The Word is Murder, and the genre is?
This highly unusual mystery by
is hard to describe. In an accomplished work of metafiction, the author is a character, conveying his plot through his own eyes as narrator. Horowitz leaves the reader wondering where fact ends and fiction begins. When he's not adding to the stock of highbrow literary references, he's happily exercising some time-worn tropes.
Against the stern writerly advice given in the guide by
the hilarious Mittelmark and Newman
, he has his articulate villain not only indulge in "a retirement speech," but also "improbably recount" all "his [or her?] evil deeds."
The possessor of enormous numbers of publication credits, this author plays with genre. His creations include youth and adult fiction, plays, journalism, TV series and films.
Well-known for
, he is also the author of more than forty books, including new
and
books commissioned by the estates of those authors.
In this page-turner, I found it unsettling to read the narrator's take on certain character who "was sitting there with that strange energy of his, that mix of malice and single-mindedness that made him so hard to read."
Every scene that features author/narrator Horowitz and (fictional) ex-policeman Hawthorne reflects their contrasting characters and approaches. Taking place near the end of the book, this description of Hawthorne's first visit to Horowitz's home is a telling revelation of the tension between the two men. Says Horowitz, "it struck me that he was completely in control of the situation, and this might as well have been his flat as mine. Hawthorne certainly had a magnetic personality. Although, of course, magnets can repel as well as attract."
In a conversation with another member of the police force, the narrator is told about "
." The existence of this book was a revelation to me. No doubt it's a boon for crime writers.
I particularly loved this fascinating glimpse into the author's writing process:
"I could see the books piling up in front of me. Sometimes, when I'm sitting at my desk I feel as if there's a dump truck behind me. I hear the whirr of its engine and it suddenly off-loads its contents...millions and millions of words. They keep cascading down and I wonder how many more there can possibly be. But I'm powerless to stop them. Words, I suppose, are my life."
Thank you, Anthony Horowitz, for the many wonderful creations you have made with your words.