Ally McBeal gets a badge
I decided to read this book because I have heard many good things about the mysteries written by Alafair Burke’s father, James Lee Burke. Unfortunately, I found the experience rather disappointing. Ms. Burke seems to be a capable enough plotter, but this novel suffers from an excess of twists and some supremely laughable dialogue (for example, when asked if she went out the previous night, main character Ellie Hatcher responds “Nah, maybe back in my old skanky days. I kicked it at home alone last night.” I’m not kidding). Such obvious attempts to sound hip and youthful are painfully common throughout the book, and they are not restricted to the dialogue alone. Pop culture references abound; suspects are described by what au courant celebrity they resemble (Jake Gyllenhaal and an older Zac Efron), TV commercials, trendy NYC hotspots, et al are tossed casually into the plot, and I want to say that it’s for realism’s sake, but the cynic in me believes that it’s a desperate bid to sound trendy through association.
Then there are the plot twists. I love a good mystery novel, but the genre as a whole tends to be too slavish to the idea that there has to be a big sucker-punch of a surprise at the end, and most writers can’t ever seem to make their ‘gotcha’ moment credible. Such is the case with Ms. Burke, who changes the direction of Ellie’s investigation not once, not twice or three times, but with a whopping four misdirections. It would be enough to give you a headache if the plot weren’t too frothy to take seriously in the first place. Strangely enough, Ellie’s partner doesn’t seem to have a problem with his partner’s proclivity to throw out everything they’ve been working on and put both of their careers on the line – despite the fact that they have only been working together for two weeks. Yes, that’s two weeks. Ellie and her partner, Rogan, have instantly fallen into a dynamic most long-term partners would envy, defying credibility because the plot requires that Rogan back Ellie’s wacky theories up.
Not to mention Ellie herself. She is meant to embody a strong woman trying to make it in a male-dominated field, and I respect that. But the message is constantly undermined when Ellie makes statements like the one I quoted above, and also when her romantic life suffers from more crises than you would find in an entire season of Ally McBeal. Her boyfriend is a reporter and they can’t seem to keep their professional lives from interfering in the bedroom. Is he using her to get a byline or is he the dreamboat lover she longs for? Then, of course, comes the tall dark and handsome distraction to fill Ellie’s non-case-related thoughts with romantic angst. Now we have two revelations to wait for: the identity of the killer, and which guy will Ellie choose? Leaving Ellie aside for the moment, the plot itself isn’t doing much to cry feminist. The victims are the very essence of murder-mystery cliché: beautiful girls with a ‘bad streak’ who doom themselves with their lust for partying. Their friends, who responsibly go home at a reasonable hour, are safe, while they must pay the ultimate price for staying out. The guys who party with them are fine – they may come across as sleazebags, but no one ever seems to question their morals when it comes to a good time.
Of course it is only a matter of time before it is revealed that the killer is personally targeting Ellie as the next victim, and in the style of the rest of the book it isn’t quite clear why. The reader must simply shrug and accept it, because it just wouldn’t be as exciting if the climax weren’t personal.
Sigh.
If you’re a fan of James Patterson or other by-the-book mystery writers than this will probably work for you. Otherwise I would suggest skipping it.