Do genre writers think they are genre writers? If you write mystery or crime novels, do you think of yourself as a mystery or crime writer? Or just a writer? Do you consider what you write as literature or entertainment? Both? Neither? An unholy union? What did Val McDermid hope to accomplish with The Skeleton Road? A mystery novel that had some sprinklings of literariness? Or a literary novel that also had a mystery edge? Or just a book she wanted to write, so she sat down and did it? One shouldn’t just throw in the Balkan conflict of the 1990s, which is the underlying structure of this book, without serious thought. So which is it.
Well, The Skeleton Road has all the trappings of a contemporary mystery novel — mysterious first chapter, cliff-hanger chapter endings, jumping between multiple characters, all with something to hide. As each character is introduced, the narrative stops so we can get a full-on physical description (height, weight, hair style, fashion sense, glasses frames, colour of underwear, etc.). People are conveniently, but unremarkabled-upon-ably, bisexual, to add that sexual dimension.
But then, still, the Balkans, which makes me think that McDermid really wanted this to be more than an airport thriller paperback novel. Except the characters are all defined by their relationships to each other, rather than any pool of depth within themselves. Except the characters are a bunch of standard mystery tropes (the weary academic, the sultry lesbian, the mystery man from behind the Soviet Bloc, the hard-as-nails cop, the dumb strong man) who spend most of their time talking at each other, so that we, the readers, can get at the information we need for this to be a mystery novel. Except that the idea of can you love someone even if, that would have been the central focus of a true literary novel, is shoved to the last fifty-or-so pages, with really no introspection on the parts of any of the characters; accordingly, the answer is yes. You can love someone even if. You don’t even have to think about it. BAM!
As for the mystery: predictable, but enjoyable enough that I wanted confirmation that I was right. It’s a decent mystery novel. It’s definitely not schlock, but it’s not high art either, even if it does try to reach up towards it at times. It’s an above average mystery novel. The writing is not outstandingly literary but neither is it like trying to read your thirteen-year-old cousin’s emo blog.
But the Balkans. I can’t feel comfortable with that choice, because I just don’t think McDermid’s run-of-the-mill mystery novel is deft enough, has enough tact to handle, to contain, such a brutal force without its inclusion being somewhat, unintentionally, disrespectful.
The Skeleton Road by Val McDermid went on sale December 2, 2014.
I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.