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Shelf lifeLooking at secular booksTHE LIGHTHOUSE I have been fascinated by crime fiction for a long time, but only from a distance, wondering why it was so popular, and yet often so sneered at. Why does crime drama so dominate our TV screens, whether a pretty pathologist or a terse detective is in view? Writing this column has forced me to attempt to answer some of those questions. Where better to start than with P.D. James, ‘The greatest contemporary writer of classic crime’, according to The Sunday Times? The Lighthouse is her most recent work and involves Adam Dalgleish, her popular detective hero solving a murder on a Cornish island. The setting here is powerfully evoked, with the strength and power of the sea, the danger of the cliffs and the rapidly changing weather all bound up in the plot. Such an environment gives a sense of perspective to the actions and characters described, however sinister or strange they may seem; forces of nature are stronger, and ultimately more dangerous. As for plot and people, well their nature is fairly limited. We are in a closed world in which we have one or more victims, a villain, a couple of distanced observers and an array of other characters who must have some credible motive, but aren’t actually guilty of murder. I was left with great admiration for what P.D. James achieves within these restrictions. Her characterisation is credible, with many of the individuals churning with regret or bitterness; we meet a daughter who has sacrificed her individuality to supporting her father’s career, a doctor whose one wrong diagnosis has altered the whole course of his life, a clergyman who has beaten his alcoholism but lost his faith. Middle-class worldThis is ultimately a middle class world, where politeness and order cover the ugliness underneath, and one in which religion is prominent, but defeated. Dalgleish often harks back to his upbringing as a ‘parson’s son’, other characters are seen to be religious, but it is a powerless religion of old buildings and traditions which cannot offer any hope in the face of human cruelty. The saviour figure here then is a man, with his own weaknesses (in fact Dalgleish spends the last few chapters bed ridden) who works intuitively picking up a scrap of information and decoding it in the final chapter. I actually found his character hard to relate to, but maybe I’m just out of sync with the whole genre and am expecting too much from a detective! We know what will happen here. The murder will be solved, order will return. ‘How?’ is the big unknown, and this sharp focus is what drives the novel on, of course. We are inevitably led down a few blind alleys and into a dramatic climax; but this formula does not detract from the fascination. For this kind of novel has its roots in drama in a unique way, which is why it translates so well to the screen, and why it is so satisfying. As on the stage, we have a limited place, limited time span and a limited plot (just as Aristotle prescribed) and these boundaries allow the reader not only to learn about human viciousness and brokenness, but also see restraint and order enforced. Everyone a suspectUnlike many contemporary novels where darkness is unchecked and seen as normal, P.D. James’s world in The Lighthouse is full of an evil and guilt which are dangerous. All her characters are suspects, and an outsider is needed to restore order and punish the guilty. Does this remind you of a story you’ve heard before? As in all fiction we do see echoes of the gospel, but in a limited way. The Lighthouse is a tale in which justice is dealt to only one lawbreaker, with no room for grace or transformation for the fallen people who populate the novel. Sarah Allen© Evangelicals Now - June 2006 |