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16,000 Suspects: A Ragbrai Mystery
Christian, Rebecca
192 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 1999
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
March 19, 2020
I take particular pleasure in excoriating this dreadful, childish packet of words, the worst mystery I have every read and will ever read. I have a special relationship to the story: it’s set on the cross-Iowa bike tour called RAGBRAI, a tour I have done thirty times. Also, because of my love for this sort of bike event, I wrote my own RAGBRAI mystery novel. It may never see the light of day, but it is an infinitely brighter star than this black-hole of concatenated words.
To be fair, expectations should be low. The book was a fundraiser, commissioned of seventeen writers—few of whom could write ‘class cancelled’ on a white board (though several are college instructors in writing.) Each ‘writer’ wrote one chapter. Obviously, seventeen different voices can’t make a cohesive story.
In case the reader hadn’t considered this, the book begins with a foreword, longer than a chapter, describing in great glee what a terrific book this is, how diligent and clever the authors were, how thorough and expert the editor. It explains that ‘early on, a group of writers suggested . . . agreement as to how the book would end, whodunit and why.’ So, up until that point it was assumed that a clever mystery would issue from seventeen unconnected chapters?
This, I believe, was the point where I realized that this book is hilarious, in the way truly terrible movies become funny. Stupid scenes, wooden characters, pointless repetition, all combine to make this a tour-de-force in the art of failure.
Next up, after the foreword, is a long page of disclaimer, the gist of which is, Iowa is a lovely place with wonderful people and no bad things could really happen there, especially on the bike ride, and this is just fiction so don’t be scared. Also, ‘The Des Moines Register [sponsor of RAGBRAI] not only supported the writers, but placed few restrictions on the writing.’ Sweet. If I ever write a book set in Cleveland, I hope the Cleveland city council will place few restrictions on my writing.
What’s the worst way a mystery could start? Ha! No. Think worse. I have to tell you; you’ll never guess. The first chapter is set ten years in the future. Chapter one explains how there was a murder ten years ago but it was solved and this is just an anomaly, Iowa is a lovely place where no bad things happen. From chapter one: ‘the story came with a cliffhanger of an ending, one so stunning some reporters wondered among themselves if the State Patrol was faking it. The Patrol made a dramatic arrest of their chief suspect that was followed immediately by a heartfelt confession. And that let people go home with a sense of closure to a crazy week in their lives, one they will never, ever forget.’ These words were written by Iowa Boy, Chuck Offenburger, Writer-in-Residence at an Iowa university. Oh, man. Aside from the idiocy of telling us, in the first chapter, how a mystery ends, the sentences are amateurish. This is the point where the ‘editor’ begins to regret allowing her name to appear.
This hilarious farce continues. People who claim to be writers and writing instructors rely on clichés, make their characters of single-layer cardboard, write as though they were seven. The plot, wherever it surfaces, is contrived, ridiculous, and not taken seriously by the characters. The cops investigate a murder by assigning one cop to ride his bike among the thousands of other bikers. This is like investigating a murder in a stadium by assigning a cop to watch the next home game. Gee, I hope the murderer turns out to be in the seat next to his. Huh, in this case, that’s what happens.
The writers don’t even know Iowa, or the bike ride. One character mellows to the sound of crickets and locusts. Locusts? Perhaps she meant cicadas, an actual noise-making midwestern insect that doesn’t destroy cropland or create famine. RAGBRAI is an amazing spectacle, a river of bikes that covers a rural highway from shoulder to shoulder for sixty miles per day, eating and drinking its way across the state like a state fair on wheels. [The previous sentence may eclipse the sum-total of all RAGBRAI description in the book.] See RAGBRAI.com.
The writers head-hop, switch tenses, and always, always, always lapse into Chamber-of-Commerce description: the 1890 reformed church is renowned for its gothic bell tower and frescoes of Peter and Paul. In one chapter, the nearest thing to a protagonist muses whether he might have committed the crime. Huh? He’s not sure?
