JOIN USTrouble served cold
Vikram Seth, in his ‘Word of Thanks’ at the beginning of ‘A Suitable Boy’, wrote in his typical deprecating fashion: ‘Buy me before good sense insists...You’ll strain your purse and sprain your wrists.”
At 927 pages, the fifth Strike novel from J K Rowling (writing as Robert Galbraith, her self-proclaimed literary alter-ego) does both. It does a third thing too — makes you want to shake the ennui out of its lead characters who go round in circles emotionally. It doesn’t help matters that Rowling also sends them on many frustrating (for the reader) wild goose chases in their bid to solve a cold case featuring a cross-dressing serial killer.
That the antagonist likes to try out women’s clothes is unfortunate, at best, in the light of the recent controversy Rowling got herself into, thanks to her comments that were perceived as transphobic. Rowling haters, of course, are certain that the author fuelled the entire controversy as part of some twisted publicity for her new novel. Her supporters passionately disagree with such accusations.
‘Troubled Blood’ is the fifth instalment in the Strike novels. Like before, it is as much about the one-legged detective Cormoran Strike (how passionately Strike would hate being described as such) and his once-secretary-now-partner Robin Ellacott’s complicated personal lives and mutual attraction, as it is about the case itself. Like the earlier novels, it can be read independently, but is best read as part of the series that began spectacularly with ‘A Cuckoo’s Nest’ way back in 2013.
For those who are new to the series, Strike is a former military policeman who loses a leg while serving in Afghanistan. Robin, a rape survivor with a knack for detective work, first joins Strike’s agency as his secretary, but graduates to being his partner in detection because of her skills.
Take it slow
For Strike-Robin fans like me, the lack of progress in their relationship, despite clear indications from both sides of the desire to take it further, is frankly disappointing enough to make me want to care less.
What makes matters worse is that nearly 200 pages into the novel, there isn’t much happening detection wise either. Yes, it is a cold case, and clearly, Rowling wants the reader to take it slow, savour the dead-ends and wonder, along with Robin, about the persona of Margot Bamborough, the ‘feminist’ doctor who said she would meet a friend after work at a pub, but never turned up.
Unfortunately, Rowling spends far too much time and energy on the troubles of Strike’s aunt who is terminally ill, his rockstar father who wants a patch-up and his ex who still sends him naked pictures of herself to wish him for his birthday (yawn). Robin, meanwhile, is struggling with a messy divorce, unwanted male attention and meh birthday gifts from Strike. The case is but a distant echo in the initial chapters and only picks up pace in the middle. Bizarrely and suddenly, the reader has too much on his plate — a chillingly heartless serial killer, a suspiciously benign husband (of the missing doc), a police officer who believes in astrological mumbo-jumbo, mediums, tarot readers and one too many smaller characters, none of whom are fleshed out like you expect them to be in a Rowling novel.
Bizarre twists
Without giving away too much, this is the plot in a nutshell. Nearly 40 years after Margot disappeared, her daughter Anna approaches Strike who agrees to devote one year to solve the case. As he and Robin struggle through the fog of what happened, the mystery surrounding the doctor’s disappearance deepens, the lies begin to surface rapidly and witnesses go missing while the memories of those present are suspect, to put it mildly.
Furthermore, the two detectives have to contend with the initial investigative officer’s obsession with zodiac signs and conviction about the possible murderer. (Natal charts and occultish drawings are, by the way, scattered throughout the book.)
It is only when Strike and Robin go beyond star signs and begin a more practical investigation that Rowling comes into her own, despite, let’s say, the inherent silliness of the zodiac sub-plot.
From this point onwards, the novel is gripping in its complexity and you begin to enjoy being misdirected; Creed, the serial killer, appears too and is appropriately psychopathic and the persona of Bamborough gradually takes shape in our minds, just as Rowling perhaps intended.
Despite its flaws, Troubled Blood’s denouement, one must admit, is inventive and satisfying. And therein lies Rowling’s talent. Her ability to spin intricacies, create wonderfully complex characters and hide tales within tales remain unmatched — one only wishes she restrains herself from getting carried away by her own genius. That said, I am up for Strike Number Six, Seth’s warning notwithstanding.