"C" is for Corpse, (Chapters 1-6)

Sue Grafton is one of those writers who could take an ordinary story and make it interesting through the strength of her writing alone.  It is easy to take her for granted as being just another fixture in the mystery field, as who hasn’t heard of the series beginning with “A” is for Alibi?  We forget how good you have to be to become one of those fixtures in the first place, that it isn’t just a matter of coming up with a clever and memorable device for your titles.  Her stories aren’t ordinary, although the word “classic” might apply – but that doesn’t make them any less captivating!

A big plus here is the creation of a really unique and likeable hero or heroine.  Kinsey Millhone fills the bill.  When I first read one of these stories, I thought of Sigourney Weaver in the roll, although I knew that she didn’t really fit the part physically.  I just liked that edgy attitude and gutsy-ness that Weaver brings to the screen.  Now I’m thinking Scarlett Johansson, though dressed down to an almost plain jane earthiness.  Too much armchair director playing?  Probably!

 

I like how Kinsey doesn’t have to stumble into an investigation through some quirk of being in the right place at the right (or wrong) time.  A person (Bobby Callahan) who is thinking about getting a private detective finds out she is one, makes contact and they draw up the contract, ho hum, business as usual, just like in the real world, get on with the story.  No dramatic coincidences to get the pace rolling quickly, just solid detective work, which is plenty interesting enough, thank you very much.  This reminds me of the John D. MacDonald stories; just good solid writing.  My impression is that almost any detective story writer wouldn’t mind being compared to him, including Grafton.  I certainly mean it in the most complimentary way. 

The best mystery writers seem to have a knack for cleverly worded quips, often sardonic or cynical, that add just the right touch of humor to the situation.  Example:  “She wore a low-cut cotton sundress, a bright green-and-yellow geometric print on a white background.  Her breasts looked like two five-pound flour sacks from which some of the contents had spilled.”  Or this:  “The air was scented with eau de dope and my guess was she’d smoked so much grass in there, you could bury your nose in the bedcovers and get high.”  I don’t know about anyone else, but these kinds of witty observations really add immensely to my enjoyment of a story, from Grafton to Koontz to Vonnegut. 

The descriptions of the opulent living conditions of Bobby and his wealthy but dysfunctional family keep us enthralled.  It’s a good reminder that the wealthy aren’t necessarily any happier than the rest of us.  There are certain problems that they don’t ever have to deal with, but their lives can be as miserable as ours.  Sure, they create their own problems and miseries; so do we all.  Bobby’s particular misery - his disfigurement and the resulting rehabilitation challenges from his automobile incident – is real enough.  But we get glimpses into his past that tell us that perhaps his life wasn’t destined to be a bed of roses anyway.  The descriptions of his previous self that we get from his mother and his step-father are deeply conflicted and it’s hard for us or for Kinsey to sort out what is accurate and what is not.  Just another layer of mystery in what promises to be a thoroughly enjoyable experience for the reader.

Next week's chapters: 7-14.