The next stop in my time travel marathon (November being Science Fiction Month) was The Shining Girls, a 2013 thriller by Lauren Beukes. Here's a novel I did not cotton to at all through 80 pages. It's written in present tense. It's fragmented, with a few chapters no longer than four pages. The narrative unfolds from at least four different recurring points of view and over ten total. It's a puzzle that fits together at odd angles. It was not going to be my cup of tea. That's what I thought.
The time bending begins in 1974, with a gimp footed creeper named Harper Curtis approaching a little girl named Kirby Mazrachi on a playground. Harper isn't here to hurt the girl, not yet. He seeks to make a memorable impression, but upsets Kirby nonetheless. Before leaving, Harper gives her something, a plastic toy horse. Jumping back to 1931, Harper is chased through a hobo camp for slicing open a man's neck in a card game. He meets a blind woman who has been told to expect him. The blind woman offers Harper a coat. Inside the coat, Harper finds a key to a tenement house, a very special house, on Chicago's west side.
By 1984, a 15-year-old Kirby, raised in Chicago by a free-spirited single mother, is fumbling through her first sexual experience. Across town, the man she met in the playground has disemboweled a 21-year-old economics student. Among the items found on her is a cassette tape featuring Janis Joplin. At the time, no one thinks anything of it. Harper has discovered that the tenement house has an ability to transport him to different eras in Chicago when he concentrates on a different girl, a special girl, a "shining girl", who is destined to fall under his knife. In a bedroom upstairs, personal effects from each of these girls fade in and out of time: a baseball card from 1947, a cassette tape from 1972, a tennis ball from 1989.
In one of the more harrowing scenes I've encountered in a novel, Kirby crosses paths with Harper again in 1989 while walking her dog in a bird sanctuary. She's not expected to live more than a week after she's discovered, but does, and goes on to intern at the Chicago Sun-Times. Kirby chooses to mentor under 46-year-old Dan Velasquez, a divorced sportswriter who still has contacts in the police through his work on the crime beat. The brutality and unsolved nature of Kirby's attack prompted him to look for a new line, but Kirby is not satisfied that her attack was random and begins digging into other unsolved stabbings in the Chicago area.
The most bizarre detail of Kirby's attack is that the killer tossed a vintage cigarette lighter at her as he fled. Researching stabbings in which strange artifacts were left at the scene, Kirby uncovers a murder in 1942 in which one of the victim's aging children swears a Jackie Robinson baseball card was found on their mother. Robinson didn't join the Brooklyn Dodgers until 1947, a fact that Dan easily verifies. Dubbing their suspect The Vintage Killer, Kirby ultimately draws an association between her attack in 1989 and the man she met in the playground in 1976. Digging through her old toys, she finds the plastic horse he left behind and a manufacture date on the object: 1982.
The Shining Girls is the best novel of its kind that I've read since Let the Right One In. It's not only terrifying at turns, but staggered my imagination. The idea of a serial killer traveling through time certainly isn't new; it served as the basis for one of the best time travel movies ever made, Time After Time in 1979. What Beukes does is speculate that if the future of the victims has already been determined, the fate of their killer has been as well. To stop him, it's up to the protagonists to piece together what's going on and what their role should be in ending it.
The narrative becomes a puzzle for Kirby & Dan to piece together, and the author imbues them with a depth and passion I found similar to Oskar & Eli in Let the Right One In. Beukes overcame my unease with present tense and her preference for "telling instead of showing" by telling me about characters who were full of life, vulnerable as they were, well, weird. Like John Ajvide Lindqvist did, dispersing nostalgia throughout her thriller pays off for Beukes:
"You want to watch a video?" she says. So they do. And they end up fumbling around on the couch, kissing for an hour and a half, while Matthew Broderick saves the world on his computer. They don't even notice when the tape runs out and the screen turns to bristling static, because his fingers are inside her and his mouth his hot against her skin. And she climbs on top of him and it hurts, which she expected, and it's nice, which she'd hoped, but it's not world-changing, and afterwards they a kiss a lot and smoke the rest of the cigarette, and he coughs and say: "That wasn't how I thought it would be."
Neither is being murdered.
Beukes writes in an almost graphic novel style that left me wanting through the first 80 pages. I didn't want to be told that Harper fled from a saloon fight, I wanted to see it on the page. The Shining Girls is more work than that. If I'd taken a week to read this, I might have been immune to the virus Beukes introduces. Reading it over the course of Thanksgiving Day, I plowed through without protective measures, gave myself over to the fever and saw things I typically don't in a novel. For example, the fragmented nature gives voices to each of the murdered women. We're invested in their lives and believe that if Kirby survived her attack, maybe they will too.
No punches are pulled in the novel. The violence is harrowing and the suspense is gut wrenching. I would not recommend this to anyone easily upset. But as Tana French points out in her cover blurb, as scary as the book is, it's also "utterly original" and "beautifully written". The experience Kirby has smoking pot with her mother for the first time or the loneliness of a transsexual stripper in 1940 are as vivid and moving as the lyrics a Tom Waits song. I think that a book whose antagonist is a time tripping murderer of women, both extremes should be there, the ugly and the beautiful. Cutting the rougher edged stuff would've been dishonest to the human experience.
In the acknowledgements, Beukes credits "a crack team of researchers" and names no fewer than thirty experts she sought for historical data or that the South African author approached for information on Chicago. "Dedicated" doesn't begin to describe Beukes' commitment that her story feel as real as possible and she bats this one right out of Wrigley Field. I'll be adding more novels by Beukes to my reading list posthaste.