Once you got behind the glamour of their celebrity, Zandt knew that serial killers were not the way they were portrayed in the movie: charming geniuses, slick with evil, charismatic crusaders of a bloody art. They were more like drunkards or the slightly mad. Impossible to talk to, or to get sense out of, sealed off from the world behind a viewpoint that could never be expressed or made accessible to those who lived outside it.
Michael Marshall Smith knows something about movies, having worked as a scriptwriter, and it shows in his first commercial thriller, written after the success of his science-fiction books ‘Only Forward’ and ‘Spares’. You can see this in the use of multiple point-of-view narration, the way he constructs his scenes, in particular the prologue of a mass shooting inside a fast food restaurant that seems a takeout from a Quentin Tarrantino movie.
But the purpose here in not to cast a glamour over the subject of serial killers for cheap thrills and entertainment, but to seriously consider where do they come from and why is our modern society so fascinated by the subject. This is where Mr. Smith’s other training, at Cambridge in the subjects of Philosophy, Social and Political Studies comes in handy because with ‘Straw Men’ you actually get two books for the price of one:
- a conventional high-octane criminal thriller about the hunt for a serial killer, with the requisite mix of mystery, danger and a couple of world wide conspiracy theories and,
- an essay on the subject of criminal mentality, with examples of past cases and debates about nature vs. nurture in deviant behaviour, including the role of media and of economic or political influences.
The combination is generally successful due to the clear prose and obvious talent of the author in creating a complex plot, a multi-layered story. Given the nature of the plot, I believe it’s best to say as little as possible about the characters and the social implications. Briefly, an elderly couple dies in a car accident as they return from a party, and their son returns home to find clues that not everything is as clear cut as the police claims. He starts to investigate the past of his parents based on a home video they have left behind and a couple of cryptic messages.
Elsewhere, an FBI agent requires the help of a burnout ex-cop in tracking down an elusive serial killer that kidnaps young girls from very public places.
The two main stories eventually converge somewhere in Montana where a secretive group of uber-wealthy people have build a fortified compound of expensive villas for themselves.
The novel comes a bit short in my personal rating only because I inevitably compared it with “Only Forward” , one of my top reads last year. The switch between first- and third-person narration wasn’t as smooth as I hoped, and the inclusion of the essays about criminal behaviour slowed down the pace. The thriller part was intriguing enough to carry me forward though, and I liked the inclusion of architecture as a function of social and psychological development, with special notice of the work of Frank Lloyd Wright.
Also captivating, in a slightly bittersweet trip down memory lane, is the role early internet research plays in the plot, the days of 55k modem lines and flashy Netscape pages, rudimentary photo editing and digital transfers of analogue video.
Like many Hollywood inspired serial killer stories, this one ends not only in an explosive, spectacular fashion but also in an ambiguous, open-ended way. I might consider reading the sequels, even as the first one can be read as a stand-alone.
I hope it is our future and not our past, that makes the decisions.