaining, to me at least, to read it than to watch B grade actors try to impress me with it.

 

The introduction of the character Colin Dengate is a huge breath of fresh air.  Mandy O’Toole is a welcome addition as well.  This new thread continues through chapters 17 and 18 and I feel that I’m finally past the “introduction” (153 pages worth!) and into the meat of the story.  Suddenly the story is no longer SLOW, and I feel that I’m getting what I came for.  Our main character, Kay Scarpetta, is in her element now, at her impressive best.  Here’s hoping that the “filler,” if that’s what it was, is no longer considered necessary, and the new pace continues!



Next week's chapters: 19-27.

Red Mist (Chapters 1-10)

In general, I like books that are part of a series, whether the premise is continued from one book to another (Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse series) or the newest book merely uses the same characters with new premises (Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone alphabet novels).  A different series by Harris features Lily Bard, and the Library Journal blurb on the cover of the paperback says that Lily Bard “[is] the equal of Kay Scarpetta , Kinsey Millhone and V.I. Warshawski.”  This peaked my interest regarding these characters, and when a friend of mine recommended a Kay Scarpetta book, Red Mist, I thought we’d give it a try here. 

One of the difficult tasks for the writer of a series like this is to give enough background to bring a new reader up to speed on important series details without wasting too much ink (and the reader’s time and patience) on it.  Some authors handle this task extremely well.  Others… not so much.  This is the first time I have ever read a Patricia Cornwell novel, so I don’t really have enough evidence to judge either way.  And it’s hard to separate the “series background” from the “current premise background.”  In the first 10 chapters of this book, we have seen, 1. Kay driving to prison, 2. Kay speaking to prison director, 3. Kay speaking to prison director some more, 4. Kay speaking with inmate, 5. Kay speaking with inmate some more, 6. Kay finding a phone and calling Jaime, 7. Kay calling Leonard, 8. Kay speaking with Pete, 9. Kay speaking with Pete some more, and 10. Kay speaking with Pete and Jaime.  Not a lot of action here. 

Most of the dialog is heavy on character development and “series background”; not uninteresting, but not fascinating either.  Between conversations, there is a lot of “current premise background,” briefly describing earlier events that are important to the story, but apparently not important enough to include in the actual plot line.  To be fair, a lot of really good books begin this way, with a few chapters devoted to character development and background.  But here we find ourselves one quarter of the way through the book, and the “action” has consisted almost entirely of conversation, much of it phrased in an almost chit-chat prime time TV fashion.  If this sounds harsh, I hasten to add that the prose is mostly good – decidedly better than that of James Patterson or Danielle Steel.  (Why are so many extremely popular writers second-rate wordsmiths?)  But the occasional awkward syntax, questionable word choice and sophomoric phrasing does mar the flow somewhat, though I would happily read another of Cornwell’s books if someone were to steer me toward one with a more active plot. 

So far in this book, the Mystery is not so much about solving a crime as it is about the question, “Why are Kay’s colleagues acting so strangely?”  This is fine as far as it goes, but it seems to be milked for much more than it’s worth.  Finally, at the end of chapter 10, we get a hint of what the secrecy is all about:  “’Regardless of one’s beliefs [regarding capital punishment] or moral convictions, Lola didn’t kill the Jordans.  She didn’t kill Clarence, Gloria, Josh, and Brenda.  In fact, she never met them.  She was never inside their house … Lola’s innocent of the crimes she was tried for and convicted of,’ Jaime says.”  It’s not enough to say that Lola didn’t kill the Jordans.  It must be emphasized that the Jordans were real people with first names.  It’s also not enough to say she was innocent of the crime.  We have to underscore that she was innocent of the crime she was “tried for and convicted of.”  Also, this pervasive use of “So-and-so says” instead of “So-and-so said” is something that your 9^th grade English teacher would have red-penciled.  But - believe it or not - I still have high hopes for the remainder of the book!