The Reception of :

A Study of Reader Reactions and Expectations

by

Victoria Antoniou

A dissertation submitted to the Department of English Literature and Culture,

School of English, Faculty of Philosophy,

Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Greece

In fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Victoria Antoniou

The Reception of Detective Fiction:

A Study of Reader Reactions and Expectations

Doctoral Dissertation

Submitted to the School of English Language and Literature,

Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Greece

Dissertation Committee: Approved:

Karin Boklund- Lagopoulou, Adviser ------

Domna Pastourmatzi, Co-Adviser ------

Nikolaos Kontos, Co-Adviser ------

Department Chairperson: Accepted:

------

Date of oral defence: ______

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Abstract

Introduction...... 1

Chapter One: Sociological Approaches to Popular Literature and Culture...... 6

Chapter Two: What the Critics Say about Detective Fiction...... 29

Chapter Three: Methodological Considerations...... 50

Chapter Four: DorothyL: A Description of the Site and the Establishment of the Corpus..... 61

Chapter Five: Statistical Analysis of the Corpus...... 100

Chapter Six: The Readers and the Critics...... ………………....……...... 212

Epilogue...... 243

Appendix: DorothyL Subscriber and Occupations List...... 266

Works Cited...... ……………………………………………………………………...... 2 74

Acknowledgements

... my first fruits present themselves to thee; Yet not mine neither: for from thee they came, And must return. George Herbert, “The Dedication”

It is a pleasure to thank the many people who made this thesis possible.

First and foremost, I would like to take this chance to express my deepest gratitude to my thesis adviser Dr. Karin Boklund-Lagopoulou, who has been a constant source of support, enthusiasm, and knowledge throughout. My incomplete digestion of relevant concepts and literature, and my spasmodic writing habits were only few of the shortcomings she has had to battle with. Her inclination to pair critique with profound empathy, willfully bearing the occasional brunt of my frustration with equanimity and commitment, and the determination, availability, and sense of joy with which she has addressed my queries have set for me a high standard. This dissertation is a very small tribute to an inspiring teacher from a student still genuinely wishing to learn from her.

It has also been a great honour for me to receive guidance and feedback from the other two members of my committee Dr Domna Pastourmatzi and Dr Nikolaos Kontos. They have made their skills available in various ways. Their advice and experience has been invaluable in my quest of useful literature. Their insights are second to none, and their rigor, passion, persistence, and meticulousness paradigmatic. Their encouragement and kindness are greatly appreciated. Many thanks are also due for their editing interventions and precise sense of language which contributed to the final copy. It would have been next to impossible to write this thesis without their suggestions and overall reinforcement.

Aristotle University and the Department of English, in particular, have provided the appropriate milieu and equipment needed to complete my thesis. I would regret my doctoral years had it not been for the convivial environment sustained by the teaching, library, administrative, and technical personnel as well as by fellow students. All helped render those years a wonderful experience. I would particularly like to acknowledge the assistance of the staff at the Information Technology Center and thank them for sourcing me with SPSS and of the staff at the Network Operation Center for their unfailing patience and insistence on culturing the ignorant in certificates and protocols. I also treasure all precious moments shared with doctoral buddies, and would really like to thank them for their camaraderie and entertainment. Philosophical debates, exchanges of knowledge, and venting of distress with a friendly and cheerful group of fellow students helped enrich the experience and battle academic anxiety. Thus they deserve a loud mention.

This dissertation was made possible due to the assistance of the Ministry of Education and a leave of absence that facilitated mobility, research and also immersion in academic mentality. Without it my ambition to conclude this dissertation could have hardly been realised. I am, therefore, deeply indebted, hoping that I have made good use of the opportunity offered.

My thesis grew out of a series of postings that lovers of detective fiction supplied and it is to them that I will forever be obliged. The moderators and list owners of DorothyL

Michael J. Kovacs, Diane K. Kovacs, and Kara L. Robinson have granted their permission for me to use the material provided by their posters. I was particularly delighted to interact with Ms Diane K. Kovacs, who eagerly embraced my plan.

I would also like to thank all people who have been a constant source of inspiration and creativity as their appreciation of knowledge, research, and admiration of mental or physical expeditions has helped form a role-model that defies roadblocks and cherishes openness and new horizons instead. Those people have been, each in their unique way, a source of unfailing excitement before but also during my doctoral study and include Aimilia

Fratzoli-Papandreou, Angelika & Günther Kube, Karin & Joern Koch, Rev. Demetrios Vakaros, and the late Apostolos Grammatikas and Evangelos Karageorgopoulos. I will be forever thankful to them for the precious lessons that would have taken me a lifetime to master.

Above all, however, my heartfelt gratitude goes to my loving parents Sofia and

Apostolos Antoniou whose mentality, values, and counseling instilled the love of knowledge and paved the way for a privileged education, as well as my brother Kostas Antoniou whose adherence to goal setting, solution-oriented disposition, and technical assistance at each turn of the road has helped make my work smoother. Their emotional reassurance and steadfast caring encouraged me beyond what I can appreciate. The profoundest understanding of commitment to goal achieving is the unsuspected contribution of my niece Eftyhia-Victoria

Antoniou during the concluding stages of the dissertation. To all four of them I dedicate this thesis as an acknowledgment of their unflagging love and devotion to helping me realise dreams and relishing in my endeavours — always in respect of the suspiciousness of truth claims, of course! — my truest possible self.

In recognition of such favourable learning surroundings that has allowed me to grow academically as well as personally, I assume responsibility for every aspect of this thesis and acknowledge that any errors or weaknesses in the theoretical or methodological assumptions employed, any crucial, or lesser drawbacks and shortcomings in my conclusions are entirely the bad produce of my tardiness and thus my own fault.

Abstract

Detective fiction has been an appealing reading pastime for over a century. However, despite numerous sociological studies on popular culture and literature, the consumer/reader largely remains an elusive persona. The sociology of literature and reception studies traditionally focus on a hypothetical reader whose horizon of expectations must be reconstructed from extant texts and/or the fiction itself. This dissertation zeroes in on the actual perusing individual. The aim is to achieve an empirically-constituted, sociological portrait of contemporary readers of popular detective fiction and involves a twofold objective; to identify their conceptual classificatory schemas and compare them with the respective schemas of critical approaches to popular detective fiction from its inception to the present. The dissertation meets the aim through an extensive study of relevant literature and a treatment of postings to DorothyL as an empirical database that comprises marked combinations of socio-literary information. The statistical processing of an empirically- constructed corpus via a combination of qualitative content analysis and Greimasian structural semantics yields important information. It ascertains that daily-recorded correspondences of taste regarding the literary can indeed provide an eloquent description of the contemporary bibliophile. The key finding is that the contemporaneous detective-fiction reader is keen on a combination of characteristics. This combination emerges in the late

1970s and intertwines historicity with structural excellence. The main conclusion drawn is that the empirical deficiency in popular-literature studies has led theorists of culture to perceive its consumer as a lobotomised adherent to the status quo, and popular fiction as one of the instruments for the operation. However, the current approach reveals that DorothyL subscribers are self-willed/emancipated agents who appropriate the original detective fiction formula; they demand that their favourite sleuth stories display certain characteristics. In this dissertation, the actual receiver of culture sanctions French structuralist and post-structuralist critical assumptions about the nature of language, culture, and (wo)man. Posters to DorothyL attest to the autonomous subversive, ideological nature of literature, and to the dialectical relationship of texts to reality — assumptions long validated only via (meta)textual criticism and virtual-readership constructions. This thesis argues for a methodologically unbiased approach to popular culture, however, one that does not disregard the actual consumer, and proposes that more research should be carried out based on authentic communications of readers’ preferences and opinions. 1

Introduction

Millions of artists create; only a few thousands are discussed or accepted by the spectator and many less again are consecrated by posterity. In the last analysis, the artist may shout from all the rooftops that he is a genius: he will have to wait for the verdict of the spectator in order that his declarations take a social value and that, finally, posterity includes him in the primers of Artist History. Marcel Duchamp, “The Creative Act”

For the English-speaking world, the father of detective fiction is Edgar Allan Poe because he conceived the first fictional amateur detective, the brilliant and eccentric C.

Auguste Dupin. Poe’s masterful interweaving of Dupin’s superior intelligence with a baffling plot in works such as “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1841),1 “The Mystery of

Marie Rogêt” (1842-43),2 and “The Purloined Letter” (1844)3 reveals the blueprint of basic requirements for the construction of an engaging detective story. Poe’s ratiocinative alternative to the sentimentalist or didactic hack literature of the time is continued by Sir

Arthur Conan Doyle. Doyle places his quintessential, amateur detective, in stories that are both more respectful of narrative economy and assign more emphasis to trivial elements for legitimate deductions. Such is Holmes’s popularity that Doyle decides to resurrect him in a retrospective story, “The Hound of the Baskervilles” (1901-02),4 and even bring him back to life in “The Adventure of the Empty House” (1901-02),5 much to the readership’s satisfaction.

The Golden Age of detective fiction spanning the 1920s and 1930s sees Agatha

Christie, Margery Allingham, and Dorothy L. Sayers introduce the ‘whodunit,’ starring the

1 Published in Graham’s Magazine. 2 Published in Ladies’ Companion in three installments, November and December 1842 and February 1843. 3 It first appeared in the literary annual The Gift for 1845. 4 Both “The Hound of the Baskervilles” and “The Adventure of the Empty House” were first serialised in Strand Magazine. 5 In later publications called “The Empty House.” 2 detectives , Albert Campion, and Lord Peter Wimsey respectively. The mainstream ‘whodunit’ is a story that invariably features an upper-class cast, is set in traditional English villages or country houses and betrays nostalgia for the prewar edenic condition. Most notably, however, ‘whodunits’ are tales of structural excellence because they are meant to engage the reader in a game of fair play that demands ingenuity of construction. Thus, the whirlwind of clues and red herrings is the main concern of writers who, within a highly formulaic genre, strive to produce gripping replicas of a basic plot. This tradition continues throughout the following decades in the works of R. Austin Freeman,

Michael Innes, Philip MacDonald, Josephine Tey, Anthony Berkeley, Freeman Wills Crofts,

Nicholas Blake, as well as New Zealander Ngaio Marsh, Belgian Georges Simenon, and

Americans John Dickson Carr, Ellery Queen and S.S. Van Dine.

Concurrently, pulp magazines such as Black Mask, Dime Detective, and Detective

Fiction Weekly embrace the proponents of a more realistic subgenre that has become known as ‘hardboiled.’ Dashiell Hammett and dismiss the complacent aura of the ‘whodunit’ in favour of gritty realism, and equip their professional protagonists with a frame of mind resolute on survival against all adversities both in the shabby slums, and in the glamorous urban neighbourhoods. Hammett’s Sam Spade in “The Maltese Falcon” (1929),6

Nick and Nora Charles in The Thin Man (1934), and the Continental Op in Red Harvest

(1929) as well as Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe in The Big Sleep (1939), Farewell, My Lovely

(1940), and The Long Goodbye (1953) are fashioned with a flair for repartee and a tough physical and mental resilience that inevitably render them invincible. The ‘hardboiled’ detective novel also continues to be popular throughout the 1960s and 1970s, with writers such as Chester Himes, Mickey Spillane, John D. MacDonald, Robert B. Parker, and Walter

Mosley emulating the ‘hardboiled’ style. Ross MacDonald is the first to revolutionise it. His

6 Serialized in Black Mask. 3 private eye, Lew Archer, operates within a story frame that allows characters psychological depth, and the reader a profounder insight into their motivations thanks to a skillful employment of first-person narration. In 1956, Ed McBain, with his 87th Precinct novel featuring Cop Hater, introduces further innovation, the first ‘,’ a subgenre depicting team efforts of official detection.

In the 1980s, detective-fiction writers affiliate themselves with a postmodernist problematic. Marcia Muller, , and respond to the lack of non- stereotypical female representation in detective fiction with their feminist, private investigators Sharon McCone, V. I. Warshawski, and Kinsey Millhone, and pave the way for the representation of other marginalised groups as more than clichéd caricatures. The postmodernist problematic is also obvious in a more structurally-experimental movement. In novels such as Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose (1980), and Paul Auster’s The New York

Trilogy, originally published sequentially as City of Glass (1985), Ghosts (1986), and The

Locked Room (1986), the retardation of closure is perpetuated beyond the end of the story.

Both trends engage the conventions of the classic detective formula in an effort to question, subvert, or parody modernist assumptions. In this vein, writers foreground the constructed nature of fictional representations and discredit totalizing visions and grand narratives as mediums of manipulation.7 Postmodernist detective fiction then frowns upon the modernist perceptions of the artist or creator as an indispensable authority and of high-brow art as the only source of literary value, thus also questioning the legitimacy of the boundary between the canonical tradition of serious art and commercial or popular literature.

7 Their craft, betraying a rejection of a definitive demarcating line between reality and representation, considers reality to be a patchwork of conditional simulacra. The proliferation of Jean Baudrillard’s simulacra “characterises the commodity production of capitalism and marks our object world with an unreality and a free- floating absence of ‘the referent’” (Jameson, “Reification” 135). Thus, any signifier manifesting as disagreeable representation or action is, due to its emptiness and inauthenticity, disposable and substitutable via the performance of the same or another agency. 4

The preceding classification of detective fiction already points to the longevity of the genre. By means of a series of adaptations to changing needs and perspectives, authors of detective fiction not only sustain the genre for more than a century, but also render it one of the most popular reading pastimes. People like to solve riddles, to probe for solutions. But what do readers believe about their favourite leisure activity? This is a question that has not been answered in a systematic manner. Lack of genuine material expressing such views as well as methodological partiality, or bias in the studies of popular culture and literature have been the main reasons for ample speculation but little empirically-grounded conclusiveness.

In the current project, I wish to investigate what actual, detective-fiction readers — not hypothetical constructed readers — communicate about the books they read. I am thus indebted to DorothyL,8 an online discussion list for detective-fiction lovers. I choose

DorothyL because it is the “first and oldest” Internet list (Johnson 195) still running and because it provides access to the archives of its digests, the necessary raw material, so that research is made possible.

My dissertation develops along the following itinerary. In Chapter One I present the main sociological approaches to popular literature and culture, and expose some of their key concerns. In this part, I aim to document the originality of the project by revealing the scarcity of empirical research in the sociological approaches to popular literature and culture as well as a lack of methodological systematicity in the few empirical projects dealing with the reader/consumer. These are the key inadequacies that this project seeks to redress. In

Chapter Two I provide an overview of the most salient critical trends in relation to detective fiction, and I focus on defining the main stages and the characteristics that have been of interest to detective-fiction criticism. The findings provide the backdrop against which I later illuminate reader preferences and areas of concern and against which I trace them

8 DorothyL is the shortname I will use from this point onwards instead of DorothyL: The official Website. 5 chronologically. In Chapter Three I outline the methodology of the current project. I introduce Greimasian structural semantics and qualitative content analysis and explain their mechanics in detail. These two important components of the research at hand serve to sustain the originality and legitimacy of the project because they allow me to identify the codes that the contributors to DorothyL consider significant in their reading of detective fiction and to carry out a systematic statistical study of them. In this part I also describe the difference between a sample and a corpus and explain the reasons why the latter is more appropriate for the current project. Chapter Four focuses on establishing the corpus and offers a detailed introduction to DorothyL, its subscribers, and the available sociological data as well as the etiquette that structures their communication. It also describes the final corpus I employ for the current project and the implementation of Greimasian structural semantics in the actual definition of isotopies and codes for DorothyL-specific reading of detective fiction. Chapter

Five provides the statistical analysis of the corpus and the description of the main categories that emerge. Chapter Six compares the perspectives of critics of detective fiction and the perceptions of posters, which allows for the conclusion that posters are keen on detective- fiction characteristics that emerged in the late 1970s: a combination of historicity and structural excellence. The Epilogue discusses the conclusions of the study. 6

Chapter One

Sociological Approaches to Popular Literature and Culture

There is no such thing as a literary work or tradition which is valuable in itself, regardless of what anyone might have said or come to say about it. ‘Value’ is a transitive term: it means whatever is valued by certain people in specific situations, according to particular criteria and in the light of given purposes. Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory: An introduction

Approaches to popular literature and culture traditionally start from a Marxist theoretical perspective. In the western Marxist tradition, there have been several attempts to amend the purely materialist perception of culture because it trivializes cultural manifestations due to the dependence on the economic base.9 Their common denominator is to imbue the processes of cultural comprehension and production with an active and autonomous streak that allows the deliberate regulation of social life and the preservation of capitalist practices. A second decisive characteristic for western Marxism implicates the prominent role of ideology, which is said to smother proletarian radicalism and revolt. One, therefore, witnesses a strong humanistic trend betraying interest in human experience, freedom, commonality, alienation, and personal prosperity, in strong contrast to structural

Marxism.

Georg Lukács initiates the main issues which the greatest representatives of western

Marxism employ in the future. In the early 20th century, he turns to Marxism to study commodity fetishism and alienation. His contribution in calling attention to Karl Marx’s

Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts (1844) is perhaps his greatest achievement because it provides a legitimate theoretical framework for the emergence of cultural Marxism. His

9 Karl Marx has clearly stated that “the individuals composing the ruling class … rule also as thinkers” (Selected Writings 93). In his theoretical formulation, “The mode of production of material life determines the general character of the social, political and spiritual processes of life” and, he stresses, “With the change of the economic foundation the entire superstructure is more or less rapidly transformed” (67-68).

7 most important book History and Class Consciousness: Studies in Marxist Dialectics (1923) describes the way capitalism infiltrates social life via the commodification of social relations, activities and values. Such practices alienate and reify human relationships, thus rendering the definition of objective exchange value the source of all evil (92). Workers are unable to comprehend the totality of the capitalist system and the repercussions of its practices on their lives; thus their fragmented vision is responsible for the proletariat’s lack of class- consciousness, critical acumen, and reflection on capitalist ideological repercussions.

Following Lukács, Antonio Gramsci introduces a concern for the neglect of politics and disregard of culture as well as an emphasis on the interrelation of culture, politics and socialist strategy in an attempt to render the causational Marxist schema more flexible. In his famous Prison Notebooks (1929-1935), he declares that hegemony is not rooted in economic parameters but appropriates salient political and cultural elements. Hegemony is the role of ideas and culture produced by intellectuals and channeled into class struggle (Gramsci,

Selections 5-7, 77-82, 452-453). For Gramsci, the state is not a vast unbiased bureaucratic machine but skillfully promotes the class interests of the bourgeoisie. The activities of organic intellectuals, priests, journalists, academics, play an important role in the propagation of hegemonic values. They form a potent hegemonic block comprising agents of industry, aristocracy and bourgeoisie who assemble under the banner of a hegemonic ideology.

According to Gramsci, “hegemony presupposes that account be taken of the interests and the tendencies of the groups over which hegemony is to be exercised” without, however,

“touch[ing] the essential” (Selections 161). The vital component is the particular idea the ruling class wishes to promote in order to ensure the hegemonic status. Gramsci believes that the substitution of the hegemonic block with a block of solidarity that accommodates either lower-class agents or agents from all classes (in other words, the transformation of organic intellectuals into socialist intellectuals) can lead to the destruction of hegemony and thus to 8 the promotion of a revolutionary mentality. Any assessment of Gramsci’s work must stress his contribution to the battle against Marxist fatalism and determinism. Gramsci reveals culture to be flexible and pliable; a set of practices structured by non-monolithic dominant ideologies and governed by non-automatic or self-evident attempts to seize control of the social infrastructure.

The Frankfurt School is associated with the Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt, which was established in the early 1920s. A number of scholars with diverse research interests but a common methodological outlook, namely the critique of rationalism and capitalism and the interest in the effects of technology on social life, promote research on the

(re)production of popular culture and its impact on lower social classes. Thinkers abiding by this agenda attempt to trace both the conditions in which human acumen succeeds in perceiving the totality of the perceived — that is to reach a neo-Marxist understanding of the world and achieve ultimate freedom — and the situational demarcations whereby fragmentation of consciousness follows fragmentation of perception.

Walter Benjamin is a prominent thinker loosely associated with the Frankfurt School.

In “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1936), Benjamin explains that industrial capitalism transforms the nature of cultural objects: “the technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition. By making many reproductions it substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his own particular situation, it actualizes that which is reproduced” (221). These “two processes lead to a tremendous shattering of tradition which is the obverse of the contemporary crisis and renewal of mankind” (221).10 All in all,

10 Carl Einstein seems to share the belief in the utopian perception of art as transformative power. However, he conceptualizes its mechanism in what appears a restatement of Benjamin’s theory. For him repetition is not capable of reworking tradition. As Charles W. Haxthausen explains, for Einstein ,“Repetition served a lie that humanity told itself about the Real; repetition generated ‘the illusion of the immortality of things,’ and endowed them with a semblance of stability and durability, when in truth all was in continual flux” which renders it “a deadly bulwark against radical change” (47). 9

“Mechanical reproduction of art changes the reaction of the masses toward art” (234), allowing participation in both the reception and the appreciation of artistic works. Whereas in precapitalist societies, cultural artifacts are imbued with meaningfulness dictated by encompassing social relations, in the industrial era, cultural tokens are stripped of their sacred, spiritual, authentic, or imaginative underpinnings. Loss of the “aura” of authenticity results in loss of all the above. Loss of the “aura” also makes audiences respond to cultural products in a rather unified or homogenised manner, which testifies to the blunting of critical and mental skills.

Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno’s book Dialectic of Enlightenment (1947)11 is an attack on the entertainment industry of consumerist capitalism. The main argument in this work is that the Enlightenment has failed its potential. Rationality and scientific knowledge far from ensuring freedom and solidarity render the world a demonic place, a mass society in which individuality is cancelled for the sake of profitable schemes advanced by the social elites. For Adorno and Horkheimer, the concept of the culture industry and its effects are important. For both, “the concepts of order which it hammers into human beings are always those of the status quo” and the “power of the culture industry’s ideology is such that conformity has replaced consciousness” (“The Culture Industry” 427). They also maintain,

“The culture industry intentionally integrates its consumers from above” (424) and despite the fact that it “undeniably speculates on the conscious and unconscious state of the millions towards which it is directed, the masses are not primary, but secondary, they are an object of calculation; an appendage of the machinery” because as Adorno and Horkheimer claim, “The culture industry misuses its concern for the masses in order to duplicate, reinforce and strengthen their mentality, which it presumes is given and unchangeable” (424). On the

11 This book is a translation from volume 5 of Max Horkheimer’s Gesammelte Schriften: Dialektic der Aufklärung und Schriften 1940-1950 which was published by S. Fishcher Verlag GmbH in Frankfurt am Main. 10 whole, Adorno and Horkheimer reject popular culture as trite, superficial and dangerously manipulative.12

Louis Althusser seeks to develop a theory of ideology based on a structuralist perception of Marxism, which is free from any notions of economic determinism. The spatial metaphor of the base-superstructure reveals for Althusser “the relative autonomy of the superstructure and the reciprocal action of the superstructure on the base” (130). In order to propagate capitalism, the state uses repressive state apparatuses such as prisons, policing, and the army, all of which serve to stifle leftist revolts. The state also uses ideological apparatuses, which proliferate false notions about the nature and organization of the social construct. For Althusser, burgeoning delusions promoted by the various ideological apparatuses masquerade as rationalizations and sustain the status quo because these delusions propagate the fallacy that the constructed is naturally so and thus inescapable. Even when they assume positions in the social fabric, individuals are guided by the ideological apparatuses of the state. However, because “all ideology has the function … of constituting concrete individuals as subjects” (171), state apparatuses as the conveyers of ideology delimit the subject positions that each individual might occupy, or the identity it assumes within the establishment. Althusser’s undertaking to combine the structural Marxian perspective with a cultural theory that upholds the relative autonomy of culture is rather bold despite its systemic nature. However, Edward Palmer Thompson in The Poverty of Theory and Other

Essays (1978) considers the attempt at a systemic approach rather superficial because it remains socially inoperative. Scorning the struggles of the working class, Althusser’s formulations appear to refuse human agency the freedom to create an individual future or affect collective destiny.

12 However, there are some dissenting voices like that of Bernard Gendron who in his article “Theodor Adorno Meets the Cadillacs” suggest that the standardization involved in popular culture is not necessarily an indication of a decadent culture but of the pleasure the consumer might reap from the familiar pattern. 11

E.P. Thompson belongs to a group of British scholars in the field that is known as

Cultural Studies. The first proponents of British Cultural Studies are Richard Hoggart and

Raymond Williams working in the late 1950s and 1960s. In the subsequent years, theorists affiliated with the New Left enter the field. These new cultural theorists revert to western

Marxism and new social movements in order to combat the antagonistic, causational, dogmatic and antihumanist perspective of traditional Marxism. Althusser’s idea about the relative autonomy of culture is also important for work in British Cultural Studies until the early 1980s, when the Gramscian perspective on culture begins to prevail at the expense of

Althusserian-based research. In addition, the work of Michel Foucault, Jacques Lacan and

Jacques Derrida gains ground. Their theoretical formulations contribute to a new understanding of society as the locus of diverse inequalities and resulting conflicts. Thus,

British Cultural Studies examine the cultural field by focusing on a variety of issues: identity, ideology, and textuality are only a few of the options.

Hoggart and Williams revolt against the elitist valorization of high literature and the condemnation of popular literature espoused by T.S. Eliot and F.R. Leavis. In The Uses of

Literacy (1957), Hoggart proposes, “The mass of talented commercial writers ensures that most people are kept at a level in reading at which they can respond only to the crudely imprecise, the expected, the primary, the most highly colored” (197). His greatest achievement is the fact that he introduces working class culture in academic curricula and renders texts of popular literature acceptable for close reading. In contrast, Williams may be credited with strong theoretical models. In Culture and Society (1958) he attempts a systematic analysis of the term culture. In fact, he explains, “The history of the idea of culture is a record of our reactions, in thought and feeling, to the changed conditions of our common life” (285). In The Long Revolution (1961), Williams introduces the notion of the structure of feeling which is not a personal or individualistic interpretation but a feeling 12 shared by an entire generation or society. Socialization is the avenue that gives access to the structure of feeling. Structure of feeling of earlier periods can be reconstructed through documentary culture, the tangible proofs which convey “that life to us in direct terms, when the living witnesses are silent” (49). Finally, in Marxism and Literature (1977), Williams speaks of “the complex relation of differentiated structures of feeling to differentiated classes” (134), and stresses that literature and culture in general must be examined from the perspectives of hegemony and ideology.

Research carried out at the Birmingham Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies13 may be classified in three broad subgroups. The first, subscribing to a neo-Marxist culturalist perspective, engages in textual analyses of mass media and attempts to expose the means used to reproduce hegemony and the ruling-class ideology. For these theorists of culture, the emphasis on the propagation of the status quo via the mass media derives from a bifurcated frustration. They wish to react against other Marxist-inspired approaches, such as structural functionalism and political economy, but they also wish to test non-Marxist models of comprehending social praxis, such as the liberal pluralist. Their distrust emulates from the conviction that neither sketches a full-fledged exegesis of the role of the media. While purely structuralist analysis by Althusserian Marxists focuses on “the internal articulation of the signifying systems of the media” (Curran, et al. 28), structural Functionalism champions an organic understanding of society. It stresses “the effort to impute, as rigorously as possible, to each feature, custom, or practice, its effect on the functioning of a supposedly stable, cohesive system” (Urry 23). It, therefore, configures the media, among other institutions, as means of ensuring solidarity and equilibrium but, in doing so, it encounters ample criticism.14

13 From now on I will use the abbreviation CCCS. 14 Scholars condemn it for being unable to annotate social change, contradiction and conflict (Holmwood 100) and for disregarding race, gender, and class dynamics in favour of static perception of society. Even Talcott Parsons privileges integration and consensus. In his work, Theories of Society: Foundations of Modern Sociological Theory, he conceives change in terms of a conventional process whereby any aberration is followed by swift return to social order (38). Moreover, critics suggest that both its epistemological and 13

Political economy partisans such as Graham Murdock and Peter Golding tether their work to the Marxist fundamentalist tradition. “Capitalism, Communication and Class Relations”

(Murdock 1977) and “Large Corporations and the Control of the Communications Industries”

(Murdock and Golding 1982) postulate that the sway of the media emanates from its economic and production infrastructures. For work subscribing to this approach, media ownership equals ideological authority over the promoted content15 but for the neo-Marxist culturalist venture this is a demarcation. Liberal pluralism, the main non-Marxist tradition since the 1940s (Hall, “Rediscovery” 56-65), provides an alternative picture of social being and practice. In short, according to James, Curran, Michael Gurevitch and Janet Woollacott,

Pluralists see society as a complex of competing groups and interests, none of

them predominant all of the time. Media organizations are seen as bounded

organizational systems, enjoying an important degree of autonomy from the

state, political parties and institutionalized pressure groups. Control of the

media is said to be in the hands of an autonomous managerial elite who allow

a considerable degree of flexibility to media professionals. (qtd. in Gurevitch,

et al. 1)

The inclusiveness of liberal pluralism fosters audience emancipation. The public can waft predispositions in abiding, manipulating, accosting or even spurning the status quo ideology.

Neo-Marxist criticism of the CCCS conceives this responsive flexibility, not as a precarious

ontological premises are debatable. Its methodology begs the question because it explains institutions through their effects and its ontology falsely asserts that societies have needs that must be accommodated. Its blatant disregard of agency and its devotion to advanced welfare capitalism (Holmwood 103) are grounds for criticism from a Marxist perspective. Last but not least, feminist critics lament the fact that Functionalism overlooks feminine oppression within the family, whereas postmodernist critics are apprehensive of cultural functionalism’s claims of objectivity and its acquiescence to grand narratives because they defy the perspectival nature of perception. 15 The Marxist underpinnings are evident in the conceptualization of the media thrall in terms of class conflict that is, nevertheless, bridled within the interests of the ruling class. This approach stresses the contribution of the media in socializing the public under a false pretense of autonomy when, in fact, indoctrinating by rendering alternative interpretative systems unavailable. (Gurevitch, et al. 1).

14 extremity, but as an index to a more profound understanding of the role of the media in shaping cultural praxis.

Stuart Hall, one of the key representatives of the CCCS neo-Marxist culturalist standpoint, abides by Althusserian structuralism in downplaying economic predicates, but unlike structuralism, he accentuates sub-group conduct within the social realm. He sees the latter as “a complex expressive totality” (Curran et al. 22) whose primacy in assigning meaning renders the mass communication industry, however consequential, only subsidiary in regulating public mentality. Hall’s exaltation of ideology and his assumption that culture is sovereign, because its loose relations to social and economic foundations are incapable of mitigating its momentum, receive criticism for being to the detriment of ownership and supervision (Stevenson 35). However, Hall concurs that meaning formation is never wholly

“private” and “individual” (Hall, “Encoding/Decoding” 135). His approach coves for the semiotic theories of Ferdinard de Saussure, Claude Lévi-Strauss, and Roland Barthes,16 which provide the tools to process this formulation. Hall writes that “the so-called denotative level of the televisional sign is fixed by certain, very complex (but limited or ‘closed) codes.

But its connotative level, though also bounded, is more open, subject to more open transformations, which exploit its polysemic values” (Hall, “Encoding/Decoding” 134). The dominant reading is the hegemonic reading while the oppositional reading is performed by those aware of creeping hegemonic codes but confident in dismissing them by recontextualizing the message in a markedly adversarial frame. Finally, the negotiated reading is performed by individuals subscribing to certain parts of the dominant reading but

16 Barthes’ contribution is that “the myth-consumer takes the signification for a system of facts: myth is read as a factual system, whereas it is but a semiological system” (Mythologies 142). In fact, this has taken immense proportions since, according to Barthes, “as an ideological fact” the idea of a bourgeois class “completely disappears: the bourgeois has obliterated its name in passing from reality to representation, from economic man to mental man” (150). What is in fact left is shaped by the fact that “the bourgeoisie becomes absorbed into an amorphous universe, whose sole inhabitant is Eternal Man, who is neither proletarian nor bourgeois” (150). 15 also seeking to tailor it to their own needs. Hall’s contribution is important because it equips the individual with an active role in the decoding process.

Second, the scope of British Cultural Studies includes ethnographic studies of the ordinary and everyday subculture. These endeavours ensue from Marxist-oriented historiography and cultural anthropology, and seek to reveal the way politics and social inequality, among other parameters, shape fashion and lifestyles. Their goal is not to express apprehension about the state of culture but rather to evince youth subculture as a locus wherein the parent/dominant culture regulates conflict and perpetuates capitalism; in other words to provide an alternative, determinately superior perspective which would consider the youth as representative of its culture but also as a free agent. This approach revolts against social pedagogy and youth sociology due to their neglect of class and their endorsement of large-scale quantitative methods. Thus, the CCCS approach reveals an anti-positivist mentality that filches the authority of bourgeois science over perceptive schemas in favour of a more qualitative, relational disposition. Resistance Through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in

Post-War Britain (1976), by Stuart Hall and Tony Jefferson, exposes the symbolic nature of responses to actual circumstances, such as unemployment or alienation. This exposition occurs via the integration of the concepts of Althusser’s ideology, Gramsci’s hegemony, and of a theory of style promoted by Barthes’s French semiotics and Claude Lévi-Strauss’s structural anthropology manifesting in the conception of the bricolage. Dick Hebdige in

Subculture: TheMeaning of Style (1979) proposes that the punk movement gestures and vigorous language, for instance, offend the silent majority and thus challenge the principle of unity on which societies are based (18). In Learning to Labour (1977) Paul Willis tackles the issue of class reproduction through the study of a student group with a labour class background. 16

The basic criticism expressed by Graham Murdock and Robin McCron in

“Consciousness of Class and Consciousness of Generation” (1976) and repeated by

JulianTanner in “New Directions for Subcultural Theory: An Analysis of British Working-

Class Youth Culture” (1978), David M. Smith “New Movements in the Sociology of Youth:

A Critique” (1981), and Gary Clarke “Defending Ski-Jumpers: A Critique of Theories of

Youth Subcultures” (1982) is the emphasis CCCS places on tracing only authentic subculture and style in working-class, youth, leisure time activities thus severely delimiting the majority of working class culture. Further criticism is meted out to the methodological implications of coupling theory with an empiricist component. CCCS projects employ interviews, observation and mostly qualitative studies, which meet the approval of Tanner and Smith among others, but are reproached by critics like Clarke who find the empirical component inefficient or inappropriately processed.

Thirdly, the CCCS project includes studies concerning political ideology and the attempt to decipher the embedded cultural codes in order to account for their popularity.

Theorists resort to the work of Althusser and Gramsci to account for the way political ideologies serve the purposes of the bourgeoisie. Gradually, Gramsci’s hegemony gains ground as researchers find it less deterministic and thus more apt to capture the essence and importance of ideological conflicts. In Policing the Crisis (1978) Hall, Chas Critcher, Tony

Jefferson, John Clarke, and Brian Roberts propose that social crisis firstly manifests as moral panic which allows for a transition from a state of emancipation to a state in which personal rights are willfully relinquished.

The 1970s and 1980s are very important for British Cultural Studies. The neo-

Gramscian approach adopted by many researchers revolves around class and cultural issues.

Concurrently, one notices a fragmentation of the field of cultural studies. Race studies and feminist studies are the precursors of this internal, multiple rift. In books like Women Take 17

Issue (1978) by Women’s Studies Group Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies

(WSGCCCS), theorists accuse the field for excluding women and feminist perspectives.

Angela McRobbie is one among many dissatisfied feminist critics. She disagrees with the neglect of women’s culture evident in Hall and Jefferson’s Resistance Through Rituals

(1976), in Willis’s Learning To Labour (1977) and in Profane Culture (1978), which are considered seminal works of the CCCS. Hence, she produces counter argumnets in her works

Feminism and Youth Culture (1991) and “New Times in Cultural Studies” (1991). Scholars working on race issues express a similar complaint. The Empire Strikes Back (1982) by

CCCS and There Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack (1987) by Paul Gilroy introduce a race perspective, and urge theorists to push aside the class-riddled Gramscian model of cultural interpretation. As Stephen F. Soitos explains there are “tropes” available that can imbue “the detective text with African American cultural expressions and value systems” (28).

The turn towards postmodernist polysemy replaces the coding/decoding schema. An influential work in this direction is The Practice of Everyday Life (1974), in which Michel de

Certeau illustrates that humans react to everyday life events in ways indicative of resistance to hegemonic culture. Also very influential is Mikhail Bakhtin’s concept of the carnivalesque in Rabelais and his World (1941), and Barthes’s book The Pleasure of the Text

(1975). There is a new interest in the appropriation of texts to convey personal concerns rather than class issues seen through the Gramscian lens. Thus literary texts are no longer considered closed, determined systems. Rather, they resemble organisms that interact with their environment and are susceptible to changes in the meanings they convey.

What surfaces from this brief survey of theoretical approaches is the fact that there has been relatively little effort channeled into the sociology of popular literature, especially into readership studies. Dominic Strinati complains, “The main problem with a number of theories of popular culture is that they are textual and cultural, and not sociological or 18 historical” (244). Thus, “the future development of theories of popular culture needs to be more adequately grounded in sociology, both in its theorizing and in empirical research”

(245). My project springs from the same dissatisfaction.

A step in the right direction has been initiated by reader-response or reader-oriented theories, which according to Hans Robert Jauss, in his article “The Change in the Paradigm of Literary Scholarship,”17 have introduced “a general shift in concern from the author and the work to the text and the reader” (qtd. in Holub xii). Acknowledging the value of the reader’s contribution to text actualization — as Wolfgang Iser, the second main theorist of

Reception Theory, suggests (Range of Interpretation 41) — determines the perception of literature “as a dialectical process of production and reception” with the emphasis not only on the writer but also on “the perspective of the reader or consumer” (Holub 57).

Attention to the reader or consumer is of paramount importance because it allows for an understanding of how genre characteristics are established, besides indicating genre chances of survival. As Robert Escarpit explains, every writer faces public oblivion ten, twenty, thirty years after his death. If his or her work manages to overcome these thresholds then their survival is assured, as long, of course, as their respective value systems remain operative (Sociology of Literature 22). A corollary of this idea is that genres are not invented

(79); rather they are constantly adapted to the new demands put forward by their social context. Escarpit stresses that the adjustment of genres to their encompassing spatiotemporal and sociological circumstances does justice to the notion that the evolution of genres follows the evolution of their respective societies (79). However, he acknowledges, “No one publishing a book can foresee exactly how much attention potential readers will give it”

(Book Revolution 121). Insecurity, therefore, is the reason why publishers have books

“distributed within a small circle” of readers, “whose requirements are known and whose

17 “Paradigmawechsel in der Literaturwissenschaft” is the original title of the article. 19 preferences have been thoroughly established” (122). Publishers identify needs and create “a semi-programmed issue” so as to secure a readership and avoid economic loss. A semi- programmed issue “from the publisher’s point of view … is financially safe” (122).

The success of semi-programmed campaigns is explained by theoretical formulations concerned with the experience of the reader. Iser, for example, proposes that the meaning of the text is not dictated solely by either reader or text. Therefore, “the literary work is to be considered not as a documentary record of something that exists or has existed, but as a reformulation of an already formulated reality, which brings into the world something that did not exist before” (Act of Reading x). Iser further explains that

the literary work cannot be completely identical with the text, or with the

realization of the text, but in fact must lie halfway between the two. The work

is more than the text, for the text only takes on life when it is realized, and

furthermore the realization is by no means independent of the individual

disposition of the reader — though this in turn is acted upon by the different

patterns in the text. The convergence of text and reader brings the literary

work into existence, and this convergence can never be precisely pinpointed,

but must always remain virtual, as it is not to be identified either with the

reality of the text or with the individual disposition of the reader. (Implied

Reader 274-75)

In fact, what necessitates the reader’s involvement is the existence of gaps in the text.

According to Iser, “Whenever the reader bridges the gaps, communication begins. ... Hence the structured blanks of the text stimulate the process of ideation to be performed by the reader on terms set by the text” (Act of Reading 169).

Instrumental in Iser’s perception of aesthetic response is the fact that the “reader is meant to visualize” the “perspective view of the world (namely the author’s)” (Act of 20

Reading 35). This perspective is portrayed by “the literary text” and the reader is assisted by the fact that the latter is “composed of a variety of perspectives that outline the author’s view”: these include “the narrator, the characters, the plot, and the fictitious reader. Although these may differ in order of importance, none of them on its own is identical to the meaning of the text” (35). However, they all “provide guidelines originating from different starting points…continuously shading into each other and devised in such a way that they all converge on a general meeting place ... the meaning of the text” (35). For Iser, then, the implied reader is only one of the parameters that shape each text interpretation.

What is more, for Iser, the concept of “the implied reader” allows one to

“understand the effects caused and the responses elicited by literary works” (Act of

Reading 35). This understanding “allow[s] for the reader’s presence without in any way predetermining his character or his historical situation” but simply conceive of him or her as somebody who “embodies all those predispositions necessary for a literary work to exercise its effect — predispositions laid down, not by an empirical outside reality, but by the text itself. Consequently, the implied reader has his [or her] roots firmly planted in the structure of the text; he [or she] is a construct and in no way to be identified with any real reader” (Act of Reading 34). In contrast, the actual reader is defined as one who “receives certain mental images in the process of reading; however, the images will inevitably be coloured by the reader’s ‘existing stock of experience’”

(Selden, et al. 56).

Thus, by treating the reader as “implicit” in the text, Iser avoids the implications of having to investigate actual reader reactions. But in so doing he reduces the reader to a dimension of the text, merely an extension, by confining the role of the reader within the reading process and by refusing to grant it freedom or dominancy. Iser “attempt[s] 21 to lay the foundations for a theory of literary effects and responses based on … actual texts” rather than on “an aesthetics that is predominantly abstract and conditioned by philosophy” (Implied Reader xii). However, he reverses the process when it comes to the issue of readership because he retains a high degree of abstractness. He defines his

“implied reader” in relation to “active participation” (Implied Reader xii) seen in a different, rather restricting light. Iser suggests that the implied reader “incorporates both the pre-structuring of the potential meaning by the text, and the reader’s actualization of this potential through the reading process. It refers to the active nature of this process

— which will vary historically from one age to another — and not to a typology of possible readers” (Implied Reader xii).

Iser takes a phenomenological approach to reveal the mechanics of interpretation and consequently “decontextualizes and dehistoricizes text and reader” (Selden, et al. 55). In contrast, Jauss opts for an aesthetics of reception that is removed from the representational model of objectivist literary criticism. He deals with “the problem of literary theory, which was left unresolved in the dispute between Marxist and Formalist methods” (Aesthetic of

Reception 18). Jauss states that he

attempt[s] to bridge the gap between literature and history, between historical

and aesthetic approaches, [and] begins at the point at which both schools stop.

