Non-Fiction, Reviews

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara (2018)

As soon as I heard about this book I wanted to read it. It was published in February 2018, and just two months later its subject, the Golden State Killer, was finally captured. His first recorded attack was in 1974, and he had finally been identified and caught. It was a big moment for all involved, to say the least, and I had to know more.

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer is a brilliant mix of reportage and the author’s account of her own experience trying to identify this man. By the end we feel that we know Michelle McNamara as if she had been talking to us the whole time.

The Golden State Killer case was, as the title states, her obsession and it filled her life for several years. In Michelle’s writing as well as the afterword and the section completed by her colleagues, we see that she worked tirelessly to acquire huge amounts of information relevant to the case, however tangentially, and that she was nothing if not thorough in her research. I am in awe of her dedication and attention to detail.

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It becomes clear throughout the book that Michelle’s interest in the case is driven not only by her interest in its subject (and his unknowableness) but also by her sincere desire for his victims to be honoured, and for him to pay for his crimes. She had a deep interest in true crime cases (as documented on her blog True Crime Diary), but this was the one that she devoted the most time to, and the one she will be remembered by. Michelle passed away in 2016, before she could finish I’ll Be Gone in the Dark. 

Luckily, two of Michelle’s colleagues in her investigation were able to go through her files and write a concluding section for the book. This section, Part Three, is therefore lacking Michelle’s engaging writing style, and her personal touch, but it in still incredibly detailed and demonstrates the level of work that went into this amateur investigation – and how closely it ran alongside and often intersected with the official police work. Michelle was often in touch with several investigators and shared evidence with them, working together to solve this mammoth case.

It is heartbreaking to know that Michelle did not live to see the case solved; but it is gratifying to know that her dedication and incredible hard work obviously contributed to it being solved. In Part Three, Michelle’s colleagues discuss how she and other investigators (both professional and amateur) were using the killer’s DNA profile to look for matches on genealogy websites such as Ancestry and 23andMe. We now know that this exact method, looking up possible matches to his DNA and then following the family tree to a possible suspect, was successfully used on the website GEDMatch to identify the man who had been haunting California for 44 years. After reading I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, it is even more amazing to learn this, and to see the coverage of the arrest, and the court dates so far, and to learn more about this man. Plenty of people involved in or connected with the case are sharing their stories, and you can feel the relief – and how angry they still are. Even if a killer is captured, the anger and sadness don’t necessarily go away.

I would honestly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in true crime, but also anyone who likes thrillers and crime fiction. Michelle McNamara’s writing and storytelling is as gripping and engaging as the best thriller and crime fiction writers. I read her book in four days and wish she would have been able to write more.

Now that the Golden State Killer (aka the East Area Rapist or the Original Night Stalker) has been identified and caught, I’ll Be Gone in the Dark is a more redemptive story than it would have been otherwise. Even though he is older now, in his 70s, wearing a prison jumpsuit, behind bars or in handcuffs, it is still terrifying to look into the eyes of Joseph James DeAngelo and remember all the terrible things he has done. Reading this book, you realise the darkness that can live inside people, that pain and fear can be twisted into motivation to attack, to rape, bludgeon, and kill. It is hard to think about. For while we are fascinated and gripped by I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, we must remember the pain he caused, and the suffering of these people. Michelle McNamara helped to solve the puzzle that lead to his capture, and for that we are all grateful.

*

Published in 2018 by Harper and Faber & Faber. I read the F&F paperback edition, pictured above.

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Fiction, Reviews

‘Alias Grace’ and the Concept of the Fallen Woman

Any reader of Victorian literature, or any student of the history of the period, will be aware of the concept of the fallen woman. If not, the Wikipedia page is a good place to start. It’s a depressingly detailed page. For an era in which society began to move away from the government of Christianity (thank you Darwin and your fellow evolutionists!), the 19th century was one that made a national phenomenon out of the concept of a woman fallen from God’s Grace.

Grace Marks, the protagonist of Alias Grace, was a real person. In 1843 she was convicted of murdering her employer, Mr Kinnear, and suspected of the murder of his housekeeper, Nancy Montgomery. This brought her to the public attention, and eventually, to that of Margaret Atwood. Alias Grace is a fictional account of Grace’s life, the murders, and her time in prison afterwards. Her supposed accomplice is James McDermott, who also worked for Mr Kinnear. He was hanged, but she was spared that sentence at the last moment, and sent to prison. She became a momentary celebrity, with the trial being covered widely in the media.

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The frame of the novel consists of meetings, in prison, between Grace and Dr Simon Jordan. He is interested in criminal behaviour and mental health, and aspires to open his own modern asylum with progressive treatments. He meets with Grace and asks her about the murders; during her trial she stated that she could not remember most of what happened, and Dr Jordan spends a lot of his time trying to get her to remember. Even though large sections of the book are narrated by Grace, we are never quite sure exactly how much she does or does not remember. Grace is an unreliable narrator, but so is Margaret Atwood.

One of the things Dr Jordan wants Grace to speak about is the relationship between her and McDermott. In the papers at the time of the trial it is claimed that she is his ‘paramour’, implying they are lovers. This incriminates Grace further by implying she colluded with McDermott entirely, and that they had the same aims. Grace’s version is that they were not lovers, that she did not like him, and that he killed both Kinnear and Nancy. She was there at the time, and tried to convince him not to do it; that was all. During the trial the media, as well as the members of the court, are frankly obsessed by the question of whether or not Grace and McDermott were lovers, and so is Dr Jordan. This is partly to establish their relationship, and how this played a part in the murders; but it also because of the desire for scandal and sensationalism. If it was proved that Grace has slept with McDermott, she would be even more guilty. Even if proved innocent she would still be guilty of premarital sex, and would still be judged by society.

