Professor As Protagonist: Three Mysteries Set in the Ivory Tower
by Vicki Urquhart
In reality, campus murders are relatively rare; yet, from Harvard to Oxford to the University of New Mexico, there is no shortage of murder mysteries set on college or university campuses. Nor is any field of study excluded from the academic mystery genre. The broad range includes the most likely candidates—criminology and sociology, and some less likely ones such as, genetics, music, and even theology.
A key factor contributing to the huge popularity of academic mysteries is that campus settings belie their tranquil appearances. Campuses are cloister-like environments, whose landscapes are often dotted with stately old trees that cast long shadows, serene lakes that provide convenient disposal for a dead body, a commons where a murderer can disappear among the throngs, and footpaths that lead to looming neo-classical buildings. These warren-like buildings themselves provide plenty of gothic appeal with their grand staircases, towers, basements, and darkened halls.
A would-be mystery writer also will find a ready-made cast of characters on a college campus. Where else are there so many young, romantic, or eccentric people in one place? The tension among and between impulsive students and restrained faculty members creates countless possibilities, from deadly conflicts to love affairs.
Lastly, consider the nature of an academic community. More often than not, it is a politically charged, tightly structured, insiders’ society. This aspect alone heightens the intrigue of any tale of misdeeds and adds the element of surprise. It is exactly because we least expect the kind of cold-bloodedness a murder requires in the intellect-sated environs of academe that makes it so well suited to the murder mystery genre.
Mysteries, in general, aren’t explicitly violent, rely heavily on satire, and appeal primarily to fans of the traditional whodunit puzzles. Edgar Allan Poe understood this and is credited with introducing readers to the first fictional detective, Auguste C. Dupin in “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.” It did not take long for others to appear—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, and Dorothy Sayers’s Lord Peter Wimsey, to name a few. Today, an abundance of Web sites attest to the continuing popularity of the mystery genre. It appears that little has changed since Poe first fascinated readers with glimpses into the criminal mind. Like other crime stories, academic mysteries can offer intellectual exercise and literary allusion, but ultimately, the genre reflects the interests of its readers, and the fact that murder, mystery, and mayhem is not exclusive to some dark, seedy underworld, as you will see in the three selections reviewed here.
The Secret History: A Novel by Donna Tartt, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1992, Like Coleridge’s ancient mariner, 28-year old Richard Papen is compelled to share “ the only story I will ever be able to tell,” as if for penance. He confesses in the opening pages of The Secret History, that eight years earlier, he witnessed a pre-meditated murder for which he was “partially responsible.” And like the poem’s hurried wedding guest, the reader of Donna Tartt’s novel “cannot choose but hear” a story that is less about a crime and more about its ramifications. This contemporary murder mystery is considered to be among the most popular, acclaimed, and influential novels in the last decade.
The setting is Hampden College’s small, isolated campus in frigid Vermont. Richard is a transplant from the West Coast, where he grew up poor, the son of a gas station owner. Nearly penniless when he arrives at Hampden, Richard clearly does not fit in. Before long, however, he falls in with a group of fellow Classical Studies students who are tutored by Julian Morrow, a professor who handpicks his students. Julian is described as intelligent, charming, and “a marvelous talker; a magical talker.”
We expect Julian to play a significant role in the novel, but that doesn’t prove to be the case. Instead, he surfaces only sporadically throughout the story, preferring to live in a self-created world removed from reality. This depiction of the seemingly enlightened professor who is among the last to know the truth about his students is an obvious statement on Tartt’s part. Her choice of Classical Studies as the field of study also is deliberate. The many references to Greek culture, language, and tragedies provide a dramatic backdrop for a murder. Unfortunately, the nature of this crime is anything but tragic in stature.
The reader sees the oddity of Julian’s small group of five through Richard’s eyes. Initially, although something doesn’t seem quite right, Tartt’s characters appear bright and harmlessly quirky, basically ringing true. Unfortunately, 300 pages further into the book, they become tedious, boring, and unsympathetic. The same is true of the dialogue, which is skillful and crisp at first but eventually burdens down the story. Tartt’s habit of interspersing Latin phrases throughout loses its charm. The plot, which promises much in the beginning later grows ponderous with descriptions of drink and drug-induced pangs of conscience on the part of the groups’ members.
Where Tartt is successful, however, is in her creation of villain and victim. The former is Henry, and the latter is Edmund, known to all by his nickname, Bunny. Bunny never has any money, while Henry always does. What Bunny does have, we discover, is an inexplicable power over Henry. The clues (ala Sherlock Holmes) point to blackmail.