The last chapter comes from a writer. It’s refreshing to read prose where someone seems to have some ability. This can’t save this pile of offal. It’s too little, too late, like a brave steward taking the wheel of the Titanic and shouting orders, just as the bow dips under the Atlantic, all it can do is provide some nice contrast. The plot, like the imaginings of a twelve-year-old boy, involves professional killers, serial killers, multiple murders. It could be a game: I list a bunch of bad people, and you make up a paragraph that involves them all.
The big question that comes out of this book is motive. Not motive for the characters, they’re just a bunch of unjustified whims. Motive for the writers: did they honestly not realize how terrible this one-draft crap was? Or are they universally lazy, realizing there was no point in making any effort at all? Or are they sly, subtle people who conspired to intentionally write the worst mystery every written, their joke played on every reader? No. There is absolutely no sign of intelligence anywhere between these covers.
To be fair, expectations should be low. The book was a fundraiser, commissioned of seventeen writers—few of whom could write ‘class cancelled’ on a white board (though several are college instructors in writing.) Each ‘writer’ wrote one chapter. Obviously, seventeen different voices can’t make a cohesive story.
In case the reader hadn’t considered this, the book begins with a foreword, longer than a chapter, describing in great glee what a terrific book this is, how diligent and clever the authors were, how thorough and expert the editor. It explains that ‘early on, a group of writers suggested . . . agreement as to how the book would end, whodunit and why.’ So, up until that point it was assumed that a clever mystery would issue from seventeen unconnected chapters?
This, I believe, was the point where I realized that this book is hilarious, in the way truly terrible movies become funny. Stupid scenes, wooden characters, pointless repetition, all combine to make this a tour-de-force in the art of failure.
Next up, after the foreword, is a long page of disclaimer, the gist of which is, Iowa is a lovely place with wonderful people and no bad things could really happen there, especially on the bike ride, and this is just fiction so don’t be scared. Also, ‘The Des Moines Register [sponsor of RAGBRAI] not only supported the writers, but placed few restrictions on the writing.’ Sweet. If I ever write a book set in Cleveland, I hope the Cleveland city council will place few restrictions on my writing.
What’s the worst way a mystery could start? Ha! No. Think worse. I have to tell you; you’ll never guess. The first chapter is set ten years in the future. Chapter one explains how there was a murder ten years ago but it was solved and this is just an anomaly, Iowa is a lovely place where no bad things happen. From chapter one: ‘the story came with a cliffhanger of an ending, one so stunning some reporters wondered among themselves if the State Patrol was faking it. The Patrol made a dramatic arrest of their chief suspect that was followed immediately by a heartfelt confession. And that let people go home with a sense of closure to a crazy week in their lives, one they will never, ever forget.’ These words were written by Iowa Boy, Chuck Offenburger, Writer-in-Residence at an Iowa university. Oh, man. Aside from the idiocy of telling us, in the first chapter, how a mystery ends, the sentences are amateurish. This is the point where the ‘editor’ begins to regret allowing her name to appear.
This hilarious farce continues. People who claim to be writers and writing instructors rely on clichés, make their characters of single-layer cardboard, write as though they were seven. The plot, wherever it surfaces, is contrived, ridiculous, and not taken seriously by the characters. The cops investigate a murder by assigning one cop to ride his bike among the thousands of other bikers. This is like investigating a murder in a stadium by assigning a cop to watch the next home game. Gee, I hope the murderer turns out to be in the seat next to his. Huh, in this case, that’s what happens.
The writers don’t even know Iowa, or the bike ride. One character mellows to the sound of crickets and locusts. Locusts? Perhaps she meant cicadas, an actual noise-making midwestern insect that doesn’t destroy cropland or create famine. RAGBRAI is an amazing spectacle, a river of bikes that covers a rural highway from shoulder to shoulder for sixty miles per day, eating and drinking its way across the state like a state fair on wheels. [The previous sentence may eclipse the sum-total of all RAGBRAI description in the book.] See RAGBRAI.com.
The writers head-hop, switch tenses, and always, always, always lapse into Chamber-of-Commerce description: the 1890 reformed church is renowned for its gothic bell tower and frescoes of Peter and Paul. In one chapter, the nearest thing to a protagonist muses whether he might have committed the crime. Huh? He’s not sure?