Their methods conceive the literary fact within the closed circle of an

aesthetics of production and of representation. In doing so, they deprive

literature of a dimension that inalienably belongs to its aesthetic character as

well as to its social function: the dimension of its reception and influence.

(Aesthetic of Reception 18)

Jauss’s belief that “the quality and rank of a literary work result neither from the biographical conditions of its origin [Enstehung], nor from its place in the sequence of the 22 development of a genre alone, but rather from the criteria of influence, reception, and posthumous fame” (Aesthetic of Reception 5) reintroduces the reader in the literary process.

Thus, for Jauss, “The historical life of a literary work is unthinkable” without the reader’s

“active participation” (19), as this “dialogical character … establishes why philological understanding can exist only in a perpetual confrontation with the text, and cannot be allowed to be reduced to a knowledge of facts” (21).

For Jauss there is the ‘horizon of expectations,’ an “objectifiable system of expectations that arises for each work in the historical moment of its appearance, from a pre- understanding of the genre, from the form and themes of already familiar works, and from the opposition between poetic and practical language” (Aesthetic of Reception 22). Thus, for

Jauss, “The literary work predisposes its audience to a very specific kind of reception by announcements, overt and covert signals, familiar characteristics, or implicit allusions” (23) through a “horizon of expectations and rules familiar from earlier texts” (23). In other words, the horizon of expectations comprises “literary data that allow one to ascertain a specific disposition of the audience for each work (a disposition which precedes the psychological reaction as well as the subjective understanding of the individual reader)” (22-23). Aesthetic experience is, then, for Jauss not “an arbitrary sequence of merely subjective impressions” because, as he claims, “The psychic process in the reception of a text is, in the primary horizon of aesthetic experience, by no means [the] only” defining parameter but is succeeded by “the carrying out of specific instructions in a process of directed perception, which can be comprehended according to its constitutive motivations and triggering signals, and which also can be described by a textual linguistics” (23). The text with its instructions “awakens memories of that which was already read, brings the reader to a specific emotional attitude, and with its beginning arouses expectations for the ‘middle and end,’ [expectations] which 23 can then be maintained intact or altered, reoriented, or even fulfilled ironically in the course of the reading according to specific rules of the genre or type of text” (23).

Thus, it becomes clear that Reader-Response theory or reader-oriented theories signify an approach to the processes of reading and meaning-formation primarily through the spectrum of Iser’s ‘implied reader’ in the text or through Jauss’s reconstructed ‘horizon of expectations’ based on historical data. Only a few scholars point out, however indirectly, the need to study what actual readers think. According to Robert Escarpit, “From a sociological perspective … as a literary success, can be defined the kind of literary text, the book that expresses what the recipients expected, which reveals the characteristics of the recipient team, and which reveals to the team who exactly they are” (Sociology of Literature 125). But

I believe that reader expectations can only be inferred from the reactions of readers themselves.

Janice Radway’s Reading the Romance (1984) has been the first and most influential attempt to study actual readers of popular literature because it focuses on middle class women’s reading practices and introduces, in her own words, a “Feminist critique to bear on the discipline, on the academic habitus, and on the dominant regime of literary value — something that neither Bourdieu’s sociology of taste nor the institutionalist sociologies of the university managed to do” (English xi). Radway’s work subscribes to a poststructuralist and postmodernist perspective as it stresses the reader’s autonomy. The freedom to appropriate texts for one’s own purposes is tantamount to the freedom to construct new or alternative readings. The latter also involve enjoyment and a game quality both inextricably intertwined with such an approach to reading. Radway’s women do not espouse the patriarchal values in the texts they read. Instead, their very act of reading subverts those values. These women have recourse to fictitious worlds in order to satisfy the need for peace and quiet during a hard day or/and in order to embark on vicarious journeys of a more agreeable lifestyle. Thus, 24

Radway’s main contribution is her point that texts can be manipulated by readers in order to satisfy their own needs, even in directions contrary to authorial intentions (in case that those intentions can be documented). Books following Radway’s example of associating gender and reading practices include Elizabeth Long’s Book Clubs: Women and the Uses of Reading in Everyday Life (2003), Dawn H. Currie’s Girl Talk: Adolescent Magazines and their

Readers (1999), and Iris Parush’s Reading Jewish Women: Marginality and Modernization in

19th-Century Eastern European Jewish Society (2004). But these are hardly the sole concerns. The sociology of literature, according to James English, has also been conversant with asking

the questions of who reads and why to other groups of readers that were

neglected or diminished in the traditional optics of literary study. For example,

sociologist Wendy Griswold in her work Bearing Witness: Readers, Writers,

and the Novel in Nigeria, has extended the reach of such questions to Africa,

describing, among others, the ‘hard-core group of committed readers’ in

Nigeria: readers so far on the periphery of Anglophone culture that they were

effectively invisible to literary scholars before her interventions. (xi)

These studies try to make clear that audiences are not homogenous. Griswold’s work allows invisible reading practices to become known and covert reading audiences to be acknowledged. This trend betrays a postmodernist turn. The deconstruction of the audience into groups with diverse needs and thus diverse reading practices entrenches itself in contemporary British Cultural Studies. It is evident as early as John Fiske’s Television

Culture (1987) or John Hartley’s “Invisible Fictions: Television Audiences, Paedocracy and

Pleasure” (1987). However, in the latter, Hartley suggests that the audience is merely a player intellectually and culturally framed by a particular discourse. Discourse involves deliberation. Consequently, the player merely promotes or reflects the fabricated demands of 25 particular powerful agents. For Griswold, Terry McDonnell, and Nathan Wright the great impact of Reading the Romance and subsequent work capitalizing on its innovatory nature is based on treating “reading as a social practice” and on seeking to investigate questions about

“who reads what, how people read, and how their reading relates to their other activities”

(127). Unfortunately, however, as English suggests,

few if any literary scholars have modeled their actual programs of research

after Radway’s. Reading the Romance was, we should recall, an empirical,

questionnaire-based study. Its questionnaires were not distributed in the

manner of a rigorously designed scientific survey; there were no sample

groups or regression analyses, and no charts or diagrams. Data gleaned from

the questionnaires were supplemented by interviews and other qualitative

ethnographic research, which largely shaped the analysis. Still, it was a book

that proposed a clear line of departure from the normative protocols of literary

study, charting a new methodological path in the direction of the social

sciences. (xiv)

Radway’s Reading the Romance revealed a new path in the sociology of literature. Sadly, though, “It has been a path not taken” (xiv). English also discusses Franco Moretti’s

“Conjectures on World Literature” and Graphs, Maps, Trees. In these works, he suggests that

the departure from normative methods and the turn to social science are cast in

far more polemical terms than in Radway’s. Moretti denounces close reading

and the devotion to a small canon of texts as “theological” practices, and calls

explicitly for a more “scientific” approach to literary history, a project of

“distant reading” that combines large-scale data sets, abstract models drawn

from mathematics and biology, and heavy reliance on the visual display of

quantitative information. … Moretti’s work …has prompted much debate and 26

discussion about the uses of data and mathematical models in literary study.

What it hasn’t done is to inspire other literary scholars to adopt his

quantitative methods as part of a new model of practice. On the contrary,

Moretti’s provocations, however scintillating, have tended to reinforce the

false but pervasive perception of a great divide between literature and

sociology, with the former all irrational devotion and interpretative finesse and

the latter all scientific rigor and verifiable “results.” (English xiv)

As John Frow proposes, the biggest problem appears to be the arbitrariness of the “process by which units of analysis are constituted” which should be “neither given in advance nor arbitrarily constructed by an analytic choice, but are, rather, necessarily implicated in and derived from a process of reading and interpretation. If this is true, then the interpretive methods of literary analysis are not distinct from those of a sociological understanding but are its necessary precondition” (239).

At this point it is helpful to summarise the basic issues arising throughout the evolution of the sociology of culture. Distancing itself from a Marxist-inspired methodology implicating the hierarchical and subordinate relationship of the superstructure to the economic base, British Cultural Studies nonetheless embrace overtly political left-wing views and criticisms of popular culture and the culture industry or mass culture advanced by the Frankfurt School. In the 1970s, British Cultural Studies accommodate an interest in

Gramsci’s conception of cultural hegemony and Althusser’s ideology. These insertions modify classical Marxist tenets in that they initiate an understanding of culture as instrumental in practices aiming at political and social manipulation. Scholars in this trend consider everyday or popular culture the vehicle of dominant culture and thus dangerous.

However, they counter cultural hegemony by endowing the receivers of culture with a mind of their own and an energetic disposition. Cultural hegemony administrates social order via 27 class alliances to which lower classes voluntarily succumb in order to promote some of their own — at times fabricated from above — interests. In the 1990s, however, endowing of ordinary readers with powerful agency is criticized, because not all cultural scholars share the conviction that consumers can invariably create subversive readings of cultural artifacts. Yet, scholars do not wholeheartedly adhere to the liberal-pluralist tradition of American Cultural

Studies or feminist approaches and they suggest that the producer of a commodity or artwork forever controls reader actualizations of meaning. Thus, a shift emerges from the process of production to that of consumption and identity formation. Another prominent debate concerns the lack of scientific method in the validation of cultural assumptions.

It becomes apparent that the plurality of discourse on popular literature ranges from a dismissive perception of unworthiness or nothingness to the neo-pragmatist argument that privileges the role of the interpretative community. Given the diversity of approaches to popular culture, my intention in this dissertation is to explore the reception of popular literature, popular detective fiction in particular, in a systematic manner. Although I am indebted to the work done in the area of Reception Theory, which consists primarily of the introduction of the reader in the literary process, the approach I am proposing is significantly different and I believe valuable precisely due to this difference. Reception Theory rests content with stressing the role of the reader but largely ignores the significance of the fact that the reader in the schemas of both Iser and Jauss remains at best a dimension of the text.

Thus, in Iser’s formulations reading pleasure is derived from the mechanics of the relationships of all the intratextual dimensions, the reader being one of them, and in Jauss’s formulations reading pleasure involves the reconstruction of a ‘horizon of expectations’ of an abstract entity.

The path I intend to follow for the current project is the one charted by Janice

Radway, whose work allows the reader to break outside of textual confines. I espouse, 28 therefore, the study of actual readers to reveal the mechanics of pleasure in relation to detective fiction, which may help to shed light on reader preferences and the description of genre and subgenre categorization and characteristics. Moreover, I intend to complement this sociological analysis with a dynamic model accounting for the aesthetic codes and structures associated with popular detective fiction. My thesis is informed by what I regard as an urgency not to employ cultural artifacts as explanatory systems but as instances or occurrences needing themselves explanation. The theoretical tradition of reception makes it clear that the ideological plane is never indifferent to the surrounding circumstances. Besides testing the validity of this hypothesis on my material, my job in the present thesis is also to examine whether reader preferences betray historical continuities of forms and structures.

This twofold objective might help to explain the consistent reader fascination with popular detective fiction.

In order to do so, I start with the specific. I examine an Internet discussion group,

DorothyL “a unique community of mystery lovers” in the words of Joseph Scarpato.18

DorothyL provides an opportunity to study the reader not as a dimension of the text but as one who has jumped outside the text claiming his/her autonomy to the extent that this is possible. Moreover, DorothyL allows for the reconstruction of a horizon of expectations of the posters based on their own writings, on the one hand, and accommodates the application of a more systematic methodology, on the other.

18 All references to Joseph Scarpato are from the same online article “DorothyL: A Unique Community of Mystery Lovers” which is found on L-Soft.com at . From here onwards I will simply mention the name Scarpato in order not to tire the reader with repetitive footnotes. 29

Chapter Two

What the Critics Say about Detective Fiction

From those newcomers who are to be recognized as, let’s say, critics —‘recognized’ in both senses of the word: identified as critics and granted the right to talk and pass judgements on literary matters — certain investments are demanded. Not only investments in reading and writing: the newcomers must have made acquaintances with certain people and intellectual milieus. They must have acquired enough knowledge about past and current struggles inside the field to be capable of distinguishing the legitimate or applicable themes of discussion, the appropriate styles of talking about literature — and the styles of reading literature. Donald Broady, “French Prosopography”

Early critics of detective fiction, during the 1930s and 1940s, place particular emphasis on its plot structure and narrative techniques to illustrate the genre’s uniqueness, a uniqueness created by the authors who seek to establish a career. In this period, detective fiction is seen as an intellectual puzzle, as the most basic form of narrative structured by causality and cohesion, which can never acquire a high-brow status. The ‘whodunit’ reigns supreme. Critics focus on the dexterity of authors that seek to infuse with subtle clues and red herrings a game of literary fair play. Authors provide a clear statement of what can be deemed acceptable or permissible ways of attempting the kind of deception that may guide the reader through a pleasurable exercise in ratiocination.

In 1941, Howard Haycraft publishes one of the first critical histories of the genre,

Murder for Pleasure. In this work, he attributes the popularity of detective fiction to the idea that “no man shall be convicted of crime in the absence of reasonable proof, safe-guarded by known, just, and logical rules,” thus implying a link between society and culture (313). His second work, The Art of the Mystery Story (1946), sees all early efforts to a critical appraisal of detective fiction, dating back as far as 1883, as clustered around the common denominator of this practical perception of the genre that might best explain and sustain its popularity.

However, he argues, it is not until the early twentieth century, when the transition from a 30 realistic perception to a modernist appreciation of reality accompanied by a privileging of aesthetic judgment is gaining ground, that detective fiction starts to supersede its status as inferior literature. With the advent of modernism, scholars perceive the aesthetically inferior in terms of melodrama or sensation story, as is the case with Anna Katharine Green’s 1878 mystery tale, “The Leavenworth Case”; they condemn this tale because they find its literary style “unbelievably stilted and melodramatic by modern standards” and Green’s

“characterizations forced and artificial” (Haycraft, Murder for Pleasure 85). Only by dispensing with the melodramatic can detective fiction become the recipient of critical attention focused on the artifice of the genre. This is vital because for critics like Haycraft the skilful machination of literary stratagems ensures detective fiction popularity.

As early as 1925, Gilbert Keith Chesterton in his G. K.’s Weekly, a British publication he founded in 1925 and continued until his death in 1936, proposes that detective fiction must follow certain rules that can sustain its artifice, its puzzle structure, because “the detective story is only a game” (Spice of life 19). Consequently each character, for instance, must have a particular functionality in the narrative, suggesting that “over and above any little crimes he may intend to indulge in … he must have already some other justification as a character in a story and not only as a mere miserable material person in real life” (19).

A systematization of the rules is provided in late 1928 by S. S. Van Dine’s (i.e.,

Willard Huntington Wright’s) “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories” and the

“Detective Story Decalogue” included by Ronald A. Knox in his “Introduction” to the collection Best Detective Stories of the Year 1928 published in 1929. Members of the

Detection Club have to abide by such rules in order to ensure the practice of fair play. Van

Dine, however, demands more than the fair presentation of clues; no tricks should be played upon the reader that the sleuth does not face as well. He is opposed to distractions in the form of love interests, to the identification of the detective with the culprit, and to the 31 existence of more than one detective or criminal. The criminal’s presence must be significant in the story; thus he or she should not be a servant, and his or her identification should be arrived at by purely naturalistic means, as should be the method of the crime. Moreover, this way, the story may mirror the reader’s everyday life and provide an outlet for his repressed desires, emotions and thoughts. Additionallly, although verisimilitude should be ensured via sufficient description of characters and setting, it should not be overstressed by means of commentary on secondary issues or by long passages on setting, atmosphere, or characters, which would disrupt the flow of the action. Last but not least, Van Dine demands that certain overused devices be cast out: forged fingerprints, twin culprits, locked-room murders after the intrusion by the police, ciphers or code letter, or the performing of a seance to frighten the criminal into admitting his or her culpability, among others (“Twenty Rules” 267-72). Knox adds that the detective must be mentioned from the start, there must be only one secret room or passage, and no new poisons or appliances that would demand long descriptions. As for the resolution of conflict, Knox abhors the involvement of vicious Chinamen, accidental happenings and appearance of twins or doubles out of the blue. Finally, the assistant of the detective must be slightly less clever than the reader and must not conceal his or her thoughts

(“Introduction” xi-xiv).

For early critics setting is also important. “The plot must appear to be an actual record of events springing from the terrain of its operations; and the plans and diagrams so often encountered in detective stories aid considerably in this effect,” as Van Dine proposes

(“Great Detective Stories” 38). According to Wystan Hugh Auden “nature should reflect its human inhabitants i.e., it should be the Great Good Place; for the more Eden-like it is, the greater the contradiction of murder” (“Guilty Vicarage” 19). Thomson further explains the necessity for a contrast between serene setting and disruptive murder: “The murder in a detective story should come unexpectedly. Unexpectedly that is to those concerned. It 32 should also be committed in the last place in the world you would expect it to be. Thus, a murder in the grotesque place has additional virtue. It surprises, it amuses, it takes us by storm” (45).

These rules, though clearly infused with a teasing streak, betray the contemporary perception of detective fiction as merely a ratiocinative exercise, providing pleasure through the game quality it displays. They are, in general terms at least, respected by contemporary authors such as Dorothy L. Sayers, , and Ellery Queen. The most daunting feat facing the writer then was procuring difference within a rather formulaic genre, something which can only be achieved through innovation and imagination that does not stretch its boundaries beyond breaking point. Instead, by retaining the cornerstones of nineteenth-century realistic fiction, manifesting as a tightly-woven plot, they cater for a smooth transition to a new genre by providing the necessities for identification with what is already familiar. The concurrent critical emphasis on the same characteristics, and the resultant critical appreciation of works that display such concern for an orderly plot, suggests that the ingenuity and partial insight that detective fiction employs to construct its puzzles of ratiocination is but a new cloak for an old gown. Thus, critics of the time see detective fiction as bearing the most basic characteristics of literature, as the sleuth and the narrative content are modeled on age-old schemas of the savior-hero who after a plethora of hardships and difficulties ensures stability. The perception of the detective is that he or she is a guardian of the moral boundaries of a fictional world, thus betraying a belief in or at least a yearning for an idyllic state of perpetual order and safety, a notion that psychoanalytic critics capitalise on. 19 William O. Aydelotte in “The Detective Story as a Historical Source” (1949)

19 Psychoanalytic theorists account for the notion of order in the detective story in various ways. Van Dine extols detective fiction because “it privileges optimism in the battle between good and evil as it demonstrates the boons of civilization triumphing over criminality and anarchy (“Defence of Detective Stories” 4). Nicholas Blake suggests that detective fiction stories are popular because for readers, who during the reading process identify with both sleuth and criminal, they constitute folk myths aimed at balancing “the light and dark sides” (“Detective Story—Why?” 400), thus relieving them of guilt. Similarly, Auden proposes that the appeal is to 33 drawing on current Freudian theory, suggests that after World War II, “The detective story does not reflect order, but expresses on the fantasy level a yearning for order; it suggests, then, a disordered world, and its roots are to be sought in social disintegration rather than in social cohesion” (324). Detective fiction then allows “disturbing evidence of psychological tensions, and of the prevalence in our modern western culture of elements of character- structure which do not provide adequate support for democratic institutions” (324) to surface.

So, what is perceived as the double-faceted nature of detective fiction, qualifying as the finest example of an intellectual puzzle and a narrative accommodating age-old fears at the same time, is a feat worthy of critical attention. This is why critics direct attention to the narrative strategies that writers skillfully employ to disorientate the reader but also make him or her realise that the resolution brings together all the elements that seem extraneous or divergent while reading.

However, there are dissenting voices. For example, in 1930 Anthony Berkeley Cox suggests that the detective story of the future would hold readers “less by mathematics than by psychological ties” (qtd. in Haycraft, Murder for Pleasure 147). A year later, under the pseudonym Francis Iles, he attempted this change in Malice Aforethought, thus ignoring all rules and heralding the potential that thrillers and spy stories later exploit. For instance,

Chandler, whose plots were rambling and incoherent, but whose settings and prose were vivid and interesting, dispensed with the game quality in his work. Also indicative of the canon of dissent is Chandler’s proclamation, “Fiction in any form has always intended to be realistic” (Simple Art of Murder 977). Chandler further claimed that if detective fiction “gave

the reader’s “sense of sin,” as “the illusion of being dissociated from the murderer” caters for “the fantasy of being restored to the Garden of Eden” (“Guilty Vicarage” 24). Other critics associate the notion of order and sin with the primal scene. According to Geraldine Pederson-Krag detective fiction allows the reader to identify with both criminal and detective which evokes the complex psychological implication of witnessing the primal scene. Thus, the reader/voyeur of “the scene of parental coitus” manages “to gratify his [or her] infantile curiosity with impunity, redressing completely the helpless inadequacy and anxious guilt remembered from childhood” (63).

34 murder back to the kind of people that commit it for reasons, not just to provide a corpse, and with the means at hand, not with hand-wrought dueling pistols, curare, and tropical fish”

(989) then this would make better fiction. It is obvious that the first phase of detective fiction criticism ends by having established an interest in ‘hardboiled’ realism and ‘whodunit’ ritual.

In Thomas Leitch’s words, “Chandler’s passionate partisanship of hard-boiled fiction’s proletarian realism … established a conflict between realistic and ritualistic impulses — the tendency toward photographic or psychological realism versus the tendency toward the revelatory structure of dream, myth, and fairy tale — that serves as a backdrop for the theories of crime” (56).

World War II marks the beginning of a decline in the critical interest in detective fiction, which is later reinforced by the concurrent waning authority of both ‘whodunit’ and

‘hardboiled.’ Edmund Wilson’s “Who Cares Who Murdered Roger Ackroyd,” published in

The New Yorker in 1945 testifies to this decline. A reason for the dwindling interest may be the fact that, in the face of the atrocities of World War II, the serene, safe and orderly world that early detective fiction ensures is no longer felt to be realistic and is thus stripped of familiarity; consequently detective fiction’s cornerstone, namely reason, is no longer conceptually viable as the best means of solving problems. Accordingly, the rigidity of strictly reasonable guidelines structuring the ratiocinative game of fair play, resolving mysteries, and accounting for reader interest and pleasure is deemed superficial and thus eclipsed by other pursuits in the criticism that follows.

The second major period of detective-fiction studies, following the work of Vladimir

Propp, Algirdas Julien Greimas, and Claude Lévi–Strauss who look for basic deep structures in stories, myths, and anecdotes, is concurrent with the advent of structuralism in the 1960s.

Structuralism introduces a different agenda since it inculcates the indispensability of an encompassing structure, either a genre, a universal narrative structure, intertextual elements, 35 or recurrent systematic patterns or motifs (Barry 39-60). This structure is perceived as a

“grammar of literature” whose mechanics is learnt at educational institutions and must be revealed (Selden, et al., 76) because it is instrumental in reading pleasure and renders detective fiction respectable reading for the cognoscenti. If early critics designate the logical game of fair play as what makes detective fiction understandable and thus popular, then the structurally-oriented critics of the second phase engage in more academic pursuits which attribute reader interest and detective-fiction popularity to the actualization of a certain interpretation, a certain way of reading that is respectful of a single, primary narrative pattern. Eco in his work “Narrative Structures in Fleming” (1966), for instance, reveals such an underlying grammar of narrative that accounts for all of the James Bond novels, a grammar whose systematic nature urges readers to read mechanically according to a pattern of preset dispositions and whose familiarity is what allows them to draw pleasure from it and makes detective fiction popular.20

Like the Russian formalists, then, structurally-oriented critics of the 1960s, or later, ground their studies on a systematic theory. They suggest that detective fiction, just like myths and folktales in earlier times, discloses what Peter Brooks calls “the structure of all narrative” (25). This structure manifests in the existence of basic traits like the multiplicity of narrative levels and the text-within-a-text structure, or structures that sustain or refute reader

20 Eco has contributed another important piece, “The Myth of Superman” in which he elaborates on the iterative scheme of popular culture as characterised by “‘aesthetic universality,’ a capacity to serve as a reference point for behavior and feelings which belong to us all” (332), in other words, “a fixed schematism involving the same sentiments and the same psychological attitudes” (339) to certain characteristics: “Vices, gestures, nervous tics [that] permit us to find an old friend in the character portrayed, and they are the principal conditions which allow us to ‘enter into’ the event” (339). Thus, Eco concludes that pleasure, that is, “The attraction of the book, the sense of repose, of psychological extension … lies in the fact that … the reader continuously recovers, point by point, what he already knows, what he wants to know again” and “the distraction consists … in a withdrawal from the tension of past-present-future to the focus on an instant, which is loved because it is recurrent” (340). This repose, helps to vicariously postpone the dreaded “step[s] toward death” (335-36). As a result, “The taste for the iterative scheme is presented then as a taste for redundance” (341) because, as Eco further explains, “In a contemporary industrial society, …everything can be summed up under the sign of a continuous load of information” (341). Moreover, “Narrative of a redundant nature would appear in this panorama as … the only occasion of true relaxation offered to the consumer. Conversely, ‘superior’ art only proposes schemes in evolution, grammars which mutually eliminate each other, and codes of continuous alternations” (341), which is tiresome for the readership.

36 expectations, as Susan Elizabeth Sweeney in “Locked Rooms: Detective Fiction, Narrative

Theory, and Self-Reflexivity” (1990) suggests. Another basic trait according to Peter Hühn in “The Detective as Reader: Narrativity and Reading Concepts in Detective Fiction” (1987) is the textually embedded reader, in other words the detective, whose function is to assist the actual reader in their personal sleuthing for meaning and resolution.

Another group of critics, borrowing from Northrop Frye’s theory of genres, employ mythic archetypes to talk about detective fiction and establish its subgenres as variations of older literature thus endorsing literary continuity. George Grella argues that the classic detective novel remains one of the last manifestations of the comedy of manners (41). Rick

A. Eden in “Detective Fiction as Satire” (1983) argues that Grella is wrong to attribute the classic detective story to the comedy of manners and the hard-boiled story to romance. “What engages us,” Eden suggests, “is the satiric action of the detective exposing the real, sordid nature of the meretricious society in which the murder occurred” (279) in both subgenres.

Sally Munt explains that by following Eden’s “understanding [of] detective fiction as satire, one can see the change from formal [‘whodunit’] to hard-boiled as an evolution from

Horatian to Juvenalian satire” (194).

Structurally-oriented efforts to establish a formal descriptive narrative system for detective fiction apply methods that can be used for high-brow genres as well, thus gradually validating the detective-fiction genre as legitimate literature and fit for study. The game of trying to lead the reader astray, an act of initial divergence before the final convergence upon resolution of the conflict, which the first phase of detective fiction criticism valorizes, is now replaced by the necessity to appreciate the converging nature of each detective fiction story to a single unitary pattern shared by all detective stories and potentially all literature, however sophisticated. 37

Structurally-minded critics study how a text reaches resolution by eliminating all narrative conundrums that sustain its structure and effect suspense, an approach privileged during the first phase of detective fiction criticism, or how texts may be categorised along the lines of a common structure, often perceiving a deviation in terms of inversion of a certain pattern.

Tzvetan Todorov illustrates the latter in “The Typology of Detective Fiction” (1977).

Todorov makes a distinction between story and discourse,21 that is, the actual linear story of events and the mediated, printed tale whose twists and turns the reader enjoys. It is precisely this mediation that leads Todorov to define three types of subgenres of detective fiction, the

‘whodunit,’ the ‘thriller,’ and the ‘suspense,’ and explain what differentiates them. The reorganization of events in the discourse entails that authors “employ the intermediary of another (or the same) character who will report, in the second story, the words heard or the actions observed” in real life (45). What the reader gets in terms of narrative modes, therefore, is “temporal inversions and individual ‘points of view’: the tenor of each piece of information is determined by the person who transmits it, no observation exists without an observer” and “the author cannot by definition be omniscient” (46). The amount of information disclosed or the time at which this happens in the discourse is instrumental for the construction of various subgeneric patterns. Thus, Todorov proffers another way in which literary continuity may be traced. He explains that each “new genre is created around an element which was not obligatory in the old one” (48) and which results in the formulation of two distinct structures, the ‘whodunit’ and the ‘thriller’ (‘hardboiled’). In his schema, “The contemporary thriller has been constituted not around a method of presentation but around

21 Donna Bennett in “The Detective Story: Towards a Definition of Genre” (1979) follows a similar approach. She locates a core event which she defines as the meeting place of the actual investigation and a partially present crime story, never fully revealed by discourse, thus allowing readers to vicariously follow the sleuthing game of inferences aimed to sustain an indispensable sense of mystery and enigma which demand a special kind of narration. This narrative schema privileges fragmentation, distraction, ambiguity all strategically employed to forestall resolution and closure so as to prolong reading pleasure. 38 the milieu represented, around specific characters and behavior; in other words, its constitutive character is in its themes” (48). In contrast to the ‘whodunit,’ in the ‘thriller,’

“the narrative coincides with the action” and “there is no point reached where the narrator comprehends all past events, we do not even know if he will reach the end of the story alive.

Prospection takes the place of retrospection” (48). According to Todorov, the ‘thriller’ introduces a new kind of interest for the reader, impossible to achieve in the ‘whodunit,’ which sought to maintain the reader’s interest via “curiosity” and had the sleuth intact throughout the story. In the ‘thriller’ “interest is sustained by the expectation of what will happen, that is, certain effects (corpses, crimes, fights)” made possible by the fact that “the detective risks his health, if not his life” (48) and the element of mystery “has a secondary function, subordinate and no longer central as in the whodunit” (48).

For all its systematic nature, structural criticism of detective fiction is accused of ahistoricity. Few critics disagree with Robert Champigny that the ‘whodunit,’ disregarding

“social, political, cultural ideological backgrounds” creates “an appropriately tailored setting” (9) that renders reality unintelligible. Larry Landrum believes that Todorov sees detective fiction “as subliterature or as a form of literature that lends itself without resistance to ideological appropriation” (79), facilitated by the fact that his “practice of reducing narrative to its simplest mechanisms …allows theorists and critics to construct more controlled and stable models” (79). Nels Pearson and Marc Singer believe that in Todorov’s approach, “external (social, political, economic, cultural) history, if it is considered at all, is taken to have no bearing upon developments in literary history, which proceed only according to the internal logics of form and genre” (1). For them, there is a serious implication: “By interpreting the genre solely as a representative of or test case for formalist and structuralist principles,” structurally-inspired criticism “has relegated such concepts as society, law, criminality, or morality to a strictly abstract plane—a realm of generalization 39 made possible in part by the relatively stable status of these terms within the achieved state, and by the desire to universalise these concepts which lies at the foundation of the imperial state” (1).

Privileging structure, however, sells short the importance of character development or narrative voice by suggesting that the reader can only be engaged by the introduction of a new structure or more commonly an inversion of a given one rather than character or social environment. Marxist-inspired critic Ernst Kaemmel argues that, despite the fact that detective fiction may be utilised as a socialist tool able to reveal the economic nature of all crime, the ‘hardboiled,’ for instance, dazes critical thinking. This leads to “the decline of detective literature [which] began when, instead of Sherlock Holmes, Nick Carter and the tribe of the Carters appeared on a lower level in cheap magazines” (60), as a reaction to the lack of further potential for plot variation in the ‘whodunit.’

The circumscription of critical momentum is facilitated by the fact that a distancing is effected between the reader and the reading material. According to Helmut Heissenbüttel, in order to privilege the basic structure, referentiality in terms of relationships, topoi, or even the dead body is limited. In particular, the latter “loses its conclusiveness” (91) and becomes unable to solidify group-bonding as in the previous era when it personified the group’s assurance of resolution of conflicts and social cohesion (92), when, in other words, the

“constitution of the group is purchased at the expense of the victim’s death” (88). In this phase, one observes a reconception of detective fiction in a more sociological light. This reconception involves a rejection of the detective as a religious savior figure, in contrast to earlier formulations by Chesterton and Sayers. It also involves a salvaging of the emotional, familial or economic affinities with the victim. However, “the “molecular affinities which structure late bourgeois society” and appear as the “last sociological cement between the individual persons in a situation in which class divisions no longer exist and despotic 40 methods are not yet binding enough” (Heissenbüttel 88), are not enough to firmly ground such a sociological reconception. Social bonding is not crucial enough to overcome structural considerations at this stage of detective-fiction criticism. For Marxist-inspired critics, privileging a socially-aware mentality can awaken the reader to the falsity of economic dealings within a given social frame and sensitise him/her to a more critical mode, neither of which are valid concerns for the prevalent structurally-oriented criticism of the

1960s.

The third phase of detective-fiction criticism spans from the 1970s to the present and is characterised by an interest in the way detective fiction ensures stability by reproducing mentalities and notions, a trend that intertwines fiction and society. Marxist critics like

Stephen Knight, Dennis Porter and D.A. Miller,22 among others, propose that, as detective fiction familiarises the readership with the notion of crime, policing and controlling of transgression, it constitutes a discursive practice that grounds western capitalist society. This casts detective fiction in a purely reflexive role. If such popular fiction is a mere instrument of the hegemony of the western modernist mentality, then it is open to a postmodernist challenge to its epistemology, an epistemology that tends “to interpret social and cognitive processes in universal and hence [supposedly] egalitarian terms” (Pearson and Singer11).

Postmodernist criticism attempts “to elaborate the experience of marginal, hybrid, subaltern, and effectively stateless subjects into a policy of difference that eradicates the presumptive universality of western rationalism” (Pearson and Singer 11). In this sense, it is long overdue for critics of the third phase; especially since the modernist inscription has become dexterously subtle, manifesting in the fact that detective stories “moved ... from the physical confrontation to the intellectual struggle between criminal and investigator”

(Foucault 69). This subtlety indicates for Martin A. Kayman that detective fiction “very

22 See Miller’s Material Culture and Mass Consumption (1987) and The Novel and the Police (1988). 41 clearly, aims to silence” the “sort of critical narrative of social and personal authority, of discourse, ideology, sexuality, and of science and fiction which has been the monstrous sub- text of the popular literature” (240). For critics like Joel Black, the silence that detective fiction promotes produces a “customary experience of murder and other forms of violence that is primarily aesthetic rather than moral, physical, natural or whatever term we choose as a synonym for the word, real” (3), thus rendering causal connections unintelligible.

Theorisation of such causal unintelligibility, for instance, in Fredric Jameson’s assertion that the detective story is “a form without ideological content, without any overt political or social or philosophical point” (“On Raymond Chandler” 124) is supplemented during the third phase. The socially-aware criticism of R. Gordon Kelly who suggests that

“ can be said to be engaged in the larger, ongoing process of reproducing cultural categories and making and sustaining meaning” (154) prevails. The task of such critics is not only to expose the mechanics of orchestration23 but also to establish that detective fiction “plays a powerful integrative role among all but extremely critical and sophisticated readers” (Mandel 47).

While, then, previous critical stances attempt to explain the popularity of detective fiction largely through myth and allegory and economic determinism, from the 1970s onwards a discourse-oriented approach introduces political and discursive dimensions aimed at primarily exposing socio-psychological characteristics rather than studying text structure.24 Critics of the third phase, then, seek to expose the historical and social relevance

23 They reveal for example, that the thriller’s “essence of ideology is not to give false answers to real problems, but to pose problems in such a (false) way that the recommendations one wished to make in the first place appear to correspond to a real problem” (J. Palmer 204), or in Mandel’s views, “The reduction of crime, if not of human problems themselves, to ‘mysteries’ that can be solved is symbolic of a behavioural and ideological trend typical of capitalism” since readers “enjoy detective stories without altering their views” (Mandel 16). 24 Indeed, during this phase of detective-fiction criticism there is a shift from the rationalization of the structurally-oriented reading habits of academics as the source of pleasure to a bifurcated conceptualization of reading practice proffered by Eco in The Role of the Reader (1966). The first strand refers to the escapist reading that Eco grounds in familiarity with prominent features of texts, emotional engagement and concreteness, which is believed to account for the majority of the readership of detective fiction. The second is the sophisticated reading approach which involves the skill to break through the facade of prominent, recurrent 42 of detective fiction,25 the “natural, social and psychological pathologies” that foster the birth of a biased literary field. According to Kayman, this is “a field constructed by exclusion” and involves a heavy “price of social and personal repression” of the Other. This “justifies control [of] the poor, the unemployed, the migrant, the factory worker, the criminal, the insane, the sick, the female, the juvenile, and the savage,” thus producing an “underworld” of horror and detection (8-9). Critics of the third phase validate a multicultural perspective in order to deal with “the existential realities of pain, anger, and resentment” in the modern world (Pepper 6). What is, in fact, dismissed during this third phase is what Bethany Ogdon defines as adherence to the notion that “moral deviance in hard-boiled detective novels is figured as physical excess, deformity, or foreignness” (Paradis 89).26

The emergence of feminism in the 1970s and 1980s also capitalizes on the perception of detective fiction as the battleground for ideological supremacy. Critics like Patricia Craig and Mary Cadogan remark that although the women sleuths who are introduced have “the power of action and practical intelligence” (246) denied women in the past, even these figures cannot alter the conservatism of the genre (232). Feminist critics such as Sandra

Tome in “Questing Women: The Feminist Mystery after Feminism,” Kenneth Paradis in

“Warshawski’s Situation: Beauvoirean Feminism and the Hard-Boiled Detective,” Jane features, devices and generic conventions and expose textual deployments that serve ideological aims and implicate ethical conundrums. For instance, John T. Irwin’s Unless the Threat of Death is Behind Them: Hard- Boiled Fiction and Film Noir (2006), subscribing to the second category, presents the complexity of psychological and moral options. 25 Kelly locates this relevance in the fact that detective fiction writers have put detective fiction to various uses by making sure that codes of modernity are reflected in detective fiction. They “have used mystery fiction as a form to think with as well as a vehicle for social commentary” (138), “to issue warnings” (139), to learn about other modes of living (140), “to assess or reckon the costs and benefits of, for example, the West’s intelligence efforts during the cold war” (140), “to exact revenge or to offer a more satisfactory conclusion to events than actually occurred,” though, in general, celebrating (e.g., an investigative stance), condemning (e.g., the corruption of investigation by political considerations), informing (e.g., about Navajo ways), assessing (e.g., the moral claims of rival intelligence services), remembering and avenging (e.g., past atrocities) admittedly capture only partially and in a very crude way the range of acts undertaken in and through the writing of mystery fiction” (141). 26 Studies, such as Frankie Y. Bailey’s Out of the Woodpile: Black Characters in Crime and Detective Fiction (1991) which discusses a wide variety of imagery of African Americans, enable an understanding of how, according to Dan D. Nimmo and James E. Combs a stereotypical “representation of perceived realities that people accept as permanent fixed knowledge of reality” (16) may entrap people into the propagation of a false cultural myth. 43

Bakerman in“Living ‘Openly and with Dignity’: Sara Paretsky’s New Hard-Boiled Feminist

Fiction,” and Maureen T. Reddy in “The Feminist Counter-Tradition in Crime: Cross,

Grafton, Paretsky and Wilson” revolt against the female objectification by a voyeuristic male, as Kayman also suggests. Similarly, Catherine Nickerson is against the trend whereby “the detective emerges as always male and always in control of the narrative, the criminal slides from the position of the dominator to the dominated, and the victim (also known as the body) is ‘despite biology, always female’” (“Murder as Social Criticism” 173). For feminist critics, these approaches “reinforce a nostalgic mythology of women’s position” (Klein 2), a patriarchal mythology, and require amendment.

Thus, critics of this phase celebrate difference by rendering largely obsolete the traditional subject position in which the contrast between self and other places the reader

“comfortably within the dominating ‘norm’ (Ogdon 84). The reader, opting for realism, does not engage in a battle of wits with a sleuth markedly different from himself or herself but one resembling his or her idiosyncrasies and lifestyle, with similar socio-cultural characteristics, carefully selected from the well of numerous possibilities and niches of detective fiction so as to enjoy a literary dramatization of the reader’s own life. What is previously defined as a field of exclusion is refuted via the valorization of realism. Verisimilitude ensures that

“theoretical assumptions” are shared “by both writer and reader” (Kayman 168). Coincidence of opinions or, to put it in other words, representational accuracy of the actual world “is a necessary element of reading pleasure” (Kelly 177) sustained by a “fit with the reader’s beliefs and moral standards” (179).

The mechanics of such an enterprise is based for Porter on Pierre Macherey’s formulation that the texts of popular genres utilize rhetorical conventions that are “familiar to the point of transparency” so that they adapt themselves “easily to the changing objects of popular anxiety” (115, 127). I would also add to efforts of manipulation. Because, then, 44 detective fiction “dramatizes the contradictory experience of modernity,” it is “not escapist but hermeneutic; it explores what it means to be caught up in the maelstrom of modernity” (J.

Thompson 8).

Critics of the 1970s and 1980s take such ideological considerations to dictate the choice of structure and themes in order to orchestrate the legitimacy of dominant mores. For

Knight in Form and ldeology in (1980), literary texts “create and justify” the status quo, thus, “form is crucial” because ideology is embroiled in its epistemologic and ontologic infrastructure (5). Knight argues, “each work … has a special formal way of presenting the world to us” that is latent in its “overall structure,” in other words in its

“textual language, the presentation of incidents, characters and motives” (5) and when any of these elements fails to dovetail “strains or ‘fissures’” emerge. Ideology seeks to silence these fissures. Whilst, then, in previous stages of detective-fiction criticism the formal elements of detective fiction serve the pleasure-seeking reader via the well-crafted puzzle or, later, the more sophisticated structural concerns, during the 1970s and 1980s, the formal elements of the genre are no longer deemed innocent of ideological appropriation and neither is its thematic repertoire. According to Jim Collins in Uncommon cultures: Popular Culture and

Post-Modernism (1989), detective fiction accommodates dominant as well as oppositional ideologies as in the case of the misogyny-infested ‘hardboiled’ or the ethically alternative feminist ‘cosy.’

The recalibration of detective-fiction criticism to concerns associated with generic ideology functions as a framework for the exploration of ethical considerations as well.

