CURRENTLY IN BOOKS: Murder most foul

Kenneth L. Gibble

Not everyone enjoys reading murder mysteries. I do--and I'm not alone. Detective fiction accounts for a major share of today's book market.

Why do so many of us get such enjoyment from tales of mayhem and murder? Do readers of whodunits have a morbid curiosity about death? Do we harbour a subconscious desire to commit murder ourselves?

To get some help with this question, I talked with some people who also enjoy reading these stories. The first reason nearly everyone gave for reading murder mysteries is that they provide a means of escape, the enjoyment of trying to solve the puzzle. Who did it? How? Why? How will the detective solve the mystery? (I'm not very good at it--I usually end up picking the wrong culprit--but it's fun trying.)

However, I believe the main reason for the popularity of these books is their code of justice, the old cliche that crime doesn't pay. When we pick up a murder mystery, we know that wrongdoing will be punished because the world of the detective novel is a moral, well-ordered world. Good overcomes evil.

The reason this is appealing is that life so often isn't that way. In the back alleys of our cities, monstrous crimes are committed that do not get solved. In the corridors of corporate control and political power, dishonest deals are made that never come to light. In the world as we know it, evil flourishes. On the level of human reckoning, at least, crime frequently does pay its perpetrators very well.

No wonder, then, that some of us turn with relief to the pages of a murder mystery. Here the universe is reduced to understandable and manageable size. Though it may appear that the perfect murder has been committed, we know the truth will out. Here, to use the biblical phrase, nothing is hidden except to be disclosed, nor is anything secret except to come to light (Mark 4:22).

My own reading of these books as a grownup was rather sporadic until about ten years ago. During an interview with Madeleine L'Engle, a well-known Christian writer of books for children and adults, I asked what books she enjoyed reading. Among others, she mentioned the murder mysteries of Dick Francis, adding, "I think you'll enjoy him. As one of my friends said about his novels . . . such goodness!"

Up to that time, it had never occurred to me to think of "goodness" in connection with detective novels. What less likely place to look for "goodness" than in a story about murder?

After all, murder is the primal crime, the universal taboo. In a sense, every murder mystery retells the tale of the fall. Notes David Lehman: "The (detective) story's original crime . . . becomes a secular version of original sin. Guilt . . . is a foregone conclusion, and the drama concerns the possibilities of absolution and redemption."

In the book of Genesis, there is an ancient story about one brother murdering another. When Cain kills Abel, it is no mere domestic dispute, a family argument that suddenly turns violent. It is premeditated, cold-blooded murder. The story does not dwell on the details of the crime; no mention is made of the murder weapon if there was one. Very quickly the story moves on to introduce us to the Detective who will solve the crime.

Then the Lord said to Cain, "Where is your brother Abel?" He said, "I don't know. Am I my brother's keeper?" The Lord said, "What have you done? Listen! Your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground" (Genesis 4:9-10).

The Lord is Divine Detective, Jury and Judge all rolled into one. He solves the crime, apprehends the murderer, renders a verdict of guilty and passes sentence.

Naturally I recoil from the sight of Cain slaying his brother. I may even say to myself, "Now that is something I would never do. I'm not a murderer." But if I am honest, underneath this easy declaration lies a nagging, unspoken question. Am I absolutely certain I would not, could not, take another's life?

No, I am not certain. Whether I like to admit it or not, I am capable of murder. So are you. In this sense, at least, both the story in Genesis and the modern detective novel are true to life. They make us face the sinfulness that is part of our human condition.

There is another sense in which these stories ring true. For the story of Cain does not end in judgement and punishment. There is also a strange grace in the story--a mercy, though it is a severe mercy. The Lord puts a mark on Cain that will prevent anyone who sees him from killing him. Cain's life is preserved, but he will carry the mark of his crime with him. What's done cannot be undone. Cain cannot go home again. He is sentenced to be a wanderer for the rest of his life. But Cain is safe in God's protection. He has been given back his life by a gracious God.

If it's not exactly a happy ending; neither is it hopelessly tragic. Books we call murder mysteries are mysteries not only because they present a puzzle to be solved. They are mysteries as well because who can fathom this puzzle, this mystery that is the life God gives us? Our lives are always a perplexing mixture of happiness and sadness, good and bad, tragedy and comedy. Why it must be so, we cannot know or say. But we can say this--that at times, by the grace of God, we catch a glimpse of a divine design at work. It's a design fashioned by a hand that holds us fast in unfailing love. We are pursued by One from whom no secrets are hid and yet One from whom no sin is terrible enough to leave us lost and alone and unloved.

In that faith I rest my hope, when, late at night, I turn the final page of the latest mystery novel that has kept me up too late, turn out the light and shuffle off to bed. There, I pull the covers up to my chin and breathe into the darkness a prayer I learned long ago: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. . . . "

Kenneth L. Gibble is a freelance writer from Chambersburg, PA.