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TIME: Almanac 1990s
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<text id=93TT1560>
<title>
Apr. 26, 1993: Reviews:Books
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Apr. 26, 1993 The Truth about Dinosaurs
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 65
BOOKS
Murder Is Their Business
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By WILLIAM A. HENRY III
</p>
<qt>
<l>WHAT: FIVE ECLECTIC MYSTERY NOVELS</l>
<l>WHO: James Lee Burke, Colin Dexter, H.R.F. Keating, Emma Lathen And Ed McBain</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: Masters--and a mistress--demonstrate
the genre's range.
</p>
<p> To those who still don't care who killed Roger Ackroyd,
all murder mysteries look pretty much the same. A corpse is
uncovered early. Midway through, a prime suspect emerges, only
to develop an unshakable (or is it?) alibi. At the climax, a
recklessly brave detective confronts the cunning culprit and
somehow elicits a confession. Any detours along this
well-traveled route are apt to involve the jiggery-pokery of
disguises, coincidences and undisclosed facts. To aficionados,
however, the mystery is not one genre but many, and similarities
of plot are far outweighed by differences of setting, texture
and world view. The range of the form is demonstrated by five
new novels, each from an acknowledged master of his or her own
niche. One is really a business novel; another ruminates on the
inescapable history of the American South; a third is a
courtroom thriller; a fourth is a classical puzzle mystery; and
the last celebrates the blue-collar work ethic among police.
</p>
<p> Right on the Money (Simon & Schuster; 255 pages; $20) is
the 22nd novel about investment-banker-cum-detective John
Putnam Thatcher written under the pseudonym Emma Lathen by Mary
Jane Latsis, an economist, and Martha Henissart, an attorney.
All the plots center on financial skulduggery, and almost
invariably the villain is the least developed principal
character, typically a faceless mid-level manager who shows
unrecognized ingenuity in concocting a scam. The team's prose
is always easy and mildly amusing. While offering less
psychological insight than the average TV sitcom, it
convincingly conveys the general corporate mindset and the nubby
details of an industry, this time home appliances. The liveliest
scenes depict Thatcher's bickering colleagues; the folkways and
preening of high financiers are observed with utter lack of awe.
</p>
<p> James Lee Burke won an Edgar award from the Mystery
Writers of America for Black Cherry Blues, a 1989 novel about
Cajun detective Dave Robicheaux, a recovering alcoholic and
avenging angel. There's a New Age-ish twist to most of Burke's
work. In the Electric Mist with Confederate Dead (Hyperion; 344
pages; $19.95) is haunted by not one but two ghosts: a black man
Robicheaux saw murdered as a teenager whose corpse resurfaces,
and a Civil War officer sometimes accompanied by battered but
unbowed troops. Throw in the Mafia, visiting Hollywood
moviemakers, a serial killer and such fillips as Robicheaux's
adopted Salvadoran daughter and pet three-legged raccoon, named
Tripod, and one has a gumbo to clog any narrative. It doesn't,
because Burke writes prose as moody and memory-laden as his
region.
</p>
<p> Ed McBain is better known for police procedurals, but his
flights of fancy are more engaging in novels about defense
attorney Matthew Hope, a Northerner transplanted to, and not
enchanted by, ticky-tacky southwest Florida. All the books have
nursery-rhyme or fairy-tale titles and themes. The 10th, Mary,
Mary (Warner; 372 pages; $19.95), concerns a retired teacher
turned avid gardener whose yard contains pretty maids all in a
row--three young girls in shallow graves. Hope refuses to
defend anyone he does not believe is innocent; here he has only
blind faith to go on. McBain skillfully blends abnormal
psychology and tongue-in-cheek contrivance. But he is as
convincing as Scott Turow or John Grisham when he puts his
lawyer, deadpan, before a judge and jury.
</p>
<p> Colin Dexter is Britain's most esteemed crime writer these
days, with six Gold and Silver Dagger awards (trans-Atlantic
counterparts to the Edgars) for his novels about Chief Inspector
Morse, a donnish Oxford policeman. Not for Dexter the flawed
antihero of most modern fiction, even genre fiction; Morse may
be overly fond of a drink and a cuddle with a female stranger,
but his intelligence makes him seem omnipotent. In The Way
Through the Woods (Crown; 296 pages; $20), he deciphers puzzles
within puzzles within puzzles, from abstruse poetry to
British-style crosswords, in pursuit of a missing Swedish woman
and a vanished pornographer who may be connected. By the end the
story is so baroque and self-referential that a reader aiming
at a solution may be a whit confused. But Dexter plays fair and
provides colorful moments and witty asides for those who just
want to be buoyed along.
</p>
<p> H.R.F. Keating's novels about Bombay policeman Ganesh
Ghote are masterpieces of imagination--not least because
several were written before Keating had ever set foot in India.
While Ghote will always fret on a tight budget, Keating ponders
the impact of wealth on a similar cop in The Rich Detective
(Warner; 248 pages; $18.95). When Bill Sylvester wins a Spanish
lottery and becomes a millionaire, he chucks his post in the
north of England, only to realize he misses it. He gives away
money, but the people he would like to have it don't want it,
and the people who want it don't deserve or appreciate it. He
resumes prying, on his own time, to catch a man he believes is
befriending old people and murdering them for bequests. His own
tabloid celebrity gets in the way.
</p>
<p> Both cop and con man are vividly sketched, and the
cat-and-mouse game between them--one willing to do anything
for money, the other ruing the day he got any--is worthy of
the sort of Victorian novel suggested by the setting and chatty
prose. Keating may have meant to get away from the
mystery-as-travelogue. He has created a man so incranky and
idiosyncratic that one ends the volume, as its hero heads to
Australia, feeling sure a new travelogue series is in the
offing. In a season bringing the greatest abundance of
high-quality mysteries for some years, The Rich Detective is the
richest.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>