There is a host of critics subscribing to this approach: John T. Irwin in Unless the Threat of

Death is Behind Them: Hard-Boiled Fiction and Film Noir (2006), Jameson in his article

“On Raymond Chandler” (1970), and John Cawelti in Adventure, Mystery, and Romance:

Formula Stories as Art and Popular Culture (1976) are only indicative of the trend. The 45 latter proposes that the nature of the reader-sleuth interaction is charged with triggering ethical changes in the reading mind. The reader can assess the sleuth’s decisions and conduct in relation to moral problems posited, which entails that cultural or national problems are first processed at a micro level, a personal level, and solutions are worked out that can assure social and cultural continuity by glossing over sharp discrepancies in mentality. The escapist fantasy, in which the reader engages, then, is held to leave him or her ethically numbed or transformed in accordance with the demands of the status quo, which presents serious ethical dilemmas. This manipulation is expedited via the employment of an aesthete or an anarchist sleuth, as Roger Caillois in The Mystery Novel (1984) or Heta Pyrhönen in Mayhem and

Murder: Narrative and Moral Problems in the Detective Story (1999) respectively suggest.

The latter places the detective somewhere in-between morality and amorality, as in the case of private eyes who employ illegal methods more becoming to criminals than sleuths, thus also enabling a critique of the violent frontier-code mentality taken to extremes. Critics of the third phase engage with ethics not in terms of blame aimed at a distant outside reality but also at an individual level, which introduces a plethora of psychoanalytic studies seeking to account for deviance.

Psychoanalytic approaches, for instance by Geoffrey H. Hartman in “Literature High and Low: The Case of the Mystery Story” (1983), are prolific in the last phase of detective- fiction criticism. In “The Pleasures and Politics of Detective Fiction” (1992) Richard Raskin summarises the psychoanalytic uses which may account for the popularity of detective fiction. These uses include the “ludic, involving one or another form of play for the reader; wish fulfillment, when compensatory or vicarious gratifications are central” (70). Such interpretations, linking pleasure to ethics, converge on a voyeuristic vicarious relationship to murder, as the reader may identify with the sleuth or the criminal, which leaves the reader with none of the guilt feelings of a true murder but with the pleasure of having experienced 46 forbidden actions. Slavoj Žižek suggests that the allocation of guilt and motive to each suspect intensifies the pleasure until the detective names the actual culprit who functions as a scapegoat for a crime that every character along with the reader vicariously committed.

Thus, the genre becomes characterised by “libidinal bad faith,” as Robert A. Rushing maintains (3), whereby the main internal drive towards obscenity has been pacified for a short while through its presentation in an aesthetic and intellectual form. However, this compulsive reading demonstrates some degree of rebelliousness as it allows readers to defy what is socially acceptable and the opportunity to endorse transgressive literature rather than the high-brow books favoured by sophisticated readers. This enjoyment for Rushing

“disturbs the powers that be, in an unpreventable and everyday fashion, an obstinate persistence that annoys rather than challenges” (142). In short, for Raskin, “detective novels can influence the reader’s values and patterns of thought” (96).

According to Bloody Murder: From the Detective Story to the Crime Novel (1972) by

Julian Symons, Detecting Texts: The Metaphysical Detective Story from Poe to

Postmodernism (1999) edited by Patricia Merivale and Susan Elizabeth Sweeney, the structural inversion and experimentation in detective fiction in the last few decades have led to the formulation of what some critics see as a new subgenre, namely crime fiction. Tony

Hilfer explains that crime fiction “extends, inverts, and generally plays off against the conventions” of the detective novel (xi), its deviance manifesting in the treatment of character and setting which subverts the ‘whodunit’ and ‘hardboiled’ narrative structures. Thus, in contrast to detective fiction, “character psychology and implicative setting are frequently essential in the crime novel whereas an ingenious puzzle may be dispensed with altogether”

(2). Even the detective himself or herself may be dispensed, as Paul Cobley in The American

Thriller: Generic Innovation and Social Change in the 1970s (1993), Gill Plain in Twentieth-

Century Crime Fiction: Gender, Sexuality and the Body (2001), Martin Priestman in “Post- 47

War British Crime Fiction” (2003) and Knight in Crime Fiction 1800-2000: Detection,

Death, Diversity (2004) suggest.

By eclipsing the sleuth, crime fiction urges readers to identify with the criminal through an internal focalization; this exasperates readers because such fiction leaves them stranded in a psychological land of perplexity. On the one hand, conventional identification with the criminal commands sympathy; on the other hand, it triggers aversion, as Carl D.

Malmgren points out (150). Trying to tackle ethics in a more complex way, crime fiction avoids the trap of a simple black or white perspective concerning judicial affairs and insists that the irrationality or incomprehensibility of motives may be more complicated than a certain society wants to admit.27 As Pepper explains, the crime novel is “riven with ambiguities and contradictions, […] amenable to antithetical readings, [and] satiated in a logic that is simultaneously reactionary and progressive” (34) not coherent or subservient to the status quo.

What is noteworthy, however, is that the most contemporary criticism in detective- fiction criticism welcomes all forms of the genre. The academisation of the genre coupled with the loosening of the boundaries between high-brow and low-brow literature have opened up the scope of critical interest in detective and crime fiction. According to Christine Matzke and Susanne Mühleisen, “The boundaries of the genre have become fuzzier than ever, stretching over a wide range of registers, themes and styles, from pulp fiction to highly literary novels with elements of crime, from cosy mysteries with a sense of closure to fragmented narratives focusing on racial tensions, gender conflicts or the morals of violence”

(3).

It becomes apparent that criticism since the 1970s has been mainly concerned with either criticizing detective fiction for being an ideological support for the status quo and a

27 Malmgren also suggests that English crime fiction and American crime fiction are distinctly different because they refer to a totally different world structure. 48 reinforcement of capitalist values and practices, or with defending it for challenging the status quo by supporting minorities and empowering women; in short, for providing a niche for all kinds of taste. However, these approaches still reflect a concern to respond to the suspicious issues surrounding popular culture, issues that were raised by Adorno and

Horkheimer in the 1930s.

Although dealing with the social role of popular culture in general and detective fiction in particular, none of these efforts, however, approach the source par excellence, the reader himself or herself, in order to answer such questions. From the discussion so far, I can also safely conclude that there has not been much work done in the sociology of the literature of detective fiction. A notable exception is Hard-boiled: Working-Class Readers and Pulp

Magazines (2000) by Erin A. Smith, a work which “departs from text-based models of literary criticism to reconstruct historical readers and their interactions with a particular set of texts” (8). Besides “examining the literature itself,” Smith investigates “the conditions of cultural production and the institutions that shape ways of reading” (8); she deals with what she considers an important shortcoming: “The hole in the archival record” that does not allow her to “reconstruct the reading practices of those who were outside the record-keeping classes” (8) via “memoirs of writers, editors, and publishers of pulp fiction magazines” (9),

“letters from readers” (9), or “adult literary studies” (9). Such a focus would suggest, “pulp fiction was read by white, working-class men who were preoccupied with manliness, finding skilled and remunerative work, and the ‘impression management’ increasingly necessary for social advancement” (10). Smith also examines advertising in the pulp magazines and suggests, “fiction and advertising were mutually reinforcing discourses in slick-paper magazines between 1880 and 1920” (47).

Kelly’s Mystery Fiction and Modern Life (1998) refers to DorothyL, but the book cannot be classified as a sociological study. Kelly agrees with Pyrhönen’s statement that 49 previous studies on detective fiction “mainly allude to hypothetical constructs formed on the basis of analyzing the textual, implied roles of the reader and only occasionally on whatever evidence the scholar has gathered about actual reading audiences” (Murder from an

Academic Angle 85). Such critical works, according to Kelly, do not reveal an empiricist

“systematic” approach because they can only provide “evidence of the processes of creation and production” but are in no way informative of the “processes of consumption and use,” for such “evidence can only come from readers themselves, and from ‘texts of reception’ that embody their responses” (Kelly 165). Kelly points to the main questions but provides no methodologically-sound answers. So what are the central concerns of readers who enjoy detective and crime fiction? What do these concerns signify about them? In the following chapters, I will attempt to answer some of these questions. 50

Chapter Three

Methodological considerations

The fact that scientists do not consciously practice a formal methodology is very poor evidence that no such methodology exists. It could be said — has been said — that there is a distinctive methodology of science which scientists practice unwittingly, like the chap in Moliere who found that all his life, unknowingly, he had been speaking prose. Sir Peter B. Medawar

Without wanting to discount the importance of the research done thus far on detective fiction, but cognizant of the methodological shortcomings of previous efforts in the sociology of literature, in this project I use empirical data to explore literary taste. I treat the postings to

DorothyL as an empirical database comprising marked combinations of socio-literary information. My principal argument is that attention to social and cultural correspondences of taste is an aspect of aesthetic judgments scarcely touched by the scholarly community. In particular, I argue that few researchers have built their understanding of taste in the field of detective fiction, or in any literary field for that matter, on the daily-recorded perceptions and attitudes of readers towards the literary. Kelly explains this scarcity eloquently: “Works of fiction are evidence of authorial (and editorial) activity; they are not evidence of what readers make of their reading. As a consequence, fiction provides no secure basis for inferring how readers construct meaning in the act of reading. Evidence of the reading process must be sought elsewhere” (158). However, looking for answers elsewhere, that is in the postings to

DorothyL in the present case, implies for me the necessity for a different methodological schema.

My analysis then is distinguished, first and foremost, by its approach. The underlying parameter in every sociological study on taste is that data reveals that people possess an assortment of conceptual classificatory schemas, which they invoke in their discussions. I 51 believe that the optimum way to reveal the classificatory schemas that detective-fiction readers possess is by using a combination of qualitative content analysis and Greimasian structural semantics. I deem this approach necessary because I believe that it allows the formation of a solution to the Radway/Moretti methodological dilemma. It permits a scientific organization and a systematic analysis of categories without, however, discounting the importance of literature or readers themselves. Consequently, for the project at hand, I base the categories and the variables for the analysis on what posters themselves single out from the literature. In short, this methodological formulation allows for a more comprehensive analysis of reader preferences, which, I hope, will provide ample sociological information concerning the contemporary reader of detective fiction.

Content analysis is a customary task in the social sciences particularly in sociological studies of textual material. Its instrumentality is widely acknowledged. Phillip J. Stone,

Dexter C. Dupphy, and Daniel M. Ogilvie define content analysis as a “research technique for making inferences by systematically and objectively identifying specified characteristics within a text” (5). Klaus Krippendorff adds that its importance lies in the fact that it allows researchers to draw “replicable and valid inferences from data to their context” (Content

Analysis 21). Because content analysis respects the necessity for legitimate results, which can account for their context, it is an appropriate methodological component for my thesis.

My decision to use qualitative content analysis, however, needs further grounding.

There are two main types of content analysis: quantitative and qualitative. Unlike quantitative, qualitative content analysis goes beyond identifying the presence of concepts in a text by exploring the semantic or meaningful relationships between them since meaning is a product of these relationships, not inherent in individual concepts. Kathleen Carley and

Michael Palmquist assert that concepts are “ideational kernels” (607) that can be thought of as symbols which acquire meaning through their connections to other symbols. Counting 52 words is not enough. Occurrence frequency is merely the beginning of the project at hand.

The importance lies in the employment of a methodology that allows me to identify relationships between concepts. To illustrate, it is not sufficient to say that a sleuth and an environment are important for detective fiction readers. The essential component lies in systematically determining the characteristic of the sleuth that is likely to correlate with a particular characteristic of the environment. It is their connection that creates meaningful communication for posters and renders the current project worthwhile for me.

In this sense, I agree with scholars like Preben Sepstrup that qualitative analyses are

“necessary to produce actual understanding, to give detailed descriptions and analyses which are to describe and comprehend overall ... content” (155). However, I am skeptical about his apprehension that content analyses “will always be unable to cope with large amounts of data, and their results will be difficult to communicate and will have low general credibility”

(155). In this project I use qualitative content analysis but seek to overcome the methodological weaknesses that theorists identify and which might impact my project as well.

So far, the sociologists of literature employ qualitative content analysis to limited material, usually responses to questionnaires. In this sense, the data is easily manageable. In contrast, the material from DorothyL counts thousands of pages. This abundance makes it impossible to identify main concepts and define relationship types when performing qualitative content analysis. Sampling the material would lead to doubtful results. Since the task for this project is to embark on a semantic analysis rather than a purely syntactic one, no kind of sampling would be appropriate to ensure success for the project. Thus, what I must construct is a corpus instead of a sample. The corpus can accommodate qualitative content 53 analysis28 which can provide the platform for the analysis of the semantic component. In other words, I cannot treat the material from DorothyL as an assortment of sentences.

According to Greimas and Joseph Courtés’s distinction between a corpus and a sample, a corpus respects the nature of the material investigated. A corpus is not “a matter of collections of sentences but of a collection of discourses” and involves considerations pertaining “not only [to] a syntactic goal but also [to] a semantic one” (64), which must be respected if this project is to yield any worthwhile results. Thus, the best choice for my project is the construction of a corpus instead of any kind of sampling technique. My concern is to truncate the material, to construct a corpus, so that it can be processed “in an exhaustive and adequate way” as Greimas and Courtés propose, a way that can “guarantee the scientificness of the description” (63). Any other procedure would make it impossible to systematically analyse thousands of pages.

Alexandros Ph. Lagopoulos in “Λογική της Έρευνας στις Κοινωνικές Επιστήμες,” a paper presented in 2010, suggested that a methodology involving a corpus, instead of sampling, is often employed in social anthropology and is characterised by intuitiveness and empiricism because during the first steps of the research program it involves a bibliographical survey which is combined with existent anthropological knowledge. He also stressed that the aim of this enterprise is to specify the field of research that may trigger questions, which can be answered not only in relation to the particular and the local, but also in relation to a more general social phenomenon. Such intuitiveness presents a serious shortcoming. In Greimas and Courtés’s words, “the corpus is viewed as ‘objective,’ as a thing in itself which has its own laws, whereas contemporary epistemology gives at least as much importance to the subject as constructing his/her object” (63). This must be taken into consideration. Research agency, therefore, is negatively implicated in the process because the result may be impacted

28Lagopoulos has suggested that the employment of a corpus, rather than a sample which would demand a quantitative analysis, in a manner, dictates the employment of qualitative content analysis despite the fact that both procedures may be seen to entail a quantitative component. 54 by the researcher’s predisposed perceptive schemas manifesting as apriori decisions regarding the material and the final constitution of the corpus. Such a probability threatens the condition of objectivity that Greimas and Courtés present as mandatory.

In a preceding part of the current project the survey of criticism on detective fiction served to specify areas of interest for the critics. I believe that these areas may also impact the formation of categories and variables in the discourse of the posters to DorothyL. Moreover, an intuitive element characterises the first step in the reading of the material of the overall

DorothyL corpus in order to identify general trends, that is, categories, in relation to the popularity of detective fiction today. Intuitiveness, then, is part of the process I will follow but I will complement it with rigorous systematicity because I will base the processing of the material from the final corpus on more than pure empiricism and intuition.

I believe that the coupling of qualitative content analysis and Greimasian structural semantics is highly appropriate because the latter can be “linked to a qualitative approach to semiotic data” (Lagopoulos and Lagopoulou, 75) due to the fact that it can disclose aspects of the genres, their constitutive characteristics and the manner they are interrelated. This translates into a necessity for a coherent theory of how meaning is constructed in texts or discourse. Additionally, there is the need to avoid deciding a priori what to look for but to let readers themselves say what they consider important about their reading experience. Content analysis theorists identify this need: “Any research report” for Krippendorff “must contain a description of the research design” (Content Analysis 49), in other words a “plan for collecting and analysing data in order to answer the investigator’s question. “A good research design,” in Ole R. Holsti’s view, “makes explicit and integrates procedures for selecting a sample of data for analysis, content categories and units to be placed into the categories, comparisons between categories, and the classes of inference which may be drawn from the data” (27). The importance of adequate category formation is stressed by theorists of 55 content analysis but unfortunately it has not been part of the scope of relevant research on the quantitative or qualitative version. Theorists mainly stress that “categories should reflect the purposes of the research ... and be derived from a single classification principle” (95), but do not attempt to define a systematic methodology that may ensure the existence of a single classification principle. In other words, they do not explain how the condition of objectivity can be met at the face of a researcher who is apparently subjective.

My first concern, therefore, for the current project is to ensure that my findings

“reflect changes in communication content rather than lack of uniformity in the categories used for coding them” (48). Coding is “the process whereby raw data are systematically transformed and aggregated into units which permit precise description of relevant content characteristics” (94). In qualitative content analysis it is the relationship among concepts which is — in fact — assigned value and thus, coded. It is clear then that coding relationships properly is vital for qualitative content analysis and the success of the current project.

Inextricably intertwined with effective coding is another problem that researchers performing qualitative analysis often face, namely irrelevant information. The researcher must decide whether irrelevant information should be ignored, as Robert P. Weber suggests, or used to re-examine and/or alter the coding scheme (88). Once these choices about irrelevant information are made, the next step is to code the text according to the data language defined. “A data language prescribes the form in which data are recorded”

(Krippendorff, Content Analysis 86). A data language comprises a number of possible elements. Among them are “variables whose values represent the variability in recording units within a conceptual dimension” (86). These variables occupy paradigmatic positions in relation to each other and choice of one over the other often results in important diversification within a given conceptual dimension. There are also “constants with fixed 56 operational meanings specifying relations between variables” (88). Conjunctions, for instance, fall in this category. There is also “a syntax whose rules govern the construction of well-formed records (formulas, expressions) from variables and constraints” (88) and finally

“a logic that determines which records imply each other or are to be considered equivalent. It specifies logical (a priori) dependencies among variables” (87). As Krippendorf further suggests, “A syntax rules out certain combinations of values within variables as illegitimate, a logic equates certain combinations of values within variables (makes some distinctions superfluous). Both reduce the variation a set of variables can record to the variations actually needed” (87).

To sum up, the validity of a qualitative content-analysis study is dependent on appropriate category formation and valid results that may be generalised to a theory. As

Holsti puts it “there must be a principle of generality,” that is, “content analysis must have theoretical relevance” (56). In other words, “one must be able to generalise from text data to other data of the components in a communication model” (Lindkvist 34). The validity of categories, identified with the relevancy of raw data (54), is effected via the employment of various classifiers. Using multiple classifiers, each concept category can be broadened to include synonyms. In such cases, one term may be held to be the explicit variable, while other(s) are the implicit variables. “Content analysis should employ the categories most meaningful for the particular problem at hand; and relatively specific and concrete categories are often most meaningful” (Berelson 148).

It becomes clear then that the principal problem to tackle in order to perform qualitative content analysis on DorothyL is the necessity of not simply “intuiting content”

(Krippendorff, Introduction 6) but of creating the parameters that will cater for the “critical process of semantic interpretation” which is usually left “entirely implicit” (6) especially with traditional content analysis procedures. As Krippendorf summarises, “Unlike intuitive 57 interpretations of text, scientific analyses of message content thus require that the analytical procedures be explicit” and “cast in the terms of a formalized language” (Introduction 9).

Thus in order to satisfy the criteria of adequacy, objectivity, reliability “identified with truth” and problems of validity “identified with relevancy” (Lindkvist 43), it is vital “that every stage in the research process must be based on explicitly formulated rules and procedures”; in other words the “content of the text is to be emphasized, and the values and beliefs of the researcher must not influence the result of the examination” (34).

I am confident that the systematicity provided by Greimasian structural semantics through all these steps will render the research at hand capable of overcoming the basic criticisms leveled against qualitative content analysis which could discredit the validity of the project.

For these reasons, an elaboration of the basic tenets of Greimasian structural semantics to be used here is in order. The identification of any basic component is tantamount to the study of the surface level, the level of signification in Greimasian terms. In the Greimasian theory of signification, each such component is considered a lexeme, a surface structural unit of the lexicon. Lexemes are not semantic units in themselves and only their significations, the sememes, belong to the semantic level of manifestation (Structural

Semantics 137). Sememes are combinations of semes (73). The actual combination of semes into significations, as they appear in lexemes (29), takes place at the level of manifestation but the identification of semes can only take place at the deep level, the level of immanence

(143). For Greimas, the universe of semes represents the totality of conceptual categories of the human mind, “the immanent semantic universe” (70), but for our investigation, it is sufficient to conceive of the semes activated in our corpus as constituting the semantic universe of that corpus. The Greimasian schema of signification is the following: 58

The Semantic Universe

Lexemes: not semantic units in themselves

Surface Level Their Significations = Sememes = Combination of Semes Level of Manifestation

------

Deep Structure Identification of Semes = minimal units of Signification Level of immanence

Semiotic Square to define Semic Categories = Isotopies

To explore the semic categories that define each sememe, Greimas uses the “semiotic square” (25). The “semiotic square” is a schematic representation of the deep structure of a semantic category, mapping out a variety of relations. This elementary structure, according to

Greimas and Courtés, should be considered, “on the one hand, as a concept uniting the minimal condition for the apprehension and/or the production of signification, and on the other hand, as a model containing the minimal definition of any language … and of any semiotic unit” (314). The following schematic representation provided by Louis Hébert helps to clarify the semiotic square.

The Semiotic Square

Masculine + Feminine “androgyne” “hermaphrodite”

Masculine + Feminine “man” “woman”

Masculine + Non-feminine Feminine + Non-masculine “real man”, “macho” + + “ultra feminine”, “vamp”

Non - feminine + Non – masculine “mannish”, “macha” “effeminate”

Non - feminine + Non -masculine “angel”

The starting point of Greimas’s semantic theory, therefore, is his minimalist definition of structure, in which “priority has been given to relations at the expense of elements” (Greimas and Courtés 313) because “the nature of semes is purely relational and 59 never substantial” (278). Hence, the origin of signification is defined as an elementary relation constituted by the difference between two semantic terms created by the opposition between the presence and absence of a seme (Greimas, Structural Semantics 117-18).