The last chapter comes from a writer. It’s refreshing to read prose where someone seems to have some ability. This can’t save this pile of offal. It’s too little, too late, like a brave steward taking the wheel of the Titanic and shouting orders, just as the bow dips under the Atlantic, all it can do is provide some nice contrast. The plot, like the imaginings of a twelve-year-old boy, involves professional killers, serial killers, multiple murders. It could be a game: I list a bunch of bad people, and you make up a paragraph that involves them all.
The big question that comes out of this book is motive. Not motive for the characters, they’re just a bunch of unjustified whims. Motive for the writers: did they honestly not realize how terrible this one-draft crap was? Or are they universally lazy, realizing there was no point in making any effort at all? Or are they sly, subtle people who conspired to intentionally write the worst mystery every written, their joke played on every reader? No. There is absolutely no sign of intelligence anywhere between these covers.
December 9, 2009
It was cute. If you've ever ridden on RAGBRAI or otherwise been involved with it somehow, I would recommend this book. If you're intrigued by how a book flows with 17 different authors, I would recommend this book. If you're looking for a solid, well-written story with a well connected plot and flow to the reading, I would not recommend this book.
June 7, 2019
First of all, this book is not written by Rebecca Christian but rather by 17 Iowa writers in the form of a serial novel, one chapter written by each of these writers. The book was commissioned by Public Radio KUNI. I'm not sure where Rebecca Christian's being identified as author comes from, but she's neither editor nor one of the 17 authors. Another mystery!
Those of us who have bicycled across Iowa in RAGBRAI will especially enjoy the descriptions of teams, equipment, food, and acronyms. KYBOS--RAGBRAI-speak for portapotties--which I'd always heard stood for "Keep your bowels open," in this novel stands for "Keep your butt off the seat," and that makes more sense to me as the acronym's meaning. The plot moves along like middle-of-the-pack riders, keeping one's interest. One thing I learned has to do with another novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. The title alludes to a Sherlock Holmes' story, "Silver Blaze," Holmes comments on the "curious" fact of the dog doing nothing in the night-time. Who knew?
Those of us who have bicycled across Iowa in RAGBRAI will especially enjoy the descriptions of teams, equipment, food, and acronyms. KYBOS--RAGBRAI-speak for portapotties--which I'd always heard stood for "Keep your bowels open," in this novel stands for "Keep your butt off the seat," and that makes more sense to me as the acronym's meaning. The plot moves along like middle-of-the-pack riders, keeping one's interest. One thing I learned has to do with another novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. The title alludes to a Sherlock Holmes' story, "Silver Blaze," Holmes comments on the "curious" fact of the dog doing nothing in the night-time. Who knew?
February 13, 2021
Cute little book about RAGBRAI. I think the idea was there but it was hard to understand near the end. My favorite RAGBRAI person was mentioned, Mr. Porkchop, so this story got another full star from me!
December 12, 2020
Interesting concept using a different writer for each chapter. I wonder of the plot was conceived beforehand or if it evolved with each new contributuin.
September 20, 2011
It wasn't quite as bad as the "Politics is Murder" book, another Iowa mystery where each chapter is written by a different author. This one was just strange. It might have been because I was bored and sleepy but about 2/3rds of the way through, the chapters got very difficult to understand. The action was hard to follow, the prose became muddled. It was just a very abrupt shift from the rest of the book. Not very good overall.
May 30, 2009
It's been a long time since I read this book. From what I remember it was ok. The thing I really like about this book was that each chapter was written by some of Iowa's favorite authors. I think I might pick up this book again.....
January 6, 2012
Fun to read if you've done RAGBRAI. Got kind of confusing during the 2nd half.
October 15, 2012
Light reading. Written by 17 Iowa mystery writers. Murder takes place on RAGBRAI, the annual bike ride across Iowa.
February 14, 2013
Taking into account that each chapter was written by a different author, this book was pretty good!
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews