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The Drood Review This site is copyright
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Wrong man for the job An essay on reviewing
by Jim Huang In Dance for the Dead, Thomas Perry's second Jane Whitefield novel, Whitefield decides to take a woman to Ann Arbor, Michigan. At Ann Arbor she took the Huron Street exit. A few pages later: That afternoon Jane checked them into another motel at the edge of Ann Arbor, past the place where Huron Street crossed Route 94 and became Liberty Road. When you approach Ann Arbor from the west on Interstate 94, exit 172 is labeled "Business 94 - Ann Arbor" It dumps you out on Jackson Avenue, which flows into Huron Street in about a mile on the way to downtown. There's no sign that labels exit 172 as "the Huron Street exit." It's Jackson that Huron Street becomes - a mile away from 94, not at 94 - and Liberty Street runs roughly parallel to Jackson/Huron, in the neighborhood where Whitefield is staying. There are times when a review of a book is about the book, and times when a review is about the reviewer. This piece is about me. Before I go any farther, it's important to say that I love both of Perry's Jane Whitefield novels, Vanishing Act and Dance for the Dead. These are among the cleverest, most engrossing mysteries I've read for years, with a great central character - a woman who "makes people disappear." The moment I saw the description of Whitefield's job, I realized what a perfect figure she is for our times and how ingenious Perry must be in order to conceive of her. But enough about Perry. Let me tell you more about me. Right now, I live a few hundred feet from exit 172, and drive on Huron practically every day. A reader from any other part of the country wouldn't know - or could care less - that Huron turns into Jackson and not Liberty. (A reader from the north side of Ann Arbor might not know, as I discovered yesterday when I needed directions and tried to describe where I was starting from.) All this makes Perry a pretty unlucky writer, when I end up with his book for review rather than a reviewer who doesn't know his way around Ann Arbor. It gets worse. I've always thought that comparisons are inherently unfair, even though I recognize that they can be useful. Saying that a new writer is like an older one is a form of shorthand that can help a reader in deciding whether to try a new person. Yet the comparison is unfair because no two writers are alike, and to simply say that "Marica Muller is like Sara Paretsky" is a disservice to both, overlooking these individuals' unique qualities to focus on their broad similarities, as if that?s what was important or even just what we like about their work. For Thomas Perry, the comparison that leapt to my mind was especially unfair: about two-thirds of the way into Vanishing Act, the first Jane Whitefield novel, I suddenly thought: "I wish Ross Thomas had written this idea." Now, this is a horrible thing to think. Not only is Perry unlucky enough to be read by someone who's read some other mystery writer. But Perry ends up being put next to the man who, until his death late last year, was the easily smartest, cleverest and smoothest writer going. In talking through this comparison with my wife - who also admires both Perry and Thomas - we agreed that the comparison is meant to reflect well on Perry, in that Perry is good enough to be placed next to a writer whom we considered to be among the very best ever. (And, in fact, since Ross Thomas? death, I might even say that Perry is today's cleverest living mystery writer.) Leave aside the differences between the two writers. What really makes this comparison unfair is the way in which it came to mind: not "Gee, this guy is just like Ross Thomas," but "I wish Ross Thomas had written this idea." Totally unfair, and I knew that it was unfair the moment I thought it. And yet, once you think something like that, it's hard to take it back. Unfair as it is, the comparison means something to me. As clever, inventive and brilliant as Perry is, each of these books is marred by occasions where someone - usually Whitefield - does something stupid. Stupid isn't the right word. As careful, methodical and smart as she is, Whitefield misses something that she shouldn't, a mistake that Ross Thomas characters don't make. In Vanishing Act, she fails to suspect someone whom she should view more skeptically. In Dance for the Dead, she makes elaborate preparations for a meeting with the big Bad Guy, and yet fails to cover one of the bases. (And even if she had covered it, it's not clear what that route would have accomplished, but I can?t discuss it in more detail without giving away too much of the plot.) The other ways in which Thomas Perry isn't Ross Thomas are a little harder to define. Thomas writes with a sense of humor, Perry does not. Perry does pack a terrific laugh into the resolution of Dance for the Dead, but this is an isolated instance. Whitefield is so serious and so earnest that she doesn?t have time for jokes. Thomas? action is convoluted and clever, yet rarely requires the elaborate explanations that Perry?s books often do. I don't know how Thomas managed this; it's just part of his brilliance. But these points are even more unfair to Perry than the rest of this discussion, and really boil down to my desire for a new Ross Thomas novel that I know I?ll never get. The comparison to Thomas is what defined Perry?s plot problems in my mind. Without the comparison, these are the points that are fair game for a book reviewer. Oddly enough, I find these lapses especially infuriating because I think so highly of everything else about the books. It's easy to dismiss a book that's all or mostly bad. It's much more frustrating to read a book that's 99% really great and 1% a little off. Thomas Perry is clearly smart enough to do everything else right. Why didn't he deal with the very few problems with his books? Most readers won?t be upset by these "problems." I know this for two reasons. One is that over the years, I?ve figured out that I care about plot much more than any other reader I know. Plot holes - even little ones - really bug me; other readers could care less, if books stand up in other respects. And the other reason I know that other readers won't be upset by this is that friends, colleagues and customers with whom I've discussed these particular books have said that while they understood my objections, they didn't mind, and in fact didn't even notice these problems. So I know that it's more than just an abstract question of "the plot has to be perfect." I'm dealing with a specific case. There are other issues to consider; some can't be discussed without revealing the endings of the books and others are along the same lines as the points I?ve already covered. The bottom line in most cases is that Perry ends up being unlucky to have me as a reader, because these are problems that press my buttons in ways that other problems might not. Of course, that?s the issue that book reviewers confront each time they evaluate a new book. Under normal circumstances, when I don't take the time to thoroughly overanalyze the way I'm reacting to a book, there are two ways I could go. The first would be to drop the assignment. This is the path of least resistance, but it's unsatisfying because Drood ends up letting the book go by without any comment - hardly a service to our readers. This is especially frustrating when then book is so good that you want to urge it on everyone. (There isn't time to pass it on to a second reviewer; it's already somewhat late to be commenting on Perry at this time.) My second option would be to turn in a review that goes something like this: Dance for the Dead
by Thomas Perry The follow-up to Perry's terrific first Jane Whitefield novel, 1995?s Vanishing Act, is even better. Whitefield describes herself as a "guide... I show people how to go from places where someone is trying to kill them to other places where nobody is." At the beginning of Dance for the Dead, she is delivering a young boy to a Los Angeles courtroom where proceedings are underway to declare the boy legally dead so that his substantial inheritance can be dispersed. Leaving LA, Whitefield runs into another woman who needs help: Mary Perkins is a savings and loan thief on the run from bad guys who want to get to her ill-gotten gains. Whitefield is a brilliant creation, among the most original ideas for a series protagonist ever. For the most part, the execution lives up to the promise; the ingenuity in both Perkins' initial descrption of what she did and then in the real story that we learn much later is dazzling, reminiscent of Ross Thomas at his best, in its deception and cleverness. The book is marred by a few lapses; Perry doesn't get all the geography right, and Whitefield - who for the most part is both careful and smart - fails at crucial times to plan for contingencies. But these and the series' few other problems won't bother most readers, who will come away from these books believing that Perry is today?s smartest and most ingenious suspense writer. (JH) Normally, this review is all you'd read here in Drood. Now that you know the ways in which I'm the wrong person to review Perry, do you trust it? We welcome your comments, and will post selected letters here on our website. Write us at: letters@droodreview.com This response comes from a reader who signs him or herself only as "BJ": I'll say! Slamming an author's work by citing, in excruciating detail, how "unfair" the reviewer knows his comparisons are is hardly an excuse for the slam. If it's unfair, then, duh!, keep it to yourself. Also, before, during and after citing Perry's flaws, Mr. Huang drops this clunker: "Yet the comparison is unfair because no two writers are alike, and to simply say that 'Marica Muller is like Sara Paretsky' is a disservice to both..." Especially to Muller, whose Sharon McCone series started in 1977, as opposed to Paretsky's, which is just now celebrating its 20th anniversary. So if we were so crass as to make a comparison, we'd have to say Paretsky is like Muller. These comments are from Steven Axelrod: When a character makes a mistake, or fails to see the whole of a complex situation, that is not technically a plot hole ... unless the character has been presented as perfect and infallible. The idea that indulgent (or not very bright) readers allow these "lapses" to go by - as opposed to the more stringent attitude of your reviewer - misses the point. Readers actually like a fallible character who makes mistakes. Everyone does. But all in all, Jane Whitefield is a lot smarter and more resolurceful than any of her readers - or reviewers. |