For Greimas, then, the recognition of nuclear semes is integral to the process of signification. Through their recurrence in various lexemes, semes create what we call

‘isotopies,’ the fields of semantic coherence in a text. For the current analysis, the interest lies in identifying the isotopies that emerge from a careful study of the discussions of the

DorothyL contributors. A syntagm of two contextual semes is the minimal condition of a discursive isotopy. The term ‘isotopy’ may be employed to describe the coherence and homogeneity of the texts (Greimas, Structural Semantics 76). At the same time, isotopy “is the concept that makes a structural analysis of semantics possible by simultaneously articulating differences and similarities, the ‘continuities’ and ‘discontinuities’ of the elementary structure of signification” (Schleifer xxvii).

What, in my view, Greimasian structural semantics facilitates is the maintenance of a stable, well-constructed schema for specification of categories and analysis of variables; to put it differently, the provision of a coherent theory of how meaning is constructed in texts.

The Greimasian concepts of ‘lexeme,’ ‘seme,’ ‘sememe’ and ‘isotopy’ will help to clarify the constitution of the subgenres and provide a systematic theoretical approach to generating codes to be studied in relation to the main categories defined. This will reveal the perceptual richness of basic lexemes that posters use in their discussions. On completion of this step which demands that descriptive codes for each basic subgenre be established in a non- arbitrary way, there is one more step which will provide the statistical significance of each variable. As Lagopoulos suggested, case studies are based on theory but they must be methodologically systematised, if they are to yield consistent results. These results will be further verified by a statistical analysis. This may involve exploring differences or looking 60 for relationships among the variables identified in the study. Researchers performing content analysis employ statistics to “summarise classes of symbols or references made in a text, to test the statistical independence among attributes, or to relate content analysis findings to results obtained by other research methods” (Krippendorff, Content Analysis 121). On the other hand, “Where statistical procedures are used as a means of drawing inferences … their internal structure must be shown to be context sensitive, … that is, represent the symbolic processes in which the data are involved” (121). The “unit most frequently used in content analysis is the ‘item’, i.e., the whole ‘natural’ unit employed by the producers of symbol material” (Berelson 141). In my project, the unit will be the posting. However, the individual postings are too short for further elaboration of the semantic analysis. So, statistical analysis as a whole may reveal, first, what readers consider important and mention spontaneously when discussing a detective novel; second, what elements correlate (in the same posting) and how frequently; and third, how significant these elements are in the various categories of the detective novel that the contributors to the list identify. 61

Chapter Four

DorothyL: A Description of the Site and the Establishment of the Corpus

Reasoning draws a conclusion, but does not make the conclusion certain, unless the mind discovers it by the path of experience. Roger Bacon

This chapter has a threefold objective. In the first part I focus on the description of

DorothyL and, aided by the available sociological data and membership/conduct rules, I attempt to sketch a profile of its subscribers. In the second part, I explain how I establish my final corpus from the postings submitted by DorothyL subscribers. In the third part, I explain how Greimasian structural semantics contributes to a systematic definition of the categories for the subsequent statistical analysis.

DorothyL: A Description of the Site

DorothyL hosts, as the list owners Michael J. Kovacs, Diane K. Kovacs and Kara L.

Robinson put it, the interests of detective fiction readers. It is “a discussion and idea list for the lovers of the mystery genre.”29 Joseph Scarpato describes how the site came to life:

The DorothyL discussion list was created by two librarians, Dianne Kovaks

and Ann Okerson, at a July 1991 meeting in Washington, D.C. of the

Association of Research Libraries. Diane explains, we were joking about how

cool e-mail was and what we could do for fun and relaxation. We were torn

between a ChocolateL (for chocolate lovers) list and DorothyL for mystery

list, both things we love. I set up DorothyL and Ann provided moral support

but soon dropped out due to lack of time. I asked Kara Robinson, a reference

librarian at Kent State where I used to work, if she was interested and she

enthusiastically joined me in running the list. Since I began my own Internet

29 See http://www.dorothyl.com/contact.htmlAccessed: 5 February 2011. 62

training consulting business in 1993, Kara has been the list moderator and I’ve

worked on the technical support and management side.

Dorothy L. Sayers, the prominent English detective fiction author, whose work flourished in the time span between the two world wars, lends her name to the site. The site is an e-mail based electronic conference that operates across computer networks all over the world. The conference uses a software called LISTSERV to distribute conference issues to participants as well as make files available. [email protected] is the Internet address of the LISTSERV. Messages sent to the LISTSERV are read as commands by the program.

“Archives of DorothyL are maintained at Kent State University, and are available on the

Web.”30 “Each day,” Scarpato explains, subscribers “download a digest (or receive separate e-mails) of messages from the previous day, generally somewhere between 50 and 75 messages per day,” which may range “in length from a few lines to four or five hundred words,” as Kelly suggests (170). “These archives are keyword searchable, as well as arranged by date” 31 Moreover, “The archive does NOT save each digest as a unit. Instead, it saves the individual DorothyL postings weekly. The site has archives back to February

1999,” 32 which are available at http://listserv.kent.edu/archives /dorothyl.html or formerly at

J. Alec’s website http://mysteryvault.net/,33 however, currently unavailable.

The totality of the messages, saved on a CD-Rom disk, counted at the inception of the project about 100,000 Word-formatted pages and constituted the original corpus for this research.34 The daily digests, which form the building blocks of the corpus, are received via e-mail and added to the corpus at the rate of about a 1,000-line text on a daily basis because the web page is still an active one.

30 DorothyL, http://www.dorothyl.com/archives.html. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 31 http://www.dorothyl.com/archives.html. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 32 http://www.dorothyl.com/archives.html. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 33 http://www.dorothyl.com/faq.html . Accessed: 5 February 2011. 34 For the statistical counting postings were chosen only from the corpus spanning January 1999 and May 1999 inclusive but postings up to the present day have been also used but do not affect the statistical part and results. 63

In this writing, Scarpato informs, approximately “3,000 people from 25 countries around the world get together to discuss their love of mysteries.” “Detective readers, authors, detective bookstore proprietors” (Kelly 170) and generally “people from all walks of life” as

Scarpato stresses, subscribe to DorothyL, thus making it an invaluable source of information concerning the actual expectations of readers of detective fiction.

A partial list of the occupations of the subscribers to DorothyL was created in April

1998, the most recent one created before the time span studied (see Appendix 1).35 The list includes the names and professions of 398 subscribers. It is not a scientific sample because participation was voluntary and no attempt was made to include all subscribers. However, it may be taken as indicative of the kind of people who subscribe to the site.

A descending statistical classification of the professions of the subscribers or their fields of expertise resulted in the following table:

Professions Librarian 25.1 % Professor &Teacher 18.8 % Writer 10.5 % Computer scientist 7.8 % Educational administrator 6 % Editor 4 % Health care employee 3 % Law-related profession 2.8 % Administration employee 2.3 % Mass Media employee 2 % Student 1.8 % Biochemist 1.5 % Coordinator 1.5 % Bank employee /Accountant 1.3 %

35 This list was accessed by sending a command prompt to the server which emailed the list. The list has been alphabetically processed so as to avoid duplicates. 64

Museum employee 1.3 % Statistician /Marketing employee 1.3 % Archaeologist 1 % Book seller 1 % Agent 0.8 % Business Owner 0.8 % Mechanic engineering 0.8 % Environmental scientist 0.8 % Artist 0.8 % Archivist 0.5 % Clergy employee 0.5 % Police officer 0.5 % Translator 0.3 % Other 1.2 %

From this chart, it is clear that a large majority of DorothyL contributors (71.1 %) belong to professions involved with books or education. These professions, including teachers and professors (18.8%), artists (0.8%), librarians (25.1%), university administrators

(6%), editors (4%), writers (10.5%), purchasing agents (0.8%) archaeologists (1%), students

(1.8 %) and book sellers (1%), are also noteworthy as they reveal in most cases informed reading. This validates the fact that Kelly’s conclusion: “Polling data consistently suggests that the audience for mystery fiction constitutes a large segment of the adult population and that education, more than any other factor, is the key distinguishing feature of its readership”

(168). It also explains what Wendy Griswold in the Foreword to her book Cultures and

Societies in a Changing World (2008) identifies as the modern “effort to connect sociology to the ongoing concerns and experiences of the informed public” (xiii). The current project subscribes to that effort.

From the DorothyL Occupations List first compiled by Delaine Heliotis in January

1996, it surfaces that the overwhelming majority of the subscribers to DorothyL are women. 65

In the second edition of this list, the one used as a reference point here, of 398 people who responded to the question only about 17% appear to be men which accords with previous polls suggesting that women read more detective fiction than men (Kelly 168). Since

DorothyL counts approximately 3,000 people at the time the corpus for this project was constituted, the number can only be taken as indicative of the gender ratio of the subscribers.

The fact that the respondents represent only a little more than 13% of the total number of subscribers must not be disregarded. Furthermore, it is important to take into account the number of people ‘lurking,’ the inactive subscribers, who at first glance appear not to influence the list in any way other than by their presence, giving it a greater number of subscribers and, thus, a reason to exist. Of course, it is unlikely that inactive list members influence the ideological or literary assumptions of the list in any serious way. The 398 subscribers who responded to the questionnaire can be presumed to be active also in contributing to the discussions, so they are probably reasonably representative of the group studied for this project.

A characteristic of DorothyL is the adoption of “Noms de Clavier” whose first keeper was Judith Hopkins.36 “When DorothyL was started” the list owners inform,

a number of subscribers thought it would add to their enjoyment of the list to

adopt a special DorothyL persona, an identity that would be mystery-related.

Thus one of the founders, Diane Kovacs, adopted the Nom de Clavier of

Harriet Vane. There is no requirement, nor even a recommendation or

suggestion, that posters to DorothyL have noms. In fact, most DorothyLers do

not have noms. Noms have always been just a bit of fun for some of our

subscribers, and that's all they will ever be.37

36See http://www.dorothyl.com/history.html . Currently the keeper of the noms de clavier is Michael J. Kovacs, one of the list owners (source: http://www.dorothyl.com/noms.html). Both Accessed: 5 February 2011. 37 See http://www.dorothyl.com/noms.html. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 66

Another important aspect of this list is the fact that there is a basic DorothyL

Etiquette. Participants on this list all agree that the topics of discussion should relate to mystery literature and, more specifically, as stated on the webpage itself, to “Announcements, by the Author, of their Forthcoming Books” as well as to “Reviews, criticisms, comments, and appreciations of mysteries (books, plays, films). Moreover, these topics should include

“Great mystery book shops, Awards” and “Mysterious events. Mystery travels, mystery walks in cities, mysteries of life.”38 The owners also point out, “Forbidden topics are topics which have been discussed to death, are contentious and never get resolved, or are just a fact of life on the Net and DorothyL in particular.”39 These include discussions related to award judgments, to decisions of the publishing industry, to questions about how the moderators run the site or to queries about technical issues of subscription. Additionally, the owners disapprove discussions of spam as well as discussions about politics or religion unless they are related to a particular book. They also ask their subscribers to avoid advertising that does not relate to detective fiction, but they welcome posters who wish to promote their own books. The subscribers must also refrain from flame wars or debates on grammatical issues, chain letters, or topics such as “Whether DorothyL authors get better reviews simply because they are DorothyL authors.”40 Scarpato explains that the “topics (‘threads’) run the gamut, from reviews of mystery books (or movies or television shows or short stories) to philosophical discussions of good and evil in the world.” Kelly also summarises some of the topics:

[p]ostings regularly include announcements of conferences, forthcoming

books, author appearances and book signings; book reviews, recommendations

for reading, and chat about books and authors; and queries ranging from the

38 Topics directly quoted from http://www.dorothyl.com/acctopics.html. Typos retained as in the original. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 39 See http://www.dorothyl.com/forbidtopics.html. Accessed: 5 February 2011. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 40 See http://www.dorothyl.com/forbidtopics.html. Original typos has been retained. Accessed: 5 February 2011. 67

location of that ‘great used book store’ on the Welsh border (Hay-on-Wye) to

the meaning of an item of English slang, (e.g. “berk” or “twee”), or an

unfamiliar allusion encountered in a mystery novel. A recent query from a

reader puzzled by Raymond Chandler’s reference (in The Lady in the Lake) to

a “PBX” resulted in over twenty replies posted to DorothyL, including several

from former operators of those telephone switchboards. (170)

DorothyL functions for its members as a detective fiction encyclopedia because its subscribers can answer any related question. For Scarpato “The combined knowledge of

DorothyL subscribers is incredible. Almost any question about a mystery book, no matter how old the book or how esoteric the question, is almost always answered by someone on the list. The same holds true for almost any question on any topic” including what constitutes

‘elegant’ writing, who’s been nominated for the latest mystery awards and why they should or shouldn’t win, reasons for the dramatic rise in fictional female private eyes, and the ever- popular cozies versus hard-boileds versus police procedurals.” Authors may also tap the collective knowledge available on DorothyL to improve their own work. A subscriber summarises this point: “I’ve been very impressed with the quality of the posts thus far. ... I was wondering what constitutes a Historical Mystery to any of you. I’m currently working on a mystery novel set in the 1930s. Is this ‘Historical’? And do any of you know of a mystery author writing in this period? Apart from all the great names writing at the time, of course” (9

March 2000).41 According to Scarpato, another common thread on DorothyL involves authors sharing with subscribers “how they are coming along with their new books, when they will be published, and at what bookstores their next signings will be. This is playfully termed BSP

(Blatant Self Promotion) on the list and is not only tolerated but encouraged by most

41 To preserve anonymity in quoting from DorothyL, I have noted only the date of the digest in which a given posting was listed. I retain printouts of those digests. Moreover, it should be stressed that I quote from postings exactly as they are without correcting spelling, syntax, or formatting. 68 subscribers, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand and the author contributes more than just self promotion” (Scarpato).

As Kelly stresses, “the resounding rejection of a scheme of formal awards” is also characteristic of the list. In fact, “When the issue came up in 1996, most of those who spoke out on it rejected the idea of establishing awards in the name of the list, fearing that doing so would drastically alter the character of the discussion (e.g., 9/10 April 1996)” (170-1).

However, Kelly emphasizes that posters value DorothyL because they can use it to inform themselves and others of “‘good reads’ (11/12 April 1996)” proposed “‘by someone who has previously recommended a book’ (23/24 February 1996)” which spares them from “‘hours of agonizing over what to read next’ (7-8 January 1996)” (Kelly 170-71).42

Another important characteristic is the pervasive sense of humour. “Along with the reviews and the serious discussions about the mystery genre, you can almost always find something that makes you smile, if not laugh out loud. With the background of most subscribers, you’d expect a lot of amusing plays on words, and you wouldn’t be disappointed” Scarpato remarks. Subscribers then appreciate humour because it helps a book qualify as a good read: “In years past (quite a few of them!), I ran across a couple of the

Peckover books and recall enjoying them for their quirky sense of humour and equally quirky characters” (16 April 2000) a subscriber remembers while another stresses the importance that “Ms. Greenwood’s sense of humour and mine …coincide” (30 June 2009).

As Scarpato stresses, “there’s also a lot of just plain wacky stuff as well, like the author who constantly changes the title and description of his latest book to reflect the current threads. And the subscriber who reviews fictitious books whose plots tie together nearly all the threads of the previous week.” However, there is also an appreciation of wacky stuff at a story level: “The Gilbert-and-Sullivan-related mystery by Charlotte MacLeod is THE PLAIN

42 Gordon Kelly’s Mystery Fiction and Modern Life provides some quotes belonging to the time span previous to the one for the research at hand but serve to illustrate that reader preferences have not changed. The current website does not provide the archives for this quotes that Kelly uses as it stores them online only since 1999. 69

OLD MAN. It revolves around a performance of THE SORCERER and is, like all Charlotte's stuff, short, wacky, and undiluted fun. A real treat” (3 September 2001).

Perhaps the most important aspect is that DorothyL posters promote a feeling of community that is strengthened because many subscribers in their postings share personal information about major or trivial life events. As one poster puts it:

I do my share of reviews and other mystery related comments, but I'm

probably more guilty than most of taking up bandwidth with off topic reports--

such as family matters-- but when I was at Left Coast Crime Convention, I lost

count of the number of DLers I’d never met who came up to me and said,

“How’s Alec doing?” It was a way of making connection, of starting a

conversation without awkwardness. I love hearing about Maggie and Valerie,

and Sujata’s Pia, and what the weather is like on the Oregon Coast. None of

these things take up that much space, but they add immeasurably to the feeling

of community in DorothyL, in my opinion. It’s not long now until Malice

Domestic. I hope anyone from DL who’s going will come up to me and use

that password--“How’s Alec doing?” Prepare to be hugged. (8 April 1999)

These postings already help raise several questions: What are the critical criteria employed by the list’s subscribers? How do subscribers read detective fiction? What is the role of this reading in their lives? I believe that, taken together, the answers to these questions should shed some light on the appeal detective fiction has for that subset of its audience, represented by those active, contributing subscribers who sustain the discussion on DorothyL and who are obviously a well selected diverse sample of the detective fiction readership.

Kelly stresses that the answers to the above questions related to detective fiction reading practices are relevant to the characteristics that subscribers privilege in their readings.

He summarises these characteristics as follows: “In their recommendations, subscribers to 70

DorothyL refer almost exclusively to one or another of seven aspects of mystery fiction: character, setting, ‘writing,’ plot, puzzle (or mystery), humour, and social commentary.

Recommendations invariably offer some evaluation of character, and the vast majority refer to just three other constituent elements: setting, the overall quality of the writing, and the plot” (171). However, I would like to further qualify the list by adding the emphasis on the sleuth and/or on other major or minor characters as distinct areas of interest for the posters.

To be more specific, of 168,856 individual postings, the main character is referred to in

54,239, the setting in 44,629, the narrative technique or general quality of writing in 39,264, the plot in 62,327 and the other minor or major characters in 37,217 postings. There is an obvious degree of overlapping in a great number of postings since the subscribers do not usually refer to a single category of the above but, most often than not, implicate more than one in their discussions. The percentages, therefore, of the above parameters are as follows in the table below.

Plot 36.9 % Primary character/protagonist 32% Setting 26.5 % Quality of writing 23.3% Other major or minor characters 22 %

Kelly has further elaborated on the important characteristics that postings to DorothyL reveal:

although many subscribers appear to prefer the subgenre of what they refer to

as the ‘cozy,’ and although this modernized version of the ratiocinative form is

constituted by a puzzle, recommendations do not typically single out that

feature of the fiction. Humour and social commentary receive occasional

attention. The presence of humour is almost invariably a positive factor in

evaluating a work, but the matter of social commentary is more complex. If 71

the commentary is judged ‘intrusive, or if the author's treatment of an issue is

substantially at odds with the values of the reader, social commentary will be

seen to interfere with reading pleasure and will be marked accordingly: “I like

a little social commentary with my mysteries . . . I do not like it when the

issue/s overtake the mystery. I don’t want a speech in the middle of the action

about the hot topic of the day” (18/19 April 1996). Postings to DorothyL

simply do not refer to “themes” or “symbols,” let alone to such current arcane

of the literary critical trade as “aporia” or “intertextual(ity). (171)

In a word, the DorothyL contributors, according to Kelly’s assessment, “read first for character and then, in varying preference orders, for setting, writing quality, plot, and puzzle”

(Kelly 170). Moreover, he suggests that posters “praise authors for characters who are realistic believable, recognizable, likable, memorable, interesting or vivid; who are well developed or well drawn; and for settings that are realistic, authentic, memorable, and evocative. Writing may be praised as skilled, excellent, masterful, deft, richly textured, or superb. Especially good writing may ‘sing.’ A first-rate plot is gripping, involving, or suspenseful; well paced or fast-paced or simply ‘strong’” (171-72). So, “It is a fair inference” for Kelly “that these recommendations, with their clear hierarchy and priorities, align closely with how these readers read and what they read for” (171). In the current project, I adopt Kelly’s inference and seek to make good on it by embarking on a research that will bring the preferences of real readers to light. Considering, however, the bulk of the material provided on DorothyL, I realise that I can only accomplish such an objective by studying a more manageable corpus.

I have chosen DorothyL as the database from which to draw the primary text for the study at hand because it was already available and contained the archives. Both these 72 conditions allowed me access to authentic reader text in its most primary form and without any stylistic intervention (or any other intervention for that matter).

Establishment of the Corpus

In this part I will explain the manner in which I establish the corpus. The following analysis focuses on the time span between January 1999 and May 1999 inclusive. This translates into 3,927 pages and 7,675 individual postings. The readers who contribute to

DorothyL operate with a conception of two major subgenres of detective fiction, which they refer to as the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled.’ They also discuss in detail the characteristics and subcategories of each. The readers who contribute to DorothyL structure their reading expectations along the lines of these two main subgenres. I agree then with Kelly who says that posters seem “to possess stable, determinate, highly predictable expectations about the experience of reading detective fiction” (167). It is, therefore, worth researching the material from DorothyL because if the research proves successful in disclosing these expectations, then conclusions about the reading experience of the particular readers can be drawn.