Her apparent lack of memory makes her something of an enigma during the trial, and indeed she is still very enigmatic with Dr Jordan – even in her first person narrative. People want to understand her, to understand the mind of a person who has committed a crime, and they are obsessed with her virtue. She must either be innocent and therefore ‘pure’ and ‘good’ as a woman should be; or she should be guilty and therefore prove the weakness and inherent sin of woman, and be ‘fallen’. Society condemns her to be one or the other, and in my opinion she is somewhere in between, like most people. As with our modern treatment of female murderers, Grace is demonised so much partly because she is a woman, and we find it harder to believe that women can be as evil as men. As soon as they show any sign of wrongdoing, in any way, we are very quick to demonise them. Look at the media portrayals of female murderers, such as Aileen Wournos or Myra Hindley, or even those of non-criminals that are perceived as doing something wrong, such as Theresa May or Katie Hopkins. These women may do things we don’t like (or that are monstrous in case of the two former), but they are always treated differently to men who do similar things. How could a woman kill another person, or a child? How could a woman be tough or vitriolic?

The duality of ‘pure vs fallen’ still exists today, even without the explicitly religious context. In the eyes of the public, and of Dr Jordan, Grace must be one or the other, and there is little room for complexity in her character. The Victorian ignorance of the human psyche is frustrating, but the demonisation of women is infuriating. Mental illness is also demonised to some extent, and as the novel goes on it seems that this may affect Grace too. I’m not going to write about what happens at the end of the novel for those who haven’t read it, but the duality is very clear there as well. Grace must be either an angel or a demon, and nothing in between. Women must be either the angel in the house, or the demon in the asylum.

For anyone to be equal, they should be allowed to show their complexity and humanity rather than conform to a stereotype. Grace is trapped within hers, and it affects her whole life. If she had been a man she would either have been hanged with McDermott, or sent to prison forever and forgotten about. Dr Jordan is so fascinated with her partly because of the ambiguity over her guilt, and also because she is a woman in her particular situation. We are never quite sure whether she is guilty or not, and in some ways that was the right choice on the part of Atwood; how can we ever know the reality of another person, or what really happened? How can we ever know if a person is good or evil – or indeed if it’s possible to just be one or the other?

*

Alias Grace was first published in Canada and the UK in 1996 by McLelland & Stewart, and Bloomsbury Publishing. I read the 2001 Virago paperback edition (pictured above).

Purchase from Foyles here.

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Fiction, Reviews

“Defiantly alive…” Water Music by Margie Orford

I’ve decided I officially like crime fiction. I kept hearing about great crime writers and felt genuinely interested when I read synopses and blurbs – so I dived in. I read Snow White Must Die by Nele Neuhaus (review here) and loved it. More please!

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2014 Head of Zeus paperback cover (image: goodreads.com)

I heard about Water Music when publisher Head of Zeus announced their upcoming titles for 2014. I scanned the catalogue and it was the title that jumped out at me the most. Crime was on my radar, and I liked that it was set in South Africa – a country I’ve never been to and don’t know much about, but one that has featured in a couple of books I quite liked, and seemed intriguing. So different from Britain, a bit exotic, mysterious, and, well, gritty.

A lot of Water Music is gritty. Dr Clare Hart (the central character of five Margie Orford novels, including this one) is an expert of crimes committed against children and is called in to advise on a very young girl found naked and freezing in the woods; and then when a teenage girl goes missing. The little girl is malnourished and so pale she could hardly have seen daylight – she is wrapped in layers of mystery and questions, and she sets in motion a dramatic and trying week for Clare Hart.

The teenage girl, Rosa, is reported missing by her grandfather, with whom she lives, and Clare takes on the case out of her own concern and sympathy for both the girl and the grandfather. Her department is under threat and she is targeted for not being a police officer, only a civilian, getting involved in police business; but Clare is a specialist, an expert with sharp instincts and deep feeling for the persecuted victim.

Her own story comes slowly to light throughout the book, as does her relationship with an officer, Reidwaan Faizal, who is a fascinating, dark character. Early in the book she finds out that she is pregnant, and she battles this issue, alone, as she tries to discover the truth of what happened to these two poor girls.

I loved the twists and turns of this book, the truly unknowable nature of the next chapter. Orford surprised me on almost every page, with short sharp chapters driving the pace and building the tension. Clare is relentless is her pursuit of the truth, and unwaveringly brave in the face of danger as she delves deeper into the underside of Cape Town. As I read I could not guess what had happened, how this little girl had been left alone under some plastic, tethered to a tree; how Rosa went missing three weeks ago and no one has noticed until now. Who was really involved? Who knows more than they are telling? And what do they know? Why are they keeping secrets? My mind was spinning with questions and I read on compulsively.

This is the first Margie Orford novel I’ve read and I will definitely look into her previous novels. Her plotting is excellent, and her writing is both engaging, moving and atmospheric, conveying the feelings of the characters and the grim realities of the situations so vividly. I felt uncomfortable and scared with Clare, and desperate with her when she is grasping for clues and fighting to get to the hidden truths.

Read this book!

*

First published in South Africa in 2013 by Jonathan Ball Publishers, and in the UK by Head of Zeus on 27th February 2014. My copy was kindly provided by Head of Zeus for review.

A section of this review was printed in The Bookseller on 21st February 2014.

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