In the 1980s and 1990s, American supermarket checkout stands were full of mass-market paperbacks with covers featuring blood-red slashes, silver-foil knife blades, wide-eyed terrified white women, and titles like I'LL BE WATCHING YOU or A STRANGER IN HIDING or NIGHT SCREAMS. The stories were inevitably about psychosexually driven serial killers and the aspirational women they locked into their sights, and there was about nine hundred million of them, or so it seemed, because it also seemed that my mother snarfed up every single one, and even though my interest in crime fiction ran in a different vein, I'd pick up one of hers every now and then when I was visiting to pass a night when sleep proved difficult to find. They wren't great, but they did their job, and the stalked-sexy-white-woman story still has supple legs to this day.
In story form, John Rector's BROKEN is a lot like those tales of what I came to think of as "supermarket suspense." A young woman is murdered in a quiet seaside town. Her abusive husband is arrested, but it quickly becomes no secret who the real killer is — Thomas, the awkward but intense manager of their apartment building, who drifted into the job after a few teenage years in a psychiatric hospital for setting a fire that killed his parents. And when the dead woman's twin sister comes to town in search of answers and some semblance of closure, Thomas sees a second chance to secure his dream girl. All very familiar stuff. So for most of BROKEN, ostensibly a suspense-thriller there appears to be virtually no suspense about how things will play out. But —
Well, let me just say that I use the term "shocking twist" with great reluctance, because most twists in most contemporary suspense-thrillers appear to spring out of the author's all-too-obvious story scaffolding, constructed atop a foundation of cynical commercial calculated aimed at the market of the moment, rather than out of the characters’ established pathologies. But John Rector, the author of several crime-fiction novels I’ve admired, is too smart to step into that trap. Instead, he skillfully leads us into his trap. And the result is indeed a shocking twist that I’ve never seen before, all the more shocking for the casual deftness by which it’s dropped just when you’re certain you know exactly how things are going to play out. It is a white-hat white character’s sudden swerve into the darkest shade of moral gray possible, and it’s worth sticking around for.
There’s another reason to read BROKEN even you think the story has no capacity to surprise you, and that John Rector himself. Rector isn’t a high prose stylist or a thematically deep thinker on the page, but he has what I think of as a first-rate sense of glide, the ability to make the page turn not just because of how skillfully he plots and pieces together characters, and blends them into settings that take on their own deliciously dark-gray lives, but because he is a master of imbuing every passage and every page with what writing-craft guru James Scott Bell calls “pleasurable uncertainty.” Every sentence is exquisitely pitched with a sense of shadowy dread you can’t quite completely see, and there’s a sense of being in the hands of a professional with perfect tonal control who never wasted a word, and at some point you become dimly aware that you’ve lost the ability to look away.
These qualities are ultimately what make you want to power through BROKEN in a single sitting. That’s rare in a genre populated by hacks, pretenders and writers not in control of their gifts, and it’s why John Rector should be more widely read and celebrated.