credibility
Learning from the master storytellers
Every now and then I like to read a book by an accomplished writer and analyse what makes it tick. It doesn’t have to be in my favoured genres; I don’t need to like the story; it just has to be well written. It acts as a kind of masterclass.
Cold Hit by Linda Fairstein falls into that category.
I’ve read Fairstein’s novels featuring Alexandra Cooper before and know she has brilliant credentials for writing from the perspective of an Assistant District Attorney; she herself is a former prosecutor and America’s foremost expert on sex crimes. I’m instantly inclined towards someone who really knows what they’re talking about. Safe hands.
As her narrator puts it:
… this is the most fascinating job in the world. How many people get up in the morning and look forward to going to work? You and I have never had two days that have been at all predictable in our entire careers, and no two that have been even remotely alike. And on top of it, you do a little bit of good for somebody else in the mix.
So one of the factors behind her success is authority.
And because she is who she is, I’m trusting her to be diligent in her background research. In this case that includes, not just the world of crime and law and forensic medicine, but famous artists and works of art. She drops enough specifics I do know about, for me to trust her in the rest.
Then there’s the meticulous plotting. So intricately woven is it, indeed, that a third of the way in I was wishing I’d kept a written note of who fitted where and how events knitted together. The author seems to have the kind of brilliant mind that can juggle umpteen balls, and know which is which all the time. But I guess, being able to hold details of many clinical cases in your head, and work simultaneously and effectively for all those victims, requires that kind of brain. I think I’d be emotionally swallowed up by just one of them.
Her characterisation is excellent too – each person rounded out and distinctive in their own way. I can see the author’s own professional and analytical eye observing, deducing, calculating, in her day job as well as in the penning of her novels.
Although we might justifiably take exception to some of the politically incorrect comments and attitudes, the dialogue is sharp, witty and appropriate to each person.
Then there’s the clever dropping of actual facts – eg. about art and artists, historical details, real live celebrities. It provides a ring of authenticity and credibility. Makes the whole thing more believable.
It’s a great exercise in unpacking some of the key elements that make writing great. But you’ll probably be asking, what’s the story about? In a nutshell, the corpse of a young woman in expensive silk clothing is pulled from the water strapped to a weighted ladder. Assistant District Attorney Alex Cooper, and her colleagues in the police force, hunt for the killer through luxurious apartments, famous auction houses and avant-guarde galleries. A string of deaths follow. What common factor can link the murders of a rich ex-wife, a convicted blackmailer and a famous art restorer? Big money, priceless paintings, rub shoulders with serious scams and bid-rigging and false death certificates. And now someone wants Alex herself dead.
Cold Hit has all the ingredients of a gripping thriller: high drama, chases, terror, corpses aplenty, police camaraderie, blind alleys. And even the title speaks of a supremely confident writer:
Cold hit = slang term used by scientists to describe what happens when a computer makes a successful comparison between DNA samples, linking a piece of forensic evidence with an actual human being.
Ticks in so many boxes!
The macabre and the make-believe
Last week we took our youngest grandchildren to London.
As you do, we soaked up the usual history and took lots of photos of the famous sites and spun a few yarns to bring the past alive, but a couple of the attractions on our list turned out to be far too scary for them to even try. Fair enough; no pressure. I was a ridiculously fearful child myself with far too vivid an imagination that got me into a lot of trouble, so I sympathise.
But their reaction made me think about tolerance levels and the power of the imagination. Which led me to the extraordinary talent some writers have for sucking you in to a horrifying or disturbing world. It’s just words on a page, isn’t it? A mere 26 letters strung together in various combinations. Make-believe. But put together in just this way those words can blot out reality, take over your emotions, keep you on the edge of your seat dreading what’s coming but compelled to read on. That’s clever. That’s power.
So in this frame of mind my eye was caught by reviews such as ‘the go-to queen of contemporary brain-twisting crime‘; ‘the twistiest plots known to woman’, ‘everyday tales of warped psychology’. Intriguing. And who is this queen of twists? Sophie Hannah, that’s who. OK. Heard of her, not read any of her work. But I appreciate good plotting; I’m fascinated by psychology; I’ll give her a go. Broaden my horizons.
I chose a recent one: A Game for all the Family – billed as her ‘first standalone psychological thriller‘ on her website.
Justine Merrison has escaped from the rat-race of life in London (I’ve just been there so have an up to date sense of the pace and pressure of the metropolis) to an idyllic home in Devon (my neck of the woods so I know all about the very different pace of life and the picture postcard scenery).
Appropriate choice so far.
Justine plans to spend her days ‘doing Nothing. With a capital N. Not a single thing’, so she cuts off all connection to her old life as a stressed TV executive. But before long her teenage daughter, Ella, becomes withdrawn and miserable. She eventually confides that her ‘best friend in the whole world‘, George, has been expelled from school for stealing her coat, a coat which she gave him as a gift. Incensed by the injustice, Justine puts pressure on the headmistress to reconsider her decision, only to be told that there is not, and never was, a George in their school. So far so good. I’m hooked.
Then Justine sees a creative writing essay Ella has written and she knows at once this is no innocent teenage make-believe. Here is a darkly disturbed mind spinning a macabre tale of a dysfunctional family spiralling out of control. Where has this information come from? And how does it link to the mysterious George for whom she’s pining? Before long, anonymous calls start … then threats … then sinister events. Graves are dug. Justine is caught up in a whirl of frightening happenings, which are wilder than any drama she ever worked on in her former life. Just where do the boundaries of truth lie? And how can she protect her family from the forces gathering against them?
I was sufficiently curious to keep turning the pages, but I have to confess the ending disappointed. Why? Because I was looking for something less obvious given the build up. Because the ‘bad guy’ was always ‘the bad guy’. Because the psychology seemed suspect to me. Because it left me disappointed.
So no more Hannah novels for me then … Ahhh, now there’s the moral of the tale. How unfair of me. She’s an internationally famous, best-selling writer with a string of awards under her belt; she must be doing something right. Even this book has been well reviewed by some critics. And yet I’ve judged her on a first taste. I’d hate it if someone did that to me, so it’s only fair that, at some point, I give her a second chance.
I am resolved.