Christine Falls

christinefallsI’m a former avid reader of mystery novels who has fallen out of the habit in recent years. I occasionally check out new series, but most of them fall short of my expectations. (It probably doesn’t help that I compare them all to the work of Dorothy Sayers and Laurie King. Who could live up to that?) In reading mysteries, detective stories in particular, I look for an interesting and reasonably likable main character—usually one who is brilliant but still human. The side characters should be well-developed people who seem to have a life apart from the main character, even if readers are not privy to the details. I need to feel that the author is not holding back key pieces of information and that I’ve seen the same clues that the detective has seen, even if I’m not clever enough to understand their significance. So I’m a tough customer when it comes to detective fiction. Several popular series (Maisie Dobbs and The Number One Ladies Detective Agency being two examples) haven’t quite worked for me because they failed to live up to one or more of these criteria.

Christine Falls by Benjamin Black (pen name for John Banville) piqued my curiosity because it, like the Kate Atkinson books Jenny recently reviewed, is a mystery novel by someone more well known for literary fiction. Banville’s previous novels have shown up on numerous prize lists, and he won the Booker for The Sea in 2005. Now I’m no genre snob; I fully believe that genre-based writers can be every bit as talented and inventive as their counterparts in straight literary fiction, but it occurs to me that someone who has made a name for him- or herself outside genre fiction might be especially willing to step beyond the conventions and limitations of genre.

I don’t know that Black/Banville does much flouting of mystery conventions, but he does write a good solid novel that meets all my criteria for an enjoyable mystery. The story begins when the main character, Quirke, a pathologist in 1950s Dublin, discovers Malachy, his adopted brother (and brother-in-law—the two men married sisters), falsifying the record of the death of a young woman named Christine Falls. Before long, it becomes clear that someone doesn’t want Quirke asking questions about this young woman. There’s a murder, an attack, and many complications, some of which are connected Quirke’s personal life, which involves some heavy drinking and his not-entirely-dead love for Malachy’s wife, Sarah.

A parallel thread involves a newborn infant named Christine who is brought to Boston by a nurse from Quirke’s hospital and is given to a young Irish-Catholic couple, not for adoption but for them to raise with the advice of the orphanage that made the arrangements. The wife, Claire, falls in love with the baby immediately, but her oh-so-virile husband Andy resents the intrusion. The results are not good.

Because of these parallel stories, readers are actually ahead of Quirke for much of the book. To some extent, this reduces the number of suprising revelations along the way, but at least there’s no withholding of key information so the detective can reveal his cleverness at the end. The tension that builds during the novel is more psychological than physical, and only rarely do the main characters appear to be in physical danger. Still, psychological danger is in a way even scarier—and the impact more troubling.

The plot does hinge on coincidence more than I might like, but it’s not a major problem, and the way it all ties together makes sense. Even though Quirke’s investigation unearths some shady practices among people who are running various Catholic charities, Black doesn’t fall into the tiresome trap of treating the whole church as corrupt. Most of the loose ends in the mystery get tied up, and the characters are left with plenty of opportunties for growth in future novels. I look forward to reading the next Quirke novel, The Silver Swan, to see what happens to them next.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Fiction, Mysteries/Crime. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Christine Falls

  1. Jenny says:

    What fun! I actually read The Untouchable, and didn’t enjoy it much (overblown prose, in my opinion.) But I wondered about this series. I’ll put it on my list.

  2. Steph says:

    I’ve never heard of this one, and didn’t realize that John Banville was writing mysteries (I have The Sea in my TBR pile, but haven’t made it there yet… I think I write that every time!). It sounds like we look for and value similar things in our mystery novels, so I’m going to put this one on my list (it even satisfies by obscure desire to have my mysteries set in Britannia!). I am especially with you on writers who are skilled enough to put the details out there for their readers, rather than squirreling them away – anything can be a mystery if important details are withheld! It is one of my peeves with the Maisie Dobbs series, even if I do generally enjoy them…

  3. adevotedreader says:

    I couldn’t get into The Maisie Dobbs series either, but have enjoyed both Christine Falls and The Silver Swan. I hope Banville in his Black persona has more Quirke novels planned!

  4. Teresa says:

    Jenny: I think you’d like this. I haven’t read any other Banville books, but didn’t find the prose here to be at all overblown, although there’s some nice poetic imagery.

    Steph: The withholding of clues drives me crazy. I’d much rather just know who the killer is than find out the most important thing way too late. Its one thing if I just don’t know enough about, say, arsenical poisoning to be able to put the facts together. That’s my fault–I should know my poisons :-) But if the detective notices a wrapper from an arsenic bottle when visiting the crime scene but it never gets mentioned until the end, that’s cheating!

    adevotedreader: I’m glad to hear Silver Swan is good too. Have you read The Lemur? I just spotted it at the library but didn’t check it out. Banville as Black is the author, but it’s not a Quirke novel.

  5. Pingback: Book Review: Christine Falls « ReviewsbyLola's Blog

Leave your comment here, and feel free to respond to others' comments. We enjoy a lively conversation!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.