Despite the fact that some posters may see the distinction between ‘cosy’ and

‘hardboiled’ as a “false dilemma” (13 May 1999), or at least blurred, insisting that it doesn’t

“really matter if the story is cozy, hardboiled, … or whatever” (10 February 1999), quite often, the two subgenres are appointed a binary-opposition status which makes them stand out compared to the rest of the kinds of detective fiction. This becomes more evident if one tries to see in juxtaposition the way posters perceive the two subgenres, especially when they describe more than one characteristic of each subgenre. In one such case, a poster gives what appears to be the definition of a ‘cosy’:

Just finished ARC of Jane Isenberg’s new mystery, The M Word. Set in a

small community college town in NJ, magnificently menopausal protagonist 73

Bel Barrett teams up with an unlikely set of colleagues to solve the murder of

the college president (popular with faculty, but no so much with some of the

board members/ staff). A delightful cozy, the community college scenes ring

true with gripes about faculty vs. administration, etc. Jane’s cast of characters

is enjoyable and diverse enough to hook the reader into wanting to know

more. In fact, I emailed her regarding the book – it’s not even out yet, and I’m

waiting for the next one. (5 January 1999)

Another poster “looking forward for the sequels” (5 January 1999) of Delilah

Doolittle and the Purloined Pooch by Patricia Guiver helps to further describe the ‘cosy’:

“This was the first in Guiver’s Pet Detective series. It introduces Delilah Doolittle, a British widow living in California, and her Doberman, Watson. When they start to investigate the disappearance of a champion German shepherd, they stumble across dead bodies, and then other dogs start disappearing. This was a fun cozy mystery for dog lovers” (5 January 1999).

In such postings, one can find information concerning the setting, the sleuth, the gender of the sleuth, their age and other characteristics, the secondary characters, the crime, the technique and the poster’s reaction to the book. They are, therefore, a source of useful information.

Whether, then, postings mention one or two or even more characteristics, as this one does, they prove invaluable in defining the properties of the subgenres and the degree of crossover between genres as the posters to DorothyL perceive them.

Of 7,675 postings, 208 explicitly mention the genre ‘cosy’ and a variety of its characteristics. Historical mysteries are also seen as part of the ‘cosy’ variety since they are described by posters as bearing ‘cosy’ characteristics. One such case is described below:

I really enjoyed “Murder in a Small Town” also. It’ s true, the story was full

of classic/predictable cosy-isms and not exactly complicated - and I did figure

out whodunnit - but I really admired the way Wilder set up his detective 74

character with the right skills and connections to solve the crime. (have there

been any other director-detectives?) Not to mention the 30s touches that

WERE accurate, and - oh, let’s face it, ever since I saw Gene Wilder in Willy

Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I’ve loved the man! I’d happily watch him

in almost anything, but being a detective is a great vehicle for him. (15

January 1999)

One may claim at this point that I have not really established clear criteria as to what constitutes reference to a ‘historical’ book let alone a ‘historical cosy.’ At first glance, it appears that the above posting does not refer to a ‘historical cosy’ since there is no straightforward mention of the term. The question then was how to deal with such references. In the subscriber’s words, Murder in a Small Town was “full of classic/predictable cosy-isms and not exactly complicated” (15 January 1999). This comment leads me to classify the book as a ‘cosy,’ but what about the ‘historical’ parameter? The following comments of a poster help express the grounds for the decision to classify such postings as ‘historical cosies:’

As World War I and the years just after it become increasingly a “historical”

period, I suppose we’ll see more and more crime novels set during that time.

An interesting juxtaposition, I think, with the detective stories that were

actually published during that “Golden Age.” Writers these days are looking

at far different things than those writers who actually were writing at the time.

Lord Peter Wimsey and Roderick Alleyn occasionally suffered attacks of

nerves because of their experiences during the Great War, but seldom did we

see any realistic effects. Golden Age writers wrote to entertain, which they

did superbly. Contemporary writers are now showing us some of the deep 75

scars left in the psyche by the Great War, and such books make for very

compelling reading, IMO (28 March 1999).

The past time frame allows me to consider such books as ‘historical cosies,’ regardless of when the book was written which is something that will demand attention in the following chapters as it implicates aspects of technique.

I also include in the ‘historical cosy’ any single mention of the term regardless of whether defining characteristics are mentioned or not. Such a case is the following description of Dead In The Water by Carola Dunn, about which the subscriber comments: “I have loved all of her wonderfully cozy historical mysteries (set in 1920s England). Perfect with tea!” (4 January 1999).

There are 150 postings mentioning such cases of ‘historical cosies’ in the material.

This number then should be added to the ‘cosy’ references. Since there is some overlapping of references to the two subgenres the actual number of postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and/or the ‘historical cosy’ is 345.

It should be noted that I classify as ‘hardboiled’ all the instances in which a subscriber has categorised a book as ‘not a cosy.’ Such is the following case elaborated by a subscriber: “Recently on DL someone mentioned a new book was coming out called THE

WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH by B. Reece Johnson. … It is an outstanding book.

Interesting characters, lots of suspense, good ending. It is set in New Mexico, has some environmental issues, and mentions some chemistry. This is not a cozy and there is some violence but mostly off site” (4 January 1999). What is important then here is that, despite the fact that it is felt that certain characteristics mentioned by the poster would indeed urge one to classify this book as a ‘cosy,’ the poster clearly dismisses such a prospect and, thus, the book is categorised as a ‘hardboiled’ reference to begin with. This indicates that, as it will be shown later, the divisions within detective fiction are not always so clear-cut and what 76 makes for ingenuity is the fact that conventions are borrowed from one subgenre and exploited in another. The element of violence, as it will be indicated in the process, is characteristic of the ‘hardboiled’ variety rather than of the ‘cosy’ one. Speaking of there being “some violence but mostly off site” (4 January 1999), the poster is actually referring to a ‘cosy’ characteristic but refuses to call the book that. Properties or characteristics are, then, cleverly intertwined to cater to several tastes: such a book as the one described above by this particular poster would apparently hold the interest of ‘hardboiled’ crime readers but who dislike excessive or explicit violence, thus, rendering their reading experience more sophisticated.

However, there is an abundance of instances, 113 to be more specific, in the corpus that are clearly labelled as ‘hardboiled.’ The following is such a reference despite the fact that it does not mention any particular book. “On raven-haired beauties, et al: I quit reading hard-boiled because I Tired of the buxom secretaries and the P.I.s who never ever took their hats off” (27 January 1999). The posting continues with the poster’s response to the quotation: “Whoever wrote this probably hasn’t read anything hardboiled more recent than

Mickey Spillane. I mean, secretaries? Hats? What’s next? Complaints about cars with tailfins?” (27 January 1999). The same poster hastens to add: “I can’t think of any current

P.I.s with a secretary, except maybe Pronzini’s Nameless, and I doubt she’d see herself as a secretary. And Amos Walker is about the only current P.I. that comes to mind who wears a hat” (27 January 1999). Regardless of the fact that, in this posting, there are more than one subgenres mentioned, I categorise it as a reference to the ‘hardboiled’ for the purposes of this research. Similarly, when there is a reference to a particular book which is labelled

‘hardboiled’ it is added to the total count even though it may also involve another subcategory, as in the case of the following description: 77

Delilah West is one of the first modern hardboiled female private

investigators, at least according to Marcia Muller who wrote an introduction to

the reprint of DEATH IS FOREVER by Maxine O’Callaghan. In this book

originally copyrighted in 1980, Delilah, running the detective agency after the

murder of her husband, wakes up to find herself on the floor of a seedy hotel

room. Occupying the bed is a dead body. Delilah must trace her steps to

figure out how she got there and then do the same for the dead body. In the

process she hopes she can also discover her husband’s murderer. (22 March

1999)

The introductory lines indicate that for the poster this is a ‘hardboiled’ book, as does the following comment by the same poster: “Both for those interested in the first steps of female hardboiled detectives and those just looking for a pleasant read, this is a very interesting book in spite of a few flaws (which are probably caused because we live in a different world than

1980)” (22 March 1999). It is important that the poster does not fail to spot some ‘flaws’ which amount to the necessary suspension of disbelief in introducing a female detective in a

‘hardboiled’ world. “Perhaps Ms. O’Callaghan’s strongest quality, outside of her pioneer work for women writers, is her sense of place. Orange County and Los Angeles are very clearly described and I was transported to the wealth of the suburbs and some of the rougher neighborhoods of L.A” (22 March 1999). There appears, then, to be a certain degree of clashing between the previous comments and the following by the same poster:

This may have been a breath of fresh air in 1980 when all we could read about

were tough men investigating the tough streets, but a great many women

detectives have since followed in Delilah’s footsteps. It is still enjoyable to

read but there are a few problems with it. My biggest problem was Delilah

herself. She has to be pretty new at this detective business because she is not 78

nearly cynical or questioning enough. For example, When one of the

policemen who find Delilah at the scene advises her to get a lawyer, she

doesn’t believe she will need one because she is innocent. This means, of

course, that the character was believable and well-drawn. The other characters

are much less three-dimensional. The whole plot depends on Delilah believing

things that most people would not believe. It is quite complex, but the killer is

telegraphed by his behavior and most readers are going to stumble across him

fairly early in the story. There is a great deal of suspense at the end and I

certainly kept reading to find out how he was going to be uncovered. (22

March 1999)

Despite the fact then that Delilah for this poster is not cynical or ‘hardboiled’ enough, the poster does rank this book as a ‘hardboiled’ due to the fact that the protagonist is new to this job and not really ‘hardboiled’ enough yet. The overall description of the book gives evidence that this is considered a ‘hardboiled’ book about a not so ‘hardboiled’ sleuth who has just started the toughening up process. Thus, I feel that I must classify this reference as

‘hardboiled.’ The details concerning the protagonist which are more reminiscent of the

‘cosy’ category of an amateur forced somehow into sleuthing constitute elements of crossover which render the particular book among so many others as “a breath of fresh air”

(22 March 1999).

There are also more clear-cut references where the posters do not present any elements of hesitation concerning their perception of what category the book they are describing belongs to. “DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS by Ed Gorman” a poster explains,

“Grabbed me in the first two pages, but” it is “not for the faint-hearted. Hardboiled tale of a former cop, now a taxi driver, and an amnesia victim who may or may not be a murderer” (26

January 1999). Such references do not present any problems in categorizing and provide 79 considerable data on which to build the profile of ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction because posters blatantly assign the books to the category themselves.

In the corpus the term ‘hardboiled’ and its variations appear 101 times. As an explicit reference, then, it is less commonly referred to than the ‘cosy.’ The term

‘cosy,’ to put it statistically, appears 2.1 times more often than ‘hardboiled’ when taken alone as ‘cosy’ references in contrast to the ‘hardboiled’ references. If the ‘cosy’ is considered as the sum of ‘cosy’ and ‘historical’ detective fiction an even higher percentage in favour of the ‘cosy’ emerges because it is mentioned 3.42 times more than the ‘hardboiled.’

Like the ‘cosy,’ the ‘hardboiled’ variety does not appear as a clear-cut case either.

Under the same label, one may come across several subgenres, such as that of the ‘police procedural’ which is mentioned in 119 emails. Obviously, this percentage should be added to the percentage of the ‘hardboiled’ variety. Taking into account the degree of coincidence of the two terms in the postings, the total count for the ‘hardboiled’ variety so far is 206.

My decision to integrate ‘police procedurals’ to the ‘hardboiled’ variety does not present a straightforward practice. However, it may be explained if one pays attention to what posters define as a ‘police procedural.’ A poster says that Chris Pettit’s The Psalm

Killer “blurbs as something of a serial killer novel, but” in fact “is really a pretty well-done police procedural set in the rather unusual locale of , Northern Ireland” (14 January

1999). In this book, a “male/female detective team stumbles fairly early on to a connection between Biblical passages which start appearing in the newspaper's classified ads and a series of seemingly unrelated murders. Their investigation leads to a very complicated and complex web of relationships between the IRA (provisional and official), the protestant paramilitary groups, and the British government” (14 January 1999). This is what may be termed a typical

‘police procedural.’ There are, however, borderline cases. 80

One may suggest that, despite the fact that the following poster labels a book a

‘police procedural’ and, thus, evokes an element of violence according to the present categorisation, the same poster seems to contradict his or her own words because his or her description does not seem to justify such a categorisation: “David Wolf has written an entertaining contemporary closed door who-done-it. The numerous viable suspects leave readers struggling to select the culprit. The police procedural also includes a strong romance that Mr. Wolf fully integrates with the main story line” (29 March 1999). “Reminiscent of the powerful works of Sandra Brown, KING OF INFINITE SPACE has cross-genre appeal that romance and mystery readers will find quite enjoyable” (29 March 1999). To make matters worse, the poster clearly states that there is a general ‘cosy’ atmosphere coupled with the strong attraction between the protagonists:

The quite town of Fairhaven, Ohio has little crime and that is mostly confined

to an occasional DUI or bar fight. The biggest crime to rock the town occurred

twenty-five years ago when Samantha Baxter disappeared at a Fourth of July

celebration. Her body was found many years later in the John’s Fairhaven

Caverns, but the case remains open even today. Fairhaven’s long stretch

between deadly crimes ends when someone murders Sally Jastrow while she

participated in a government sponsored medical experiment. The case is

virtually a closed door mystery that means either an insider, or a computer

whiz who could overcome the lock codes, had to do the crime. Sheriff Alan

Schneider and Captain Toni Ashcroft of Air Force security investigate the

murder. As they make their inquiries, a strong attraction develops between

them. However, first they must solve an ugly killing that has threads reaching

back to the child’s murder over a quarter of a century ago. (22 March 1999) 81

Once again, my dilemma of whether to classify this ‘police procedural’ as a ‘hardboiled’ because the poster blatantly describes it as such or to put it in another category surfaces. For the purposes of this research, however, the interest lies in defining how the readers perceive the main subgenres as well as how they form minor categories by allowing the crossover of characteristics. The latter of course means that if one takes away the term ‘police procedural’ from the above description one can be easily led to term this book even a ‘cosy.’

So far then, there are 206 postings making reference to the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre and

345 making reference to the ‘cosy’ one. However, the ‘hardboiled’ is also related by posters to detective fiction featuring a professional private investigator. References to ‘private investigator’ fiction are found under the terms ‘p.i,’ ‘private detective,’ ‘private eye’ and, of course, ‘private investigator.’ Such instances in the corpus include references to “kickass female P.I.’s” (9 February 1999) or to male protagonists such as the sleuth found in

Strawberry Sunday by Stephen Greenleaf: “P.I. John Marshall Tanner, San Francisco, ex- lawyer” (13 March 1999). In the following posting a subscriber gives a more detailed description of a private investigator:

In Oregon, private Investigator Zachariah Smith watches the video of his

being shot during an anti-abortion rally. The same bullet killed obstetrician

Dr. Irene Sandhoff. While Zachariah recovers in the hospital, the Chief of

Police questions him. The chief wonders whether Zack or Irene was the

intended target. The chief and Zack wonder why Irene, who rarely left the

building during the protest, seemed to be coming towards the P.I. The chief

warns Zack to stay out of the investigation. However, feeling guilty that he

might have caused the death of the obstetrician, Zack begins his own inquiries

even if it means the killer has a second chance to complete the job. Zach

remains the star, though his supporting cast such as his sister and Phil (the 82

police chief) augment the novel. Readers who enjoy a compassionate but

tough detective story should read this novel. (18 March 1999)

In total, there are 130 such references. The total sum of references to ‘hardboiled’ and ‘police procedural’ and ‘private investigator,’ excluding any instances of co-occurrence, amounts to 297 individual postings. There are, once again, problematic cases of ‘private investigator’ books, the description of which is not so reminiscent of a tough ‘hardboiled.’ A poster asks: “Does anyone else out there, beside Kevin Smith (who I know will remember), familiar with a series of books from the late eighties by W. Glen Duncan featuring Rafferty -- a paperback original Spenser clone? I’ve recently reread a couple of these, and despite a few dated references, they hold up pretty well” (24 March 1999). “The set up,” the poster remarks, “is the same macho wisecracking private eye, irritating girlfriend (although nowhere near as bad as Susan Silverman), hardass buddy (in this case two, Cowboy and Mimi, a pair of married psychos)” (24 March 1999), thus establishing what would truly constitute the norm in perceiving a typical ‘private investigator’ book. But the same poster hastens to add:

“In many ways this series is Spenser ‘light’” (24 March 1999). However, once again I choose to classify such cases in accordance with what the poster claims, bearing in mind that there is ample space for the discovery of subcategories that cater to a variety of tastes.

One final category that must be counted is that of the ‘thriller’ which subscribers to the list attribute to the ‘hardboiled’ variety. The ‘thriller’ references amount to 55.

Subscribers to DorothyL further differentiate between the ‘medical and legal thriller,’ on the one hand, and ‘suspense/cold war/espionage’ on the other. I must include these categories in the ‘thriller’ variety before I add them to the ‘hardboiled’ category.

Instances of what posters define as ‘thrillers’ may fool a researcher into categorising them as ‘cosy,’ as could be easily the case with the following reference: 83

Last night I finished Gregg Main's EVERY TRACE, a galloping-fast read that

caused me to stay up too late three nights in a row. Ellen is determined to track

down and kill the men who murdered her father 34 years before, but things

don’t go according to plan. My favorite character was the 63-year-old paroled

murderer who is trying to remake his life by following the advice of a

“positive thinking” self-help guru. EVERY TRACE is a fast-paced, not-too-

gory thriller with several unexpected twists and turns. Just don’t start it too

close to bedtime. (25 March 1999)

The poster characterises the particular book as “not -too-gory thriller” (25 March 1999) but the fact remains that it is indeed for them a ‘thriller,’ perhaps not in the extremely

‘hardboiled’ tradition but a ‘thriller’ nonetheless.

References to the other subcategories of what the subscribers define as ‘thrillers’ may appear as simple mentions of the word ‘thriller,’ which is enough to indicate that they do form a special category in the mind of the subscribers. For a special “4 week email class

‘Writing The Mystery Novel’” (5 April 1999) the organisers announce: “During this four week class, you will learn about what constitutes a mystery and its many subgenres (from private eye and medical thriller to romantic suspense), begin plotting and writing” (5 April

1999). ‘Medical thriller,’ then, is distinctly seen by the subscribers as a special category, as is the ‘legal thriller’: “Lisa Scottoline is interviewed on The Mystery Corner this week, discussing legal thrillers. Scottoline’s a classy lady and her new book is Mistaken Identity”

(27 March 1999). Another poster elaborates on the same book: “MISTAKEN IDENTITY is

Lisa’s latest legal thriller” (1 May 1999) featuring “Bennie Rosato” who steps in at the 11th hour to defend a client accused of brutally murdering her lover, a highly decorated police detective” (1 May 1999). The poster suggests that 84

nothing can prepare her for the moment she enters the prison to meet her new

client, Alice Connolly, face to face. There is such an uncanny resemblance

between lawyer and client that Bennie can not simply dismiss Connolly’s

claim that they are identical twins. Half of Lisa insists that she doesn’t have a

twin but Connolly knows too much about Bennie's life and family for their

resemblance to be purely coincidental. Against her better judgment, Bennie

talks the case. With only a week to go before the trial, Bennie is desperately

seeking evidence of police misconduct and a far reaching conspiracy that

would give the defense something to work with. At the same time she is

plagued with questions about her own identity and her family’s past. Is

Connolly innocent? And Is she really Bennie's unknown sister? (1 May 1999)

Besides the plot details, the poster offers some evaluative information about the book:

“MISTAKEN IDENTITY will keep you turning pages and growling at any interruptions. It is a seamless blend of intrigue and courtroom drama but does not stop there. MISTAKEN

IDENTITY also makes the reader think about what constitutes love, loyalty and family” (1

May 1999). I believe that this is a ‘legal thriller’ with a tint of everyday human concerns.

Once again, there is a multiplicity of elements that would contradict the ‘hardboiled’ characterisation, leading me to believe that what has been defined as ‘hardboiled’ has undergone serious revision under modern social pressures and demands.

The second subcategory of the ‘thriller,’ the ‘suspense/espionage/cold war’ category may be seen in examples like the following where the term ‘spy’ is mentioned thus establishing the claim to a separate subcategory:

If you’ll be in New York any time between now and . . . um . . . whenever it

ends, don’t miss “Poe: The Ardent Imagination” at the Morgan Library on E.

36th and Madison Ave. The library is rather small for a museum, and the 85

charge for adults is a whopping $7, but the items on view, both in the Poe

exhibit and throughout the regular collection, are exquisite. The Poe exhibit

includes several autograph manuscripts of Poe’s poetry, letters and journals,

and some beautiful books of Poe’s works. In another room, they have a

display called “Detectives, Private Eyes and Spies,” which includes a

handwritten manuscript of Wilkie Collins’ _The Moonstone_ and some other

wonderful items. (23 April 1999)

There are, however, more eloquent examples of this ‘thriller’ category:

“The Statement” by Brian Moore (Dutton/William Abrahams [Pearson],

May1996) is a straightforward thriller about the tracking down of a French

war criminal. Chapters have alternate points of view, including those of the

hunter, the hunted, and the not-so-innocent bystander. Vividly told and fact-

based. Good reading after “Salamander”. In many ways it picks up the same

themes as Moore’s “Lies of Silence” and turns them around. Once again a

man is sought, once again he runs. The hero of “Lies” is without guile; this

man's life is powered by guilt. (10 January 1999)

Obviously, this description is not in the vein of the ‘cosy’ variety because it leaves in the mind of the reader a sense of haunted uneasiness, which is rather a characteristic of the

‘hardboiled.’

