As British comedy duo the Two Ronnies might have said: ‘I am disappointed. He is bewildered’.

Some keen readers might have been surprised that a crime novel won the 2010 Miles Franklin Award for outstanding Australian writing. There is a school of thought that assigns crime novels to the pop fiction category, the realm of genre writing or the literary trash bin. Readers free of such prejudices however, are likely to enjoy quality crime writing just as they appreciate fiction about any subject matter. Authors who decide to present readers with a mystery to solve do not necessarily abandon their ambitions to write well. Indeed, in some respects, the mystery writer must exercise great care when presenting material to a critical readership. Readers of crime novels are sensitive about being patronised and quickly identify and reject writers whose sleuths are obtuse. The demands on a mystery writer are quite serious. Unfortunately, for some strange reason, a few established authors have lately chosen paths that render their works very disappointing. In a particularly annoying development, some writers have attempted to mix first and third person styles and the results are disastrous.

While discussion of grammatical rules is hardly a popular pursuit these days, most readers realise that use of first person makes the narrator a character in the story. A parallel in non-fiction is the style of autobiography rather than biography. Some crime writers use first person perfectly well. ‘I’ features in the first sentences of many of the Cliff Hardy stories by Peter Corris. James Lee Burke’s Louisiana cop Dave Robicheaux is a compelling character, and much of the strength of the Robicheaux series arises from the way that readers share the character’s innermost thoughts and dilemmas. As the narrator is identified as a character, the reader enters the story in a very intimate way. Despite knowing that a narrator must survive his or her adventures, the reader associates with the human frailties of the authorial ‘I’.

Other authors write brilliantly in third person. Among the best are some British writers of the police procedural. These include Ian Rankin, creator of Edinburgh’s Inspector Rebus, Barry Maitland who guides the adventures of English cops Brock and Kolla and P.D. James, whose Dalgleish series is paced so perfectly. The same could be said of Garry Disher who breathes life into D.I. Challis south of Melbourne and for Andrea Camilleri, creator of the Sicilian Salvo Montalbano and for Donna Leon whose Venetian cop Guido Brunetti is a superb character.

The best writers keep on improving. The second novels of lesser authors leave the reader with the impression that publishers – like most business people really – push a saleable item beyond its real value. So a strong second novel is a sign that an author has considerable talent. One Australian crime writer Jarad Henry, wrote his first novel Head Shot in third person, then switched to first person and a new publisher for the sequel. Happily, the switch was successful and Blood Sunset is very readable. Protagonist DS Rubens McCauley of St Kilda police became a much more credible character telling his own story.

While a switch of the kind made by Henry is a gamble, it is tolerable in separate works. Mixing first and third person in one novel however, is of questionable value. Peter Klein created a very interesting character known simply as ‘Punter’ because that is the way he makes his living. The son of a horse trainer, Punter introduces the reader to the world of the Melbourne racetrack, racing stables, thoroughbred syndicates and gambling. Told in first person, Punter’s Turf is very enjoyable, but then in Silk Chaser, Klein for some reason introduces bursts of thought from a serial killer. This psychological thriller melange seems to borrow televisual techniques that aim to scare viewers with images of the perpetrator as a shadowy, pixilated face, whose raspy voice is disguised and set in droning background music. While some readers might enjoy this technique others will find it patronising. Rather than building suspense it undermines the investigative efforts of the protagonist and inhibits the reader’s entry into the author’s world.

Leigh Redhead’s Simone Kirsch tells her stories in first person. For some reason however, her latest novel Thrill City has a third person ‘Prologue’. There should be a warning on the cover of this book, not about the strong language used by the St Kilda stripper/ P.I. but about superfluous material that will offend the intelligence of the discerning reader. At least a prologue is over and done with quickly.

Australians are not the only offenders. Sue Grafton, creator of Kinsey Milhone, usually concludes each case with a report and account submitted humbly by the California P.I. to her clients. Her first person accounts had me hooked from the beginning of her alphabetical series with A is for Alibi through T is for Trespass. Then, mysteriously at U is for Undertow Grafton decided to use the dreaded hybridisation. The final accounting to client and reader had to go.
Laurie R. King dared to resurrect Sherlock Holmes for her series narrated by Mary Russell. Indeed, she had the audacity to make the much younger Russell Holmes’ wife and his equal in courage, intelligence and intuition. For nine novels, King managed the delicate balancing act of unravelling mysteries as they are revealed to Russell. Then in the tenth, some other narrator intrudes in occasional chapters.

In most of these novels, it is doubtful whether the third person intrusions add anything to the narrative. Eventually, the first person protagonist has to learn enough facts to solve the mystery. Why the writers choose to destroy the close connection they have worked so hard to make between their sleuths and their readers is difficult to understand. It is almost as though some evil spirit has invaded the book without the author’s knowledge – well, almost.
One effect of this strange mixture of voices is that the reader’s private space is threatened, if not completely destroyed. As an element of popular culture, the mystery genre is often quick to pick up on looming trends. Perhaps crime writers are sending a coded warning about the future of reading. Readers have rejected the notion of advertisements within their texts. It is possible to blank out advertising in a print run but not perhaps in an e-book. Advertisements can be inserted as little blinks.

If that explanation is too bizarre, then the alternative is unflattering to the writers concerned. It requires great skill to let a story unfold as a participant with a limited view gradually comes to understand it. Mixing first and third person techniques seems a lazy compromise. As Laurie R. King says in her tenth novel, The God of the Hive, (p.28)

‘Ah well. That was what one got from depending on elaborate plots with many moving parts. It had all been far too beautiful, too gorgeously complex and inexorable.... From here on out, he would abandon the complex and keep things simple, and brutal’.

It’s a simple good night from me. And it’s a brutal good night from him.