It’s a Mystery to Me
I just recently read Michael Connelly’s book, “The Black Box.” Frankly, I wasn’t riveted and when I tried to figure out why, I realized it was because Harry Bosch had become soft. His relationship with his daughter played a large role in the story and it annoyed me. He was much too solicitous of her feelings. Nah. He’s an LA cop.
Okay, you say. It’s nice to see he has feelings for his daughter and wants to make her happy. And, you may be tired of the clichéd cops: drunk, surly, never around for family, whatever. I agree with that to some extent. But Harry was almost too human here. This made me think about other books in which I originally liked the characters but began to lose interest when the plot, or mystery, became mired in relationship issues.
Inspector Lynley, Elizabeth George’s character, is a perfect example. Her first books had me hooked. Great plots, well-drawn but human characters with personal foibles lurking about. But once Lynley fell for this Helen woman, suddenly the stories (the cases he had to solve) took a back seat and the relationship was up front. No thanks. If I wanted to read about relationships for half a book, I wouldn’t buy a mystery. I’d watch a series like Downton Abbey, where the characters, very much “real” people, are the main story. Or read one of my favorite authors, Anne Rivers Siddons, whose novels are about people and their relationships with other people.
When I read a mystery, I want to cogitate, figure out whodunit and why. The more pieces that are missing, the better. Sure, I like good characters but in mysteries, I enjoy them second to the mystery. Val McDermid’s Tony Hill series is a great example of both. Tony, a police psychologist, is quirky and weird, and his relationship with the police inspector, Carol Jordan, leaves you wondering what’s going on. But it doesn’t usurp the story. The crime they’re solving together is key.
How real should characters be? Since most people are relatively banal and their lives somewhat boring, a book character must be more than “realistic.” Sue Grafton is an example of humdrum to me. I could care less that she cleans her bathroom every time she’s stressed and certainly don’t want to know the cleanser she uses.
Characters must be colorful, able to be distinguished from another character — perhaps by their speech patterns, their looks, or their mannerisms. Again, their peculiarities don’t need to take center stage all the time. Just on occasion. You want to know them but not at the expense of the mystery.
It doesn’t take much to paint a picture of an interesting character, either. A roll of the eyes, a huff of breath, an about-face and stalking off can do the job. Tony Hill carries his paperwork in a blue plastic bag rather than a leather briefcase. This tells you oodles about him but doesn’t take up pages.
I had a different reaction to “The DaVinci Code.” Here plot, action, adventure, solving the puzzle are paramount. I felt the characters were quite wooden and mechanical and there was little chemistry between the male and female leads. Now, you think, which way do you want it? Characters or plot? Darn, I want both, but I want both done well. The storyline of The DaVinci Code is grand, the characters mediocre. Can you have both? I don’t know. Ask Dan Brown. (Catch him on the way to the bank!)
So, Harry Bosch, yell at your daughter once in a while when she gets on your nerves. Be human. Be real. But do your job and focus on the mystery. I might like you better next time. If I give you another chance.