W is for WTH*

Review of Sue Grafton’s T is for Trespass (SPOILERS AHEAD)

Alternate Titles: A very special Kinsey Millhone Mystery. T is for Tedious. Sue Grafton Discovers the Collective Values and Book-buying Power of the AARP. Ow My Ears and Brain Judy Kaye Please Watch a Detective Movie and Take Notes Before Reading Your Next Audiobook.

Final Grade: C- or maybe a D+. Past Alphabet Mysteries, though inconsistent in quality, were all entertaining, and with just enough offbeat quirks to set them apart from the crowded field of mystery fiction. They were slightly goofy, occasionally unpredictable film-noir detective novels, in which the femme fatale just happens also to be the hard-boiled detective. With this latest installment, however, Grafton has written a plot that could easily be discussed for 30 minutes on The View. That’s right; it’s one long, drawn-out, carefully politically balanced domestic dispute.

I already ranted about the incredibly slow beginning. And the face-clawingly irritating introduction (and relentless psychological exploration) of a psychopathic nemesis for Kinsey (notably, the psychopath is not a hackneyed stereotype in all ways; just most of them). But there’s more. There’s the fact that the two big issues are elder abuse and child sexual abuse. The latter is highly incidental to the story line — just a character who has previously served time for child molestation — but Grafton leans on this subplot heavily in her soupy wrap-up. There’s the plucky hero, normally a bulldog even on others’ mysteries, who unaccountably lets the nemesis get away after Kinsey kills her son (by biting his testicles then ripping off his arm, a bright point in the dismality… oops, family blog; forgot; sorry). Of course, this sets up a final confrontation. Of course the human most near and dear to Kinsey is taken hostage. There’s a nice fight scene, and the nemesis makes a satisfying splat, falling from a balcony, but again, these are chocolate chips in a dry, flavorless cookie.

Even the side plots are annoying: ongoing bickering between Henry and a potential girlfriend; the Hero’s helper at the end is a stay-at-home Mom (Grafton couldn’t pass up the opportunity to lament this unappreciated group in passing) who discovers she has a taste for danger. Do I see a reappearance in a future novel? Hmmm? Okay, this last one is annoying in a pandery way, but the character was kind of fun.

Also to Grafton’s credit, she avoided the temptation to let the psychopath stay missing at the end of the book, setting up a horribly uninteresting future-novel return. I applaud her for that.

After the action got going, this book was followable. It kept me somewhat mentally and emotionally involved for two or three workouts, despite Judy Kaye’s histrionics, which I think are getting even worse as time goes on… the audiobooks are becoming nearly unendurable. But then the descent into cliché: the psychopath returning to stalk and intimidate Kinsey, leaving telltale clues so she can find her (and the kidnapped Henry). The final showdown. In a hotel under construction (I kid you not).

Throughout the book, Grafton drops painful side jokes and “am I right?” moralizing comments in broad stage whispers, presumably for her aging reader population: Kinsey scoffs as a computer expert (this is 1988) predicts that 10-year-olds will  understand computers in a few years and be explaining them to their parents; observations that people who default on rent payments are almost universally slimy cheat; in-jokes about real estate in California; “well I never!” asides about crime and annoying social habits; out-of-character comments on fashion and interior decorating. I think I would hate to lose a baseball in Ms. Grafton’s yard, or run into her at a PTA meeting.

The denouement is perhaps the most problematic piece of this book. The minor character pedophile disappears, highlighting earlier statements about the rampancy of unidentified sex offenders. Kinsey takes to driving by schoolyards, marveling at the preciousness of children and wondering how anyone could hurt a little one. The pedophile character is a tired stereotype: a past-middle-aged male with no permanent residence who apparently uses (or used) candy and toys to lure unsuspecting tykes into his clutches. Grafton does an admirable job of at pointing out his humanity, and the indignities suffered by even reformed pedophiles, but then, at the end of the book, it’s as if she forgot all that. One of the last sentences in the book is, “There are thousands of registered sex offenders in the state of California alone” (the italics are Judy Kaye’s). Kinsey wonders about the disappeared pedophile luring children into his van with lollipops. She moralizes yet further, urging the readers to help out… somehow.

How should readers help stop the plague of sex offenders? By reporting strange men near schools? By being suspicious of anyone behaving oddly? Especially strangers? By demanding yet more “Tough on Crime” legislation? Forgive me, but I’m currently writing a scholarly (I hope) article on sex offenders and offense, and Sue Grafton’s treatment of this issue makes me ill. It’s as if she did a little research for this topic, but then gave in to Fox News’ “PEDOPHILES IN OUR MIDST” segment, threw her careful notes out the window, and gave in to irrational fear. Pedophiles exist, but they are a minority of sex offenders.The vast bulk of sex offenders — pedophiles included — victimize people they know: loved ones, friends, children of friends, people in their neighbhorhood, etc. Statistically, strangers with candy are a low-probability threat to children. Their relatives, friends, teachers, and neighbors are much more dangerous. Horrifying? Yes. But true.

Either Grafton doesn’t know these facts (in which case she did lousy research on her topic), or she does, and would prefer to pander to public fear instead of presenting information that would actually be helpful in protecting children.

After the sappy sentiment, the useless and misleading moralizing, the uninteresting peek into a psychopath’s psyche, the worn-out plot devices, and the unfocused call to arms against armies of middle-aged unrelated child molesters cruising our streets, this book was really really annoying. Kinsey’s character stayed (mostly) intact, which was the only solid positive here, but it was a small one. Next alphabet mystery: not high on my list.

*Title is ganked from Laine’s original idea. The acronym may not be as familiar as its potty-mouth brother, but this is a family-friendly blog.