Track of the Cat, (Chapters 6-10)

As has occurred to me many times before, I find myself a bit distracted by the “formula” aspect of reading a Mystery.  It’s that transition from the part of the book (typically the first quarter, more or less) that produces the scenario and the corpse or other foul play, to the predictable gathering of evidence and accumulating of clues section, usually involving seeking out witnesses and suspects and asking endless questions.  Sometimes the entire remainder of the book is like this until the mystery is cleared up at the very end.  I suspect that the biggest challenge in writing a mystery novel is not creating a clever, interwoven plot, as might be supposed, but in constructing it in such a way as to disguise as much as possible the Standard Formula. 

In the hands of a really good mystery writer, this structure is smoothed over with good character development, setting description, and sub-plotting; and this book is a good example of that.  Too much sub-plotting leads us to wishing the author would get back to the story already.  Track of the Cat is very sparing with it; we hardly sense it at all.  Anna is so relatable, and is so obviously uncomfortable with “detective work” that we don’t get jaded on her attempts to find out what’s going on.  Her flash of insight leading to the discovery of the hiding place of the sensitive photos is something we can see ourselves experiencing. 

The introduction of Lesbianism as a major factor in the plot is a bold stroke.  One imagines the elder mystery fans muttering, “Oh, my,” and returning the book to the shelf.  But it doesn’t come off as an attempt to be edgy, or to shock the more genteel reader.  Even when our heroine begins to have doubts about her own sexual inclinations, we can choose to be appalled or intrigued.  Or, better yet, we can simply accept that it’s part of the human condition and that this points up her complexity as a human, makes her even more real. 

Some authors are particularly good at depicting the animals in the story as bona fide characters.  Dean Koontz, for instance, has endeared us to many wonderful canine characters.  Here, Anna’s cat, Piedmont, and the horse, Gideon seem as real as the other secondary characters, (although the cat allowing itself to be “draped” around Christina’s shoulders within minutes of them having met seems a little far-fetched.  Nice kitty!).  Anna’s habit of talking out loud to herself – surely this is a common quirk among outdoorsy forest ranger types – is mitigated by her aiming her thoughts at Gideon as she rides.  The personification of the horse seemingly understanding (“Gideon wouldn’t dignify that with an answer and Anna went on with her musings”.) is good fun.

 

I suppose at this point in the book I should be trying to guess “who done it” but I’m still just enjoying the flow of the story; maybe I’m just not a seasoned mystery reader yet.  The weight of evidence seems to point to Craig as of now.  But isn’t part of the fun of reading mysteries the idea that the truth is not always so obvious?  There’s no butler in this story, so he’s off the hook.  Is this one of those stories that ends with us finding out that the person we least expected is the culprit?  Sorry, but I’m not struggling to refrain from peeking at the back of the book to see who the murderer is; I can wait.





April is Dean Koontz month!  It's also the one-year mark of this book club which began last April with Koontz's 77 Shadow Street.  This April we'll be reading his Odd Thomas, in anticipation of the release of the movie Odd Thomas on April 5th.  Please join us in reading this immensely popular work of supernatural suspense!