Article from September 2008 issue
By Jim Huang
For Magna cum Murder 2008, we have selected Josephine Tey’s classic 1949 novel of impersonation and intrigue, Brat Farrar, as our "One Festival, One Book" selection. Please read the book before you arrive in Muncie, where we’ll be talking about it on panels, in discussions, and as a touchstone that will lead us to consider some larger questions. In Tey’s novel, Brat Farrar’s impersonation of Patrick Ashby is so thoroughly convincing that even though we know it’s a scam, there are moments when we start to believe in it.
There’s plenty to consider within the pages of the novel itself. Brat Farrar is an unconventional mystery, a caper novel from the outset that gradually reveals itself to be a nicely plotted whodunit as well. Just as Tey poses questions about individual identity (through Brat’s impersonation), she gives us a window to consider questions about the mystery genre itself. There’s no arguing with Kathleen Klein when she writes that Tey’s "style is pure, her plots and characters carefully wrought, and her adherence to the classical traditions dependable." However, it’s interesting to consider that the form and style of Tey’s adherence to those traditions is itself non-traditional. If nothing else, this 1949 novel demonstrates that our genre’s current obsession in drawing a distinction between thrillers and mysteries has old roots – and when confronted by this example, it’s a foolish exercise.
So we’ll look at identity broadly, starting with how we see Brat Farrar and how he plays the role of Patrick Ashby, then moving on to consider genre and subgenre: are mysteries undergoing a crisis of identity? how has the definition of the mystery story changed? what is the difference between a mystery and a thriller? does the difference matter? Finally, we’ll try to touch on some of the big questions that we face as mystery lovers and book lovers trying to see a future for what we cherish. Does the genre have a future? What will books and the culture of books look like in five years? In fifteen?
We have a lot to talk about. We’re looking forward to it! N
Article from March 2008 Issue
By W. Allen Hutson
I am a 23-year old male college student. I’ve been a Magna Intern for a year and a half, and will graduate from Ball State University in about six weeks.
Obviously I knew leaving college and
starting a career would change my life, but by February I was startled to
realize that my job search was not simply a slice of my life, but had assumed a
life of its very own, almost as large in its individual part as all the rest of
the parts of my life combined.
During a recent interview, the
prospective employer told me that the next year would be the single biggest
transition time of my life. This was just a week after my girlfriend flew to
Germany for five months. Then my dad’s dog died. Transitions must come in
clusters.
So when Kathryn reminded me that I was to write a piece on Magna cum Murder XV’s
banquet keynote speaker, Sharon Randall, I couldn’t help but think, “I’m just a
little busy.” Kathryn knew what I was thinking and said, sympathetically, “Suck
it up.”
Furthermore, my initial impression of Sharon Randall, based on nothing more than hearsay, was that she was a lot like Oprah, whom I try to avoid at all costs. I thought – somewhat smugly – the whole idea of an autobiographical column was overdone and overvalued. In short, I wasn’t wildly enthusiastic about this assignment. But it was an assignment, non-negotiable, so I began to research Sharon’s articles, which meant that for first the first time, I would actually read them myself.
Worthwhile and accurate autobiographical stories are few and far between. Maybe
because the writers of these stories get to play god with their audiences, the
worst of them tend to rationalize – maybe even lie – about situations and their
own actions to put themselves in the best light possible. Mediocre writers tend
to share their six-or-twelve-step approach to life and tell how they developed
those steps in a very self-congratulatory way.
The best of them, however, master the
art of sharing what they’ve learned from their lives without preaching. Sharon
Randall is in the vanguard of this third, and best, group. Her columns reveal a
perpetual observer and student of life – one who is often the butt of her own
jokes. But that’s just part of her appeal. She doesn’t simply make fun of
herself; she writes about the toughest times in her life, too. She lost someone
very close to her – her husband – to cancer ten years ago after a protracted
battle with this horrible disease. Since then she has been asked many times how
to handle loss and grief. Instead of claiming to have discovered some elusive
secret, she was humble about her experience. “You are stronger than you know,”
Sharon wrote in a column published in October, 2006. It was an honest,
refreshing and real answer.
In a recent email interview with her,
I asked how hard it is to write about her own life. Sharing intimate thoughts
and feelings with six million people must cause some distress. She admitted it
does and she has proof: the delete button on her laptop is now especially worn.
Despite this uneasiness she gives unsparingly and unhesitatingly of herself to
her readers which is a very brave thing to do. And because she is this brave we,
the reader, are privileged to sympathize, admire and laugh with her....and to
relate as we realize we are also laughing at the messes we’ve made in our own
lives. Her gift to us is perspective and insight.
The following are the other questions
I posed to Sharon Randall. I think you will find her answers as warm, funny and
thoroughly pleasant to read as I did.
A.H: There are a lot of things to do in Mid-October, what attracted you to
Magna?
