Lost in a book

Okay, I confess. I didn’t blog last night because I was lost in a book and desperate to finish it. No, it wasn’t one of my own, though I sincerely wish I could tell you it was my current work-in-progress. No such luck—I’m only halfway through that one.

I was nearing the end of a Dick Francis horse-racing mystery, Wild Horses (2008). I’m a huge Dick Francis fan, though I’m puzzled to know why. His mysteries are all set in England’s racing country and feature characters who are either in the midst of the racing world or on the fringes. Many of his protagonists, always male, have grown up in racing but gone on to other careers—a film director, a chef, a journalist, etc. His most frequent protagonist, however, is Sid Halley, a former jockey.

I am not particularly intrigued with English mysteries, including those by Agatha Christie  who all cozy writers are supposed to recognize as the source of our genre. Shh—don’t tell on me. I usually like mysteries with female protagonists, and I am not at all drawn to the racing world. The only time I went to a horse race I nearly divorced my then-husband because he wagered all that money we didn’t have (and that was on the honeymoon! No wonder the marriage didn’t last.).

The only exception to my non-English criterion, besides Francis, is Deborah Crombie. But Deborah’s a born-and-bred-in-Texas girl who has been fascinated with England all her life and takes frequent research trips there. The result is that her series, about man-and-wife Scotland Yard officers, rings with authenticity. Note that she breaks a major unwritten rule right there—her characters are married!

Back to Francis, my mentor/friend Fred, who is also a great Francis fan, suggested my fascination is with the characters Francis writes about, but I can’t quite buy that. They are not people I would know or be drawn to in real life.

I think Francis has a way of drawing the reader into the mind of the narrator/protagonist, and his use of language is both clever and solid. In Wild Horses, which Fred claims is one of his favorites, the protagonist is a movie producer, filming about a young horse trainer’s wife who committed suicide by hanging thirty years earlier—or did she? The more he’s drawn into the story and meets the real-life characters, the more he doubts that suicide theory. An associated subplot, involving a man he knew as a child, leads him to pursue his doubts to a surprising conclusion.

Francis’ climactic scenes are often frighteningly real and grisly. The hero sometimes suffers unbelievable physical danger and harm, but this one was, to me, less of a nail-biter. Yet I finished the book, late last night, with a sense of satisfaction with the ending. All loose ends had been accounted for.

Dick Francis, himself once a jockey, died in 2010. In his last years, his son Felix, formerly his manager, became his co-author and maintained the quality of the books. Francis’ canon consists of over forty novels. If you haven’t read one yet, hurry online or to a bookstore or library and prepare yourself for absorbing reading. One of my prized possessions is a signed hardback. Francis used to winter in the Caymans, and when my son Colin lived there, he got the autographed book for me.

The World of Books

Last night, with a sigh of both satisfaction and regret, I finished the latest Deborah Crombie mystery, Garden of Lamentations. It was, like all her books, well crafted, complex, and intriguing with two distinct plots going at once. The ending was satisfactory, which to me is the best that we can ask of mysteries, but I wanted it to go on. I wanted to stay in the lives of Duncan and Gemma and their children, and the lives of Doug and Melody. What happened to them tomorrow? The day after? Like all good writers, Crombie did not tie it all up in a neat package wrapped with a pretty bow. As Texas novelist Elmer Kelton once said to me, “Life doesn’t happen that way.”

When I open a new novel, I am well aware that I am stepping into a new and different world. With books like Crombie’s, it’s not an unfamiliar world. I know the major characters, and through her, I’m beginning to know London. That familiarity welcomes me into what I know will be a satisfying experience.

On the other hand, I’ve just begun a novel set on Nantucket, No Rest for the Wicked by Martha Reed. I’ve never read Reed’s work before though I understand this is not the first in this series. Neither do I know much about Nantucket, except bits and pieces. So I stepped into this world with a great sense of anticipation. So far, I have not been disappointed.

What I hope to create in my novels is a consistent world with likeable characters that welcome readers back. It was high praise when a reader wrote, “These are people you’d meet in the grocery store.” But the highest praise came from a fan who had told me she was missing some friends she hadn’t seen in a while—Kelly and Keisha from the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries. Later, in her own blog, this reader wrote, “I think I saw Kelly and Keisha today. They were going into the Neighborhood Grill”—that’s a café frequently mentioned in the books. That those people were that real to her thrilled me.

I’m at work now on a novella featuring—you guessed it! Kelly and Keisha. Keisha narrates this one, which is a huge challenge. She is young, flamboyant, outspoken, and black, and while her speech is not what unfortunately passes for black dialect in this country, it is an entirely different pattern than Kelly’s. Kelly, a late-thirties realtor with two children, has narrated all six novels, so changing to Keisha’s voice is hard for me. Sometimes I feel I’m getting it, but in other passages I know I’ll have to go back and do some major rewriting.

Sometimes, at night I lie in bed and imagine myself in the world of Kelly and Keisha. And I wonder how we get kids to understand the magic of the world of books—some of my grandkids get it but others don’t.

Welcome to my fictional worlds.

Deborah Crombie's Scotland Yard books

I'm almost through reading Deborah Crombie's new To Dwell in Darkness and can hardly put it down. But I've been pondering why that series is probably my all-time favorite, why I get so wrapped up in each book, and why I wait, patiently as possible, for the next one. The books are set in England, and I usually prefer American settings; I'm a cozy reader--and author--and these are definitely not cozy. Trying to figure out the attraction has brought that old question to mind--is it plot or character?
Crombie's works are intricately plotted and constructed. I sometimes wonder about her writing method--surely she must outline. At times I thought in this book she had written herself into a blind alley, but she always saves the situation in a thoroughly believable manner (no spoilers here). There are plenty of twists and turns to keep any reader guessing, and that's probably one reason I'm drawn to read so fast. But, no, I don't think it's plot that draws me.
Crombie, a North Texas native, knows England better than most Englanders. Her books include maps, but since I have never been to London, they mean little to me. But she has managed to capture the language and culture in a way that can only be authentic. At one point, in a news conference, Duncan Kincaid tells reporters, "Further information will be forthcoming after the inquest." To himself, he says it's better than saying, "We don't have a bloody clue, mate!" The clothing is equally convincing--cardigans are not what they are in the U.S., nor are umbrellas and lots of other things. I do feel transported to London--and sometimes Scotland, which I love. If I ever go to London I'm sure now I'll want to see the historic Pancras Station and a lot of other places.
But when I come right down to it, it's the characters who keep me involved in the world Crombie creates. Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James are the main characters--both Scotland Yard. But they are joined by several recurring secondary characters so that the reader feels he or she has entered a small community--their children, their associates, characters added in previous novels. But it is Duncan and Gemma who move the stories forward. They began as tentative lovers--by this, the sixteenth book I think though I may be wrong--they are married and raising his son, her son, and an adopted young girl. They have a houseful of children and dogs and the usual confusion that goes along--such as the litter of starving kittens the children bring home in this one. In previous books, they survived such threats as uncertainty about their relationship, a miscarriage, and the death of some close to them. But Duncan and Gemma are also dedicated to their careers which involved unexpected transfers, long hours, and uncertain schedules. Never assigned these days to the same cases, they manage to share information, concerns, and pure speculation about who did what. The reader thus is part of both their Scotland Yard lives and their personal lives, right down to intimacy with the bedroom door properly closed. They are highly trained and absolutely professional; they are also warm, compassionate, caring human beings.
Those are my scattered thoughts, but as I draw close to the end of To Dwell in Darkness, I'm already aware that it will be a long year until the next book. I assume it's already in draft stage.