Other clues in the first half of the book include vague references to strange behaviors on the part of the group’ s members. Some obsess about the weather, while others are overly prone to accidents. Eventually, these phenomena are explained when a seminal event—a Dionysian frenzy in the woods—is revealed. The killing of a farmer foreshadows a second murder and cover up, and events spiral out of control. Henry’s role as leader is revealed, and the allusion to Golding’s The Lord of the Flies becomes obvious when the group’ s actions cross the boundaries of civilized society.
As the story closes, the characters are so out of touch with reality and the repulsiveness of their actions, that they rationalize them away. “What we did was terrible, but still I don’t think any of us were bad, exactly . . .” says a member of the group. Henry sums it all up by saying the murder freed him from having to think, and now he can do anything.
In The Secret History, Tartt strives to produce a psychological thriller in the style of Crime and Punishment but falls short of her goal. Henry lacks the literary strength, cold rationale, and private anguish of Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov. And the story lacks the focus and single-mindedness needed to be a riveting page-turner.
Strangled Prose: A Claire Malloy Mystery by Joan Hess, Joan Hess’s Strangled Prose is required reading for at least one course on American Detective fiction as a literary genre and reflection of American culture. The book is the first in the popular Claire Malloy series.
Claire herself is a rarity these days—an independent bookstore owner. The Book Depot is a 1940ish renovated train depot that provides a charming, romantic backdrop for a crime. Claire lives with her daughter in the small college town of Farberville, Arkansas, a town somewhat like Hess’s own hometown of Fayetteville. Claire’s late husband was an English professor at the college, and the fact that Claire is a widow is not only significant to this plot, but also is helpful to Hess for developing future plots.
This is a very light read. Claire, and presumably Hess, have a sense of humor that helps keep the prose clever, witty, and at times sarcastic. It’s safe to say that the prose isn’t strangled (although if breezy serial mysteries aren’t your cup of tea, you might disagree), but the victim is. Mildred was a friend of Claire’s and the assumed writer of torrid romance novels with titles like the Professor of Passion. The question of who killed Mildred and why, drives this thin plot. The likely suspects, naturally, are a stereotyped cast of characters, most of whom have a motive for murder.
Claire ultimately solves the crime and the few revelations along the way fail to surprise much. This is a predictable tale, especially if you are a fan of the genre and are well read or at minimum, a viewer of television detective shows. Although Claire Malloy certainly doesn’t live up the likes of Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, or Lord Peter Wimsey, the story strives for the same kind of appeal and must hit its mark. Hess has added several more stories to the series.
Murder in the Women’s Studies Department: A Professor Sleuth Novel of Mystery by Anne Hart, This book is James Bond and Raiders of the Lost Ark rolled into one—it’s hyped as a “fast-paced mystery novel of world-wide adventure, espionage, and teaching on-line how women change policy in a converging world.” Author Anne Hart has written a “biography” of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot and has studied the character of Jane Marple. She turns out at least one novel a year in this mystery series where professors from various departments typically become embroiled in outrageous tales of espionage and suspense as they moonlight as private investigators.
In Murder in the Women’s Studies Department, Tweechig Haroutunian Whisper has a comically outrageous role as chair of the Women’ s Studies Department. She teaches from home, on-line, and broadcasts her research from her work in the Department of Behavioral Sciences on Internet audio. She makes frequent references to the Briggs-Myers personality test, solves a crime, finds a new love interest, and makes the world safe again.
For lovers of the genre, there are many more mysteries from which to choose: Carolyn Heilbrun is known for allusion-packed writing in her Amanda Cross series. Her Death in a Tenured Position is both a winner of a Nero Wolfe award and a title on a list of the best 100 crime and mystery books. Kate Fransler has written a series of mysteries beginning with The Mark Twain Murders, which have been nominated for numerous awards and are known for intelligent conversation and literary allusions. Death in Holy Orders is P.D. James’s contribution to the academic mystery genre.
Despite the hype, Tartt’s
The Secret History
falls short of the mark; Hess’s Strangled Prose is too formulaic and predictable, and Hart’s Women’s Studies mystery is just plain silly. If you enjoy the genre, go with The Secret History, but check it out of the library.
$23.00
Ballantine Books, New York, 1986,
$5.99 (paperback)
Mystery and Suspense Press, San Jose, 2002, $16.95 (paperback)
