Saturday, January 26, 2013

The Way Through the Woods (book)

      Colin Dexter The Way Through the Woods (1992) A cold case, the disappearance and possible murder of a Swedish girl, is revived when a letter containing a poem referring to a Swedish Maid is published in The Times. Morse has just gone on holiday, so it takes a while for his investigation to get going. The puzzle’s solution is acceptable on an intellectual level, but this time Dexter’s psychology is off. I just don’t believe the motivations of the murderers (yes, there are two). Dexter tells the story in short chapters, some which are diary excerpts, newspaper clippings, and police reports. The resemblance to a video or movie script keeps the story moving, but it was the memory of John Thaw’s Morse and Kevin Whately’s Lewis that created the sense of a world inhabited by real people that I want from even the most formulaic crime story.
      There’s no question: the video adaptations of Dexter’ work are far better works of art and craft than Dexter’s novels. He’s meticulous in the placement of clues and red herrings, and scrupulously fair in the resolution of the puzzle, but ultimately the characters are thin and the motivations perfunctory. We know for example that Morse likes Wagner, but we don’t really know why. I don’t like Wagner much as it happens; I think his Ring operas are bombastic and stupid misreadings of the sagas, and much of his music is sheer kitsch (it’s no accident that Hollywood composers allude to it when reaching for dramatic ambience to juice up a second-rate movie). But some of his pieces are sublime evocations of Weltschmerz, which is enough. I have no idea whether Morse would agree with me, and without that knowledge Morse’s preference for Wagner over Gilbert and Sullivan is a mere tic of character.
      As crime puzzle, the book is first rate. As a crime novel, it’s mediocre. **

No comments:

I'm an old man now (A poem)

 A Poem I’m an old man now. The weight of my memories bears down on my days. The truck there carries freight, I carry my thoughts. They pool...