THE FATE OF KATHERINE CARR, the latest from the prolific and much-praised author/editor Thomas H. Cook, is one of those books that academics love to hold up as examples of how a mystery can be as literary as any work of mainstream musings. But unlike similar examples by, say, George Pelecanos, Donald Woodrell or a few other noteworthy authors, Cook’s latest has several serious deficiencies. For one thing, nothing much happens.
The narrator is George Gates, a former travel writer who specialized in the odd, off-the-beaten-path attractions of the world with slightly notorious reputations. But then his 8-year-old son was murdered and the killer never found. And the death of his son resulted in the death of George’s curiosity, so he fills his time writing puff pieces for the local town newspaper about trivial events and personalities.
One evening, at his favorite bar, George is approached by Arlo McBride, a retired missing-persons detective who is familiar with George’s previous writings. Arlo tells him of one particular, unsolved case that he has never forgotten: Katherine Carr, a young local poet who suddenly vanished without so much as a clue.
George decides to look a little deeper into the case, and is introduced to Katherine’s closest friend, who presents him with some poems she wrote, and, in particular, a story she wrote, but never published. He is immediately intrigued, as the story is about a woman named Katherine Carr who seems to be stalked by an unknown man. George examines the various locations and local residents mentioned in the story, all in the hopes of discovering some undisclosed fact about whatever happened to Katherine.
Cook drenches his novel in several high-concept literary techniques. Right from the opening pages, we see that George’s entire story is told to a fellow traveler on a boat making its way down some mysterious, tropical river. So it is a story “told in quotation marks,” as a literature professor might point out. Then there is the story-within-the-story where Katherine writes about herself, which allows for several occasions of speculation about whether fiction is closer to reality than reality itself.
And finally, George shares his experience of Katherine’s story — both as written and as he examines it — with a woman named Alice, who, we learn, suffers from progeria, a rare disease that ages the body much faster than normal. So Alice might look to be in her 80s, but in reality, she is only 12 years old. And her living an entire life in far less time than normal is yet another occasion for deep pondering about existence.
All well and fine, and there are several passages of truly gripping prose, especially when George recalls any of the numerous places he’s visited before he lost his son. But for all his musing and speculations, George discovers nothing really significant about what really happened to Katherine Carr by the final chapters of the novel than he did at the beginning. He has plenty of opportunities to wonder about those who seemingly get away with committing crimes, and those who seemingly drop out of life without a clue as to if they are still alive or not. But by the close, he doesn’t know what to do with whatever it was he might have learned from his experience.
Thus, reading Cook’s book is a sometimes intriguing, but ultimately hollow experience. Oh, there are bound to be plenty of readers who feel that reality seldom offers tidy endings where all is revealed and resolved. And while they will find much to admire in works like this, it leave the rest of us who follow crime and mystery fiction longing for a lot less philosophical depth and a bit more gut-level action. —Alan Cranis
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