S.R: Several things attracted me to your conference, none the least of which was
Kathryn Kennison’s lovely letter of invitation. It was so gracious, I’d have
been hard-pressed to think of a way to decline. But the title alone—Magna cum
Murder Crime Writing Festival—seemed to combine two of my most favorite things:
Having fun, and talk about writing. What’s not to like about that? And, OK, to
be honest, there was Ball State’s basketball reputation. I’d love a chance just
to see the gym.
A.H: Do you enjoy murder mysteries?
Do you have a favorite author or book in the genre? What else do you read, and
what writers do you enjoy?
S.R: I try to read all sorts of writing—fiction, nonfiction, poetry, essays,
newspapers, magazines, billboards, boxtops, the Bible—pretty much anything in
print. But I especially love a good murder mystery. It’s my favorite kind of
book to read in bed or on a beach or in a restaurant, when I’m eating alone and
pretending not to eavesdrop on the people sitting around me. For me, everything
revolves around story and character–books, columns, movies, life—they’re all
about story and character. Tell me a great story, with a voice that resonates
and a language that rolls off the tongue; give me an unlikely hero, and a worthy
villain, and you will have me, start to finish, in the palm of your hand. That’s
the best a writer can hope for. On my long list of favorite reads, ranking very
near the top, are In Cold Blood and Silence of the Lambs. On my long list of
favorite writers, also near the top, are James Lee Burke and Alexander McCall
Smith. I’ve read pretty much every book those two have ever written, and I can
hardly wait to get my hands on the next.
A.H: You write about your family and
your life. Have any of your family or friends been upset with you about putting
them in an article or leaving them out? Do you consider who wants to be
mentioned in print while writing?
S.R: One of the rules I’ve developed over the years in writing a column is that,
if anybody plays the fool, it’s me; everybody else has to end up looking good—as
good, or even better, than they actually are. The joke is invariably on me. I
may poke a little fun at somebody else—usually my husband and children—but I try
never to go farther than I think they’d allow. I don’t ask them, of course, I
just know. There are some things, sore spots, that are clearly off limits, and
if I ever dared to touch them, God help me. I am no fool about that. I’ve been
writing the column since 1991, and so far—to my knowledge—I’ve never gotten in
serious trouble with anybody. And I’m pretty sure they would have told me.
A.H: Have you ever found yourself at
a loss for material to write about? Do you have some columns lying around for
“boring” times?
S.R: Never. The question for me is never what, but which—which piece of life
will I write about today? I’m lucky to have a job that allows me to write about
life and the kinds of things that happen in it. All I have to do is stay alive
and pay attention, and things will just keep happening. Sometimes they’re things
that have happened before, but I see them in a whole new way. If you do that, I
promise, you’ll never run out of “material.” Also, I never write in advance;
always exactly to deadline.
A.H: You share a lot of your life
with your readers. Have you ever been apprehensive about this?
S.R: One great thing about writing is you don’t have to show it to anybody until
you’re ready. You can change it, clean it up, or erase it and start over. I
start over a lot. The delete button on my laptop is worn nearly bare. But what I
have learned is this: If you write with as much honesty as you can muster about
who you are and how you feel, people can be astonishingly forgiving. Because on
the whole, when it comes to matters of the heart, we are all far more alike than
we are different.
A.H: The subject matter of your
column is seemingly much different from crime authors. Do you see any
comparisons between crime novels and your articles?
S.R: Years ago, as a reporter, I sometimes wrote “crime features,” and actually,
I’d have to say that some of those pieces were among the best work I’ve ever
done. But as for the column, about the “crime” I’ve ever written about is the
time my sister almost shot me—yes, with a real, honest-to-god loaded gun–because
I poured a Diet Pepsi down the back of her pants.
A.H: I have read a few of your
columns. My perception of you is a soft hearted but strong willed woman. Do you
think that description fits you? How would you describe yourself?
S.R: I don’t know if your perception of me is entirely accurate, but I’ll take
it, thank you. Actually, I come from a long line of strong-willed, big-hearted
women, so you’ve placed me in good company. I guess if I were to describe
myself, I’d say that I’m a woman who has been blessed to live the life of her
dreams. I get to write a column that is read, I am told, by some six million
people. But I’ve also scrubbed a lot of toilets and burned a lot of cookies.
I’ve spent 25 years as a writer, some 30 years as a wife and a mother, and more
than 50 years as a daughter, a sister and a friend. Life doesn’t get better than
that.
A.H: Your column has followed your
life, and your life has changed since you started writing it. Has your
perception, or what you get out of the column changed over time? How so?
S.R: One perception that has changed for me is my view of humanity. As a
reporter and a “news junkie,” reading the wires every day—a constant barrage of
stories about all the horrific and unspeakable ways we find to hurt one
another—I developed a rather a distorted sense of reality. After years of
writing the column, and hearing from countless readers (many who wrote to say
that they were praying for me and for my children and for their father in his
battle with cancer), I began to realize that my perception had been wrong. There
are far more good people in this world than there are bad. I will never be
cynical again.
******
By the time I emailed Sharon my interview questions, I could not have been
happier about the assignment. The timing was not bad as I had first thought; in
fact, it was nothing short of perfect. Reading her columns gave me perspective
on what I am now facing.