In Life I Know There’s Lots of Grief*

A lot of crime fiction is about untimely deaths, often murder. So it shouldn’t be surprising that grief is also a part of crime fiction. In fact, there are plenty of crime novels in which someone is suspected because that person didn’t seem to be ‘upset enough.’ The thing is, though, that we all handle grief differently. There’s not one way to get through a loss. Another thing is that grief is a process, and it seldom follows a straight path, if I can put it that way. If you read enough crime fiction, you find that grief itself is probably universal, but the process of grieving varies, sometimes a lot.

In Agatha Christie’s The Hollow, for instance, Harley Street specialist John Christow is murdered during a weekend visit with Sir Henry and Lady Lucy Angkatell. Hercule Poirot has taken a cottage nearby, and he’s invited for lunch on the day of the murder. When he arrives, he finds Christow’s body lying by the pool, and someone holding a gun – the obvious killer. It’s not so obvious, though, and Poirot and Inspector Grange have to look carefully among the suspects to see who’s guilty. One of those suspects is Christow’s mistress, sculptor Henrietta Savernake. She did love Christow in her way, but she doesn’t grieve his loss as you might expect, with tears and emotional distress. Here’s what she says about it:

‘I should like to grieve for John…’
‘I cannot grieve for my dead…
Instead I must take my grief and make it into a figure of alabaster…
“Exhibit N. 58 Grief, Alabaster. Miss Henrietta Savernake.”

Henrietta expresses in art what she cannot express in other ways.

Caroline Graham’s A Ghost in the Machine is the story of the murder of financial advisor Dennis Brinkley. His friend Benny Frayle discovers Brinkley’s body when she stops over for a visit. At first, it looks as though it was a tragic freak accident. But Benny is certain that Dennis was murdered. So, she goes to Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby to try to get him to investigate. Barnaby looks through all of the material related to the case and can’t find anything amiss. He believes that the police have done a thorough, professional job. Then, there’s another death, and this time, it’s clearly murder. Now, Barnaby takes Benny Frayle’s assertion seriously and looks at both cases. Meanwhile, Benny is coping with her grief as well as trying to find out the truth about her friend’s death. So, she goes to a séance led by self-styled medium Ava Garret. During the séance, Ava says things about the murder scene that she couldn’t possibly have known, so Benny is thoroughly convinced that Ava can communicate with the dead, and that Dennis Brinkley was murdered. It’s unconventional, but that’s how Benny faces her sense of loss.

We also see some spiritualism in Peter James’ Superintendent Roy Grace series. Grace experiences a different sort of grief. His wife Sandy went missing, and there’s been no sign of her: not even a body. He refuses to let go of the fact that she could be alive and uses his police access to see if he can locate her. It’s not successful, so he has also turned to a medium for help. He’s not the only one, either. There are plenty of grief-stricken people who’ve done the same. Readers of the series will know that, as it goes on, we learn more of the truth about Sandy.

Gail Bowen’s Joanne Kilbourn Shreve is all too familiar with grief. She’s a Saskatchewan-based academic and political scientist whose first husband Ian was murdered. Throughout the series, we see her processing her grief at his loss. We also see how she grows and moves along in life, although the loss is always there. In the first novel in the series, Deadly Appearances, we see her process a different sort of loss. She’s attending a community barbecue where her friend and rising political star, Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk, is to give an important speech. He’s no sooner started, though, when he collapses and dies of what turns out to be poison. As a way of coping with her grief, Joanne decides to write his biography. As she starts to gather the information she’ll need, she learns a lot about Andy. And she learns why he died and who’s responsible. In that way, her grief leads her to answers.

Anthony Bidulka’s Going to Beautiful introduces celebrity chef Jake Hardy. He seems to have it all until his beloved husband Eddie dies of a fall from the balcony of their posh Toronto condominium. Soon enough, it’s determined that Eddie was murdered, and Jake comes in for his share of suspicion. The police clear his name, but he is in a state of real grief. In part to face that grief, he decides to visit Eddie’s hometown of Beautiful, Saskatchewan. He and his friend Baz travel to Beautiful, where they meet Eddie’s family and the people he knew growing up. In the process of getting to know everyone, Jake begins to accept what happened and start to deal with his grief. It’s the beginning of the healing process for him. It also gives him answers about Eddie’s death.

It’s hard to think about it, but grief is a natural part of life as we lose friends and loved ones. While it’s just about universal, everyone experiences it differently. Little wonder it shows itself in different ways in crime fiction.

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Bob Marley’s Waiting in Vain.

 


12 thoughts on “In Life I Know There’s Lots of Grief*

  1. Very interesting Margot! There are definitely expectations of the proper way to grieve, and not doing what is considered proper is definitely very suspicious. I suppose that Camus’ The Stranger takes that to the extreme!!

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    1. Thank you, KBR. It is interesting how people think grief ‘should’ look, and what’s said about those who don’t ‘grieve properly.’ Of course the reality is there is no ‘proper’ way to grieve. And yes, The Stranger shows that starkly!!

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    1. That’s a fascinating point, Carol. Some people do find comfort in crime novels when they’re grieving. Perhaps it allows them to get closer to that pain in a way that they can process more easily. That’s good ‘food for thought,’ so thanks.

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  2. As you know, I’m not a huge fan of grief as an element in crime novels, though of course it must be there in some way. But I prefer when the author leaves most of the grieving ‘off-stage’, so to speak, since I mostly want to be entertained when reading crime fiction. In general, I think the Golden Agers handled grief better than modern authors in terms of entertainment, though modern authors probably show it more realistically. There can be too much realism in fiction… 😉

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    1. You make an interesting point, FictionFan. Today’s crime novels do seem to explore grief in a more detailed, ‘on-stage’ way than they did in GA times. You know who’s grieving and why in a GA novel, but you’re not as privy to all the details. You’re not the only reader who prefers it that way, either. I think there are plenty of people who would prefer to use their own imaginations when it comes to grieving or for the matter of that, other things like explicitness. As you say, grief has to be there, because it wouldn’t be a believable murder mystery otherwise. But every realistic detail? That’s perhaps a different question.

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  3. Oddly enough the two crime books I’ve read this month both include the grief experienced, which is a bit unusual as it’s usually off the page. Neither of them overdid it though. In one, A Death in the Parish by Richard Coles, the family’s grief was tangible but I thought it was dealt with sensitively. In the second, Lending a Paw by Laurie Cass, it was less to the fore but the author had her main character think about the dead man a lot and how much she liked him, but others did not. I liked both these approaches and prefer it to the ‘everyone hated this person so no one cares he/she is dead’ scenario. Sometimes it’s hard to disagree but a tiny part of me always whispers, ‘Well someone must’ve cared.’ Very interesting topic, Margot.

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    1. Thanks, Cath. And thanks for sharing those books. You make a good point that for most fictional victims, somebody cared. For at least one person, the death is a loss, and it makes a story more believable if the author shows that. As your comment shows, though, in both these cases, the grief isn’t overdone so as to overwhelm the plot (or the reader’s emotions).

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