MURDER IN THE FAMILY

Author: Cara Hunter
Year: 2023
Publisher: Harper Collins Publishers
Language: English

In an affluent London neighbourhood, a young man is murdered in the garden of a stately townhouse. The Metropolitan Police conduct an investigation, yet despite their efforts, the case yields no arrests. With no clear leads, it is eventually relegated to the archives, another unsolved crime gathering dust in the cold-case cabinet. Decades later, the victim’s stepson approaches a television producer with a proposal that reflects the growing public appetite for true-crime entertainment. His idea is to assemble a panel of experts, criminologists, forensic specialists, psychologists, and lawyers, and task them with solving the decades-old mystery.

The novelty of “Murder in the Family” by Cara Hunter lies neither in its setting nor plot but in its narrative structure. Rather than a conventional story, it unfolds as a script, a transcription of the television show itself. Dialogue lines are interspersed with brief stage directions indicating characters’ movements, expressions, and positioning. The episodes are punctuated by a television critic’s column, as well as text message and email exchanges, adding layers of commentary and context. The investigative process itself remains offstage. The team, assembled before the cameras, reports on their findings and the reader is exposed only to their discussions during filming; never the interrogations, site visits, and forensic analyses that take place between episodes. The result is a story shaped not by direct action, but by the act of performance, blurring the lines between investigation and entertainment.

“Murder in the Family” is the second epistolary or documentary-style book project I have encountered in a short span. The first, “Sleeping Giants” by Sylvain Neuvel (reviewed here in January 2024), struggled to sustain its premise. By contrast, “Murder in the Family” is a more cohesive effort. Its dialogue is largely convincing, and the information conveyed seems relevant not only to the plot but, more importantly, to the characters themselves.

The plot is engaging and immersive, though it spirals out of hand toward the end in pursuit of a bombastic finale. Hunter appears aware of this challenge and makes efforts to maintain a sense of plausibility. She weaves in backstories and character dynamics among the investigative team, designed to introduce both conflict and intrigue. These, too, require explanation, and the author makes a concerted effort to provide it, with varying levels of subtlety.

These challenges may, in part, stem from the book’s intended audience. Written for young adults, who seem to expect heightened drama and neck breaking plot twists, it relies on narrative devices that, while effective in maintaining engagement, ultimately strain credibility. To sustain the attention of less seasoned readers, the author introduces developments that eventually veer from the credible and enter into the forced. Halfway into the novel the central murder mystery has become secondary to the evolving discord between the investigative team members. The book’s cover invites readers to “solve the mystery before they do,” but this challenge is undercut by the steady infusion of new information designed more to generate surprise and suspense than to encourage deduction.

A minor but noticeable detail lies in the portrayal of the novel’s transatlantic cast. Given that the team members hail from various backgrounds and countries, the recurring references to distinctions between British and American English suggest an awareness of cultural and linguistic nuance. Yet, the author forfeits the opportunity to manifest this in the orthography. Therefore, the American character, a former member of New York’s finest speaks of “colours” and “neighbours”. It is easily explained by pointing out that the transcript of a British television show will be in British English, but nonetheless a missed opportunity.

“Murder in the Family” is an entertaining and easily digestible book which, had it been more geared toward the mystery and less he-said-she-said-high-school-drama, could have been a truly engaging reading experience.       

 

THE JEEVES COLLECTION

Author: Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Year: 1992 (1923, 1925, 1963)
Publisher: Chancellor Press
Language: English

If one has yet to make the acquaintance of Reginald Jeeves, gentleman’s personal gentleman, and his occasionally woolly-headed employer, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, then one has the good fortune of standing on the precipice of a rare delight. A world inundated by country house antics, aunts of a most fearsome disposition, and engagements formed and dissolved at the drop of a hat awaits.

"The Jeeves Collection" by P. G. Wodehouse is, in short, a smorgasbord of delightful prose, absurd entanglements, and a valet who would have the whole world running smoother than a well-buttered crumpet if given half a chance. The form of the whole bally thing is best characterised as a conglomeration of three short story collections originally titled “Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves”, “The Inimitable Jeeves”, and “Carry On, Jeeves” published between 1923 and 1963. The plots revolve around Bertram’s gallant but misguided attempts to navigate society, friendships, and the occasional perilous romance, all while Jeeves hovers in the background, dispensing wisdom like a brainy, and often quite smug, but always impeccable oracle in a black tie.

The universe of Jeeves and Wooster abound with memorable characters, all of whom regularly put good old Bertie in the soup; be it the constantly lovesick Bingo Little, the irredeemably over-confident Tuppy Glossop, the tyrannical aunt Agatha, the choleric Roderick Spode, or any other family member, friend, acquaintance, and antagonist. Watching over it all is Jeeves, who, with the quiet confidence of a man who has long since mastered the art of crisis management, extracts his employer from every mess.

Jeeves’ solutions, however, are not always as seamless as one might have preferred, and particularly in situations where one of Bertie’s friends needs to be rescued in one way or other, Jeeves seems to find an almost sadistic pleasure in humiliating his Master. It all turns out well for all parties in the end, but for the most part, it is Bertie who picks up the bill. The happy-go-lucky chum that he is, he seems quite content doing so.

One cannot, of course, read Wodehouse without tripping over the troublesome relics of the British class system. The world of Jeeves and Wooster is one where gentlemen of leisure drift from club to country house, their primary duties involving luncheon, light banter, and avoiding employment (and in Wooster’s case marriage) at all costs. Meanwhile, the true machinery of civilization hums efficiently beneath them, powered by the clerks and workers of the world; some of whom, like Jeeves, while technically in service, are in fact the real puppet masters of the social order.

For all its rowdy escapades, Wodehouse’s world is one in which class boundaries remain firmly intact, though observed with a knowing wink. Bertie, good egg that he is, relies entirely on Jeeves to navigate the deceiving waters of life, never questioning the latter’s superior intellect. Indeed, the Jeeves-Wooster dynamic is less that of employer and servant, and more of an amiable lord-and-vassal arrangement, where the vassal is unquestionably in charge but allows the lord the comforting illusion of authority.

Wodehouse’s language, at last, is a pleasure to behold. Sentences are assembled with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker who has also, in his spare time, mastered the art of comedy. One finds oneself guffawing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and if one is not careful, alarming nearby creatures with bursts of unexpected amusement.

In conclusion, life is short and one can never have too much of a good thing. Especially when that good thing involves a valet of Jeeves’s calibre, a cast of characters whose primary purpose seems to be hurling themselves into disaster, and an author whose wit is as keen as Jeeves’ powers of observation and as fiery as Bingo Little’s heart.