Recent Readings: Two Screwy Mysteries, For Differing Reasons

One-quarter of the way through the year, and I have to say that to be nearly one-third of the way through my reading goal gives a certain amount of satisfaction. Of course, when one reads at that pace, it means he can come across both worthy and weak endeavors. Such took place within the last fortnight as I read through Henry James' classic novella The Turn of the Screw and M.C. Beaton's latest Hamish Macbeth installment, Death of an Honest Man. Two different books; two vastly different experiences from this reader.

I will say that everyone should read James' classic. The Turn of the Screw is psychological suspense of the highest order, inventively drafted by James himself at the end of the nineteenth century. The young governess who takes responsibility for a wealthy man's nephew and niece at the Bly estate finds herself in an ever-tightening grip of horror. The children Miles (who has just been expelled from his boarding school) and Flora receive attention and lessons from the governess, who is curious for the reason behind Miles' expulsion. As the days go by, the governess notices apparitions of a man and a woman around the estate. She learns from housekeeper Mrs. Grose that the figures are Peter Quint and Mrs. Jessel. Quint was an estate employee and Jessel was the governess' predecessor. The two allegedly had a dubious relationship in the past and spent much time with the children before their untimely deaths. The book unravels with continued bizarre behavior from the children, which frays at the governess' nerves. 

James builds the suspense, layer upon layer, in a manner that plays with the reader's nerves, as well. Is the horror really within the apparitions, or is it suspense that finds derivation in the mind and expectations of the reader? Are the figures really there, are they supernatural, or are they figments of the governess' imaginations? The result is a well-written story that immensely satisfies the reader. And ideally, it will satisfy viewers, as well. Steven Spielberg is finishing production of a 2019 film called The Turning to be based on The Turn of the Screw.

M.C. Beaton is well known for her Agatha Raisin and Hamish Macbeth mysteries. What they hold in common is a fast pace that will enable readers to cover the story in three or four days. I have read several of the Agatha Raisin books and ended up in the same vein at the end of each--wishing that the murderer would go ahead and eliminate the annoying Miss Raisin herself. By contrast, Hamish--the charming copper from the Highlands town of Lochdubh (pronounced lock-DOO)--projects a warm personality with a kind heart toward his pets. Not wanting to do his job too well (so that he doesn't get promoted outside of his beloved Lochdubh), he keeps ambition in check and is willing to give other cops credit for cracking the cases he solves.

In Death of an Honest Man, Paul English, a newcomer to the village of Cnothan, spend too much time in brutal, vindictive honest diatribes toward the townspeople. Hamish discovers English's body in a peat bog, so it appears that at least one person who had muttered "I could kill him" just had.

The murder leads the reader on a whirlwind tour of starts and stops, rabbit trails, and other storyline red herrings that cross over and barely connect with one another. Yes, Hamish eventually tracks down the killer thanks to the connections of his intuition more than anything else. But his worry over his wild cat, battles with other constables like the deceptive Blair, and other overly-used and tiring matters fail to play critical roles in advancing the plot. I fully realize my book sales drag well behind Mrs. Beaton's, but I refuse to put what few readers I have through a disconnected blizzard of separated micronarratives to bide time before the arrest. Better to have a maximum of three to four strong threads to pull the story together, and ask a lot of your readers that way. 

In the end, I read Beaton's book for the sake of the character of Hamish. But even I admit that the lovable policeman can only keep my patience going so far. The fragmented elements of plot that scatter through Beaton's novels wears me down and hardly lifts the spirit. Story matters, and it's high time that Beaton herself learned and applied that to avoid the Sartre-like literary dysentery that has marked much of her recent work.