There are, then, 35 references to the ‘medical/legal’subcategory of the ‘thriller’ in the corpus, which raises the ‘thriller’ count to 90 individual postings. There is no degree of overlap here. The next step is to count the number of ‘suspense/cold war/ espionage’ subcategory of the ‘thrillers’ and add it to the 90 references so far. There are 8 references to the latter category, which makes the ‘thriller’ count 98 references recorded over the time span of January 1999- May 1999 inclusive. 86

Adding the ‘thriller’ category to that of the ‘hardboiled,’ I come up with 375 individual postings making reference to the ‘hardboiled’ variety under the name ‘hardboiled,’

‘police procedural,’ ‘private investigator,’ or ‘thriller,’ taking into consideration the fact that the latter may appear as simply’ thriller’ or’ medical/legal’ or ‘espionage/cold war thriller.’

Occasionally, the categories ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ co-occur. In one such instance where the two are mentioned the term ‘noir’ is used, apparently, interchangeably with

‘hardboiled:’ “What an interesting study in reading tastes. It seems there is a clear division between hard-boiled and cozy. If Michael Connely headed a list, I knew for certain that I wouldn’t be on it. And yet the lists have been fairly evenly divided between hard-boiled and cozy. I’d be interested to know how many Dottlers switch between noir and cozy and enjoy both equally” (8 January 1999). Another subscriber refers to the “NY/NJ chapter of Mystery

Writers of America [which] featured Ms Stasio as a speaker at their dinner meeting last month, and she shared some of the factors she considers when selecting books. Some that I recall are: variety (she doesn’t want all noirs, all cozies etc” (24 March 1999). This points to the fact that ‘noir’ and ‘hardboiled’ are closely linked in the mind of the contributors to

DorothyL since they appear as interchangeable to a certain degree as if they are on the same side of an imaginary continuum or given an ‘either or’ status in relation to the ‘cosy.’

There is a total of 27 such explicit references to ‘noir’ in the corpus, which from now on shall be considered as forming part of the ‘hardboiled’ variety and thus treated as in contrast to the ‘cosy.’ This means that this number must be added to that of the postings explicitly mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ or one of its constituents because the ‘noir’ is more likely to be associated with the ‘hardboiled’ rather than with the ‘cosy.’ After this process, the final number for the ‘hardboiled’ variety is 378 individual postings excluding of course any instances of co-occurrence, which means that each posting is only counted once. 87

As already mentioned, there are some instances in the postings where the two categories ‘hardboiled’ and ‘cosy’ co-occur. It should be noted that what is referred to here is explicit co-occurrence of the two categories ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ or any of their constituents. In the material analysed there are 73 such explicit cases.

The final number of postings where explicit mention is made of one of the two broad categories definitive of detective fiction or of both categories is 650. This number represents

8% of the total of 7675 postings between January and May 1999. These 650 postings will be taken as the corpus of this study.

The ‘cosy’ category, as shown in the chart below, is mentioned in 53 % of the final corpus. The number of postings making reference to a simple ‘cosy’ is 208, while the correspondent number for those mentioning a ‘historical cosy’ was calculated as 150. This amounts to 32 % and 23% of the 650 emails respectively. Of all references to the ‘cosy’ (345 postings), references to the ‘historical cosy’ occur in 43.5% of the postings, references to simple ‘cosy’ account for 60%; in 3.5% of the postings both types are mentioned. The chart below shows the share of the ‘cosy’ subgenres:

The ‘hardboiled’ category is mentioned in 58% of the final corpus. The category of the ‘private investigator’ is mentioned in 130 emails, that is, 20% of the 650 postings. The category of the ‘police procedural’ amounts to 18.3% of the 650 postings. Finally, the category of the ‘thriller’ has been calculated as 98, which translates to 15.1 % of the 650 88 postings. The term ‘noir,’ appearing in 27 postings amounts to 7% references in relation to the final corpus of 650 postings.

Of all references to the ‘hardboiled’ category (391 postings), references to the

‘hardboiled’ occur in 101 cases, that is, in 25.8 % of the postings, while references to the

‘police procedural’ amount to 106, that is, 27.1% of the ‘hardboiled’ category. However, there is an overlap of 14 postings where both subgenres are mentioned. This means that the final number of postings for the ‘hardboiled’ and the ‘police procedural’ taken together is

193, 49.4 % of the 391 postings.

To this number one must add the postings making reference to the ‘private investigator’ subgenre which is mentioned 130 times (33.3% of the 391 postings). Again, however, there is an overlap with the category of the ‘hardboiled,’ comprising so far the

‘hardboiled’ and the ‘police procedural.’ This overlap amounts to 39 postings.

The ‘thriller’ is the final subgenre that must be added to the general ‘hardboiled’ category. The former amounts to 98 (25.1% of the 391) postings with an overlap of 8 cases with the ‘hardboiled’ category. The postings of the ‘hardboiled’ category thus become 374

(95.6%). Finally, the ‘noir’ appears only in 27 postings (6.9% of the 391) but, again, there is an overlap of 10 cases where the ‘hardboiled’ is also mentioned. Thus, the final number of postings for the ‘hardboiled’ category is 391 postings. The types referred to as ‘hardboiled,’

‘police procedural,’ ‘private investigator,’ and ‘thriller,’ thus, each make up and approximately 25% of the ‘hardboiled’ genre, while the ‘noir’ is less frequently mentioned and appears to be simply another term for ‘hardboiled’ in general. The ‘noir’ is often used metonymically to describe ‘hardboiled’ properties and is, therefore, categorised with it for the rest of the analysis. The share of these types in the overall category ‘hardboiled’ is because of the complexity attributed to the multiplicity of cases of overlap, too complex to present in a chart. 89

So the main categories formulated for the purposes of this study are as follows:

Genre of ‘Cosy’ Genre of ‘Hardboiled’ (345 mentions) (391 mentions)

‘Cosy’ ‘Hardboiled’ & ‘Private Investigator’& & Historical Cosy ‘Police Procedural’ & ‘Thriller’ & ‘Noir’

The share of each genre in the final corpus is 53.1% of 650 postings for the ‘cosy’ and

60.2% of 650 postings for the ‘hardboiled.’ The degree of overlap amounts to 13.2%. Thus the following chart is formulated:

The ‘hardboiled’ is primarily associated with the American tradition, whereas the

‘cosy,’ is usually associated with the English tradition in some way. The discussion of the book Night Train offered by one of the subscribers is evident of instances of crossover in the

American and British traditions of detective fiction. Speaking of Night Train, the subscriber admits that the “book’s atmosphere is as resolutely noir” (15 April 1999) but adds that the writer “plays a cat-and-mouse game with the conventions of this branch of the genre, mocking and paying homage to them at the same time. He also meditates on the role of perfection in an imperfect world. This is as much a fairy tale as a crime novel” (15 April

1999). For these reasons, the contributor wants to know “how authentic” is this

“quintessential noir by one of the best British writers around” particularly referring to how the “first person narrative sounds to an American ear (and a female one at that)” (15 April

1999). Another subtle definition of the two subgenres then relates to the distinction between 90

American and British traditions of mystery writing and how their respective characteristics crossover.

The Major Isotopies

Having decided on a final representative corpus, and after having identified the main categories on which the discussion will be based, I must now identify the codes that are implicated in the discussions of the two main categories. This is the scope of the rest of this chapter, which will rely on Greimasian structural semantics, as earlier established. As already pointed out, the readers who contribute to DorothyL operate with a conception of two major subgenres of detective fiction, the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled.’ In other words, the categories of ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ that the readers of DorothyL employ in their discussions of ‘genre’ can be considered, from the point of view of Greimasian analysis, as two broad semantic isotopies that structure their discourse. They distinguish between these two major categories in terms of a series of elements which are particularly pronounced in the postings and associated with the discussion of genre. I identify these elements as the ‘sleuth,’ the

‘setting,’ the ‘social context’ and the ‘tone.’ To specify what for them are the essential characteristics of each of these categories, the next step will involve the definition of the isotopies that can be seen to intersect with the major categories of ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ which will eventually allow for the definition of codes for each category.

I will discuss the isotopies of the agent of the action (‘the sleuth’), the ‘setting,’ the

‘social context’ and the ‘tone’ of the novel which, as already mentioned, are significant for the posters. Not all of the semantic elements that make up these isotopies (the ‘sleuth,’ for instance, includes the semes for living being/human/gender/age/ ethnicity/etc) will be discussed. Instead, the focus will be on the fundamental semantic oppositions within each isotopy that link it to the categories of ‘hardboiled’ and ‘cosy,’ on the one hand, and on the 91 way in which the isotopies are related to each other in the discourse of the postings, on the other.

As it surfaces in the corpus, the agent of the resolution of crime, the ‘sleuth,’ can be seen as a polysemous noun that needs to be disambiguated by a contextual seme, since for

Greimas “the theory of textual coherence is based on the concept of contextual semes: the

‘iterativity’ (recurrence) of contextual semes, which connect the semantic elements of discourse (sememes), assures its homogeneity and coherence” (Nöth 319). Indeed, “In its syntagmatic extension, an isotopy is constituted by all those textual segments which are connected by one contextual seme.” The first such seme which seems to interest the readers of DorothyL in relation to the ‘sleuth,’ concerns the sleuth’s professional status. The polysemous noun ‘sleuth’ is disambiguated by a contextual seme in another word, such as

‘police officer,’ ‘private investigator’, or ‘pet shop owner.’ For the subscribers to DorothyL, such a significant difference as between ‘pet shop owner’ and ‘police officer’ or ‘private investigator’ “is due to a semantic opposition which may be described metalinguistically”

(Nöth 317) by the features ‘professional’ and ‘non professional’ or ‘amateur.’ The difference between ‘professional’ and ‘non professional,’ “which is a relation of disjunction, presupposes the recognition of some semantic ‘resemblance,’ the semic category of” (Nöth

317) ‘professionalism,’ which is a constituent in both ‘amateur’ (non professional) and

‘police officer’ or ‘private investigator’ (professional). This common category constitutes a relation of conjunction. “Such a twofold semantic constellation is defined as an elementary structure of signification. Its model is a linear semantic axis with two elements at its ends.

The axis represents the common semantic feature (the semic category)” (Nöth 317), that is, the category of ‘professionalism.’ At the two extremes are the semes ‘professional’ and ‘non professional’ whose function is to differentiate signification. For the readers of DorothyL, the subgenre of the ‘cosy’ implies an amateur sleuth. In contrast, the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth must 92 be a professional. Professionalism or the lack of it is an important parameter in forming preferences, as subscribers to the site of DorothyL often suggest: the amateurs in ‘cosies’

“allow me, the reader, to imagine how a normal person very much like me would deal with an aberrant situation. Seeing regular folks act with courage, resource, and intelligence is a lot of fun, and subtly glorifies people who don’t, at first glance, seem very impressive” (14 June

1998). For others, “some fairly ordinary sort of person who feels for some reason that it’s up to him or her to help solve a murder” is “quite comforting” (22 February 1998). While the

‘cosy,’ therefore, privileges the idea that “it is not beyond the power of ordinary people to have an impact for the good” (29 February 1998), the ‘hardboiled’ focuses on the heroic professional crime fighter whose only real vice would perhaps be “the enormous amount of alcohol he invariably consumes” (6 December 1998) something which could be seen as the mark that his surrounding world, a world of corruption has left on him. Kelly suggests,

“Reason /emotion and professional/ amateur are binary opposites that in mystery fiction almost invariably co-occur in mutual and reciprocal implication, definition, and reinforcement. The professional exemplifies instrumental rationality and unflappability. …

Mystery writers have beliefs- about the genre’s constitutive conventions, about what-goes- with-what, about what readers want and will accept, for example” (156). However, in the material from DorothyL I do not find sufficient proof to sustain the reason /emotion versus professional/ amateur schema. For all the above, the first isotopy that can be identified is that of the Sleuth which appears as follows:

Isotopy of the Sleuth

Semic Category of Professionalism Non-professional Professional Amateur Non-amateur

‘Cosy’ ‘Hardboiled’ 93

The surrounding world is the next isotopy that this project will focus on. ‘Setting’ catches the interest of the posters to DorothyL and may be seen as extending over two broad categories: ‘village’ and ‘city.’ The difference between ‘village’ and ‘city’ is due to a semantic opposition which may be described metalinguistically by the features ‘rural’ and

‘urban.’ The difference between ‘rural’ and ‘urban’ presupposes the recognition of some semantic resemblance, the semic category of ‘geographical space,’ which is a defining parameter in both ‘rural’ and ‘urban.’ These two categories link this isotopy to a series of other semic elements.

The hierarchy involved here may be illustrated via the way posters express their preferences: ‘cosies’ most often involve an “English village mystery that takes place in a world that is predominantly good” (January 1997). The element of an “insular place”

(October 1999), a “place within the setting of normal society- outside of the drug world and mean streets of the city” (April 2000) indicates that the rural setting involves special qualities for the readers, who tend to attribute to it characteristics such as “delightful” (29 April 2000),

“charming” (16 July 1999), “snug” (13/14 October 1998), “comfortable, friendly, and intimate” (17 November 2003). Other readers object that this setting is so ‘cosy’ that it precludes the possibility of anyone being able to “come up with a solution to the mystery because to think that way is to call to question the essential values” (18 December 1999).

The point made by another reader that owing to these qualities ‘cosy’ stories “are not believable” should not be disregarded (June 1998). Indeed, ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction is said to have a “wider believability range” (4 September 1998).

Those in favour of ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction privilege this subgenre largely because of its urban setting. They do not, however, necessarily find it more realistic. As one reader eloquently put it, “the urban setting is required because only in horrendously expensive inner cities could an investigator survive while earning no money, suffering 94 thousands of dollars worth of medical treatment per case, and buying enough booze to keep his or her head boiled” (September 1997). This description indirectly points to the excessive criminality and the added difficulties that arise in combating it in an urban environment. For the readers another reason that grounds this preference is the fact that an urban setting allows the detective to be “basically mobile” as he has often to move from “place to place to interview characters” (September 2000), in contrast to the ‘cosy’ where the implication of an insular place is unavoidable. The second isotopy then is that of the setting and appears as follows.

Isotopy of the Setting Semic Category of Settlement Village City Rural Urban ‘Cosy’ ‘Hardboiled’

Realism in the ‘cosy’ seems, for these readers, to be achieved mainly through the interpersonal relationships that the sleuth forms. In a ‘cosy’ setting, the sleuth is allowed to form interpersonal relationships, thus, appearing a more realistic and ordinary person. This is an element that the ‘cosy’ readers seek in their readings for it enhances the image of the sleuth as a common everybody. “Relationships with significant people in their lives not directly tied to the mystery itself are especially poignant” (December 1998) writes one subscriber in relation to the ‘cosy’ world. Another poster summarises: “cosy characters don’t have to be loners. They can have family members and friends who age and change … as they themselves can do. I’d hate to see a [‘cosy’] series where characters stagnate” (March

2001). The driving force in ‘cosy’ stories, therefore, for these readers is “character”

(December 2001). In contrast, in an urban setting, the detective has a limited number of interpersonal relationships, though this may be compensated for by the introduction of “an 95 assistant with whom he or she has a Holmes-Watson relationship” (November 1996) or the detective “may have colleagues or a devoted secretary” (December 1996).

Discussions of setting in the postings to DorothyL inevitably lead to discussions of characters via the element of intimacy and the degree to which it is employed in each subgenre. As many readers acknowledge, in ‘cosies’ “supporting players become something more. They are gradually actively helping out or popping up in every other scene to cause aggravation for the protagonists” (June 2000). Thus, based on readers’ preferences, the two ends of the semantic axis of the social environment in the detective novel may be formulated as ‘intimacy’ and ‘non intimacy.’ In this line of thought, subscribers see characters as

‘helpers’ or ‘frustrators’ of the sleuth in the process of establishing order. The more intimate the environment, as in the ‘cosy,’ the more peripheral characters take on a disruptive role and do not facilitate the resolution of crime. On the other hand, in the ‘hardboiled’ detective story, characters give evidence of a less frustrating performance. In ‘cosies,’ “the murder is often a result of past tensions, jealousies, betrayals” (September 2000) as opposed to “random killings” which is usually the case in ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction where “organized crime is more common” (January 2001) and murder is less of a personal affair. Even the role of the police in ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction is not seen as disruptive in the sense of the ‘cosies.’

Quite often the “sleuth and the police co-operate” (13 October 2002) which implies that, within the corrupt world portrayed in the ‘hardboiled,’ the sleuth is not alone in his search for justice. In the cases, however, where the police is corrupt a different scenario emerges in which the sleuth takes the role of their “antagonist” (27 November 2001). In contrast, in the

‘cosies,’ the peripheral characters do not interfere with the solution of the mystery in the way of actively hindering it or becoming antagonists. Their “sole intention is to help” (17

December 2002). The third isotopy I identify in the postings of the subscribers is that of the social context and it appears as follows: 96

Isotopy of the Social Context Semic Category of Intimacy Intimate Non-intimate/Anonymous Rural Urban ‘Cosy’ ‘Hardboiled’

I need to make one more point regarding the status of the characters other than the sleuth and this primarily involves the villain and is again related to the degree of intimacy. The proximity of characters in ‘cosy’ detective stories takes on a new light when I consider it in relation to the role of the villain. The readers of ‘cosies’ do not hesitate to stress, at various points, that the villain is “either an outsider or some insider who has already gone beyond community value boundaries and threatened the stability of the community by doing so, which of course led to the villain committing the murder in order to hide his or her deviance and thus be able to remain a part of the community” (August 1999). To put it simply, I believe that the villain has become estranged as he has lost the intimacy with the rest of the community and has thus strayed. The degree of intimacy seems to be responsible for the general image of society in ‘cosies.’ As already mentioned, in the readers’s view society is seen as an idyllic place and the only disruptive element is the crime committed by an estranged individual. Criminality, therefore, and its pertaining elements are seen and dealt with as external elements foreign to the nature of things in the small-town society of ‘cosies.’ “Graphic violence is eschewed in cosies” (December

1999). Thus, the fourth main isotopy, the tone emerges:

Isotopy of the Tone Semic Category of Violence Non-violent Violent ‘Cosy’ ‘Hardboiled’ 97

Readers also note differences in the technique between the ‘hardboiled’ and ‘cosy’ books. They suggest that the ‘tone’ and its variations in the ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ varieties are markedly different. The language of ‘cosies’ does “not permit the use of four letter words” (June 2002) while the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre is more “vulgar” (June 2002) and characters just like the sleuth himself (or herself) talk as the person of their “age talks - that is with a rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham and a contempt for pettiness” (November 2001).

Taking the poster’s views into consideration, I thus single out as especially significant for these posters the professional status of the sleuth and the setting of the story, with the different degrees of intimacy and character development, and the differences in narrative tone, that these settings are felt to imply. Thus, the major semantic codes that may be identified in the corpus under examination are the following:

The Major Codes of the Subgenres of Detective Fiction

“Cosy” vs “Hardboiled”

Code of Sleuth Amateur vs Professional

Code of Setting Rural vs Urban

Code of Social Context Intimate vs Anonymous

Code of Tone Non - violent vs Violent

The theoretical backbone used for the study at hand, that is, Greimasian structural semantics, has facilitated the systematic definition of the most important codes in the discussions of posters. It must be noted that Kelly suggests that codes of this kind constitute a “type of constraint on writing mystery fiction” as they are “culturally constituted, taken for granted categorical relationships of the sort embodied in such familiar and ubiquitous binary oppositions as reason/emotion” (154), his overriding binary opposition. Kelly sees this opposition as underpinning the distinction professional/amateur for two reasons. First, it 98 defines an important parameter: “Composure, the ability to think effectively and act decisively under the twin pressures of high risk and limited time” which is “essential …of the demeanor associated with professionals per se” (155). Second, in Kelly’s words,

“Adherence to professional standards… works a measure of predictability into circumstances of uncertainty and offers a limited basis for rational planning, at least within acceptable tolerances of risk, by assigning a probability to an unanticipated action; thus it offers some basis for trust” (155). As a result, Kelly concludes, “Reason/emotion and professional/amateur are binary opposites that in mystery fiction almost invariably co-occur in mutual and reciprocal implication, definition, and reinforcement” (156). However, as already mentioned, I have not found in the corpus sufficient evidence to support this argument. Kelly refers to another type of binary opposition identified in the project at hand.

This is the urban/rural environment opposition. Kelly stresses that the emergence of the former changed the mentality of people, by introducing cognitive schemas that would allow them to survive in the world of modernity. As Kelly suggests, “The advice and success books published after 1870s typically advocate aggressiveness and charm and skillful management of appearances” (14). This perception implicates the idea of intimacy or lack of it that I identify as the third code for the current project. The fourth code I identify in the current project is the code of tone which Kelly associates with fear rather than violence, thus pointing to a difference with the project at hand: The current analysis focuses on what the

DorothyL posters actually write about their reading experience and does not, at least not at this point in the study, attempt to draw inferences from this. It remains to be seen whether the project at hand will validate, for example, Robert Wiebe’s identification of the fear of potential violence that comes with the modernity-induced anonymity which urges people to lead their lives in “mutual suspicion” (14), or Kelly’s conviction: “Mystery fiction 99 participates in the reproduction of cultural meanings by means of repetition- instance after instance of a concept, such as reason or rationality-and consistency” (154). 100

Chapter Five

Statistical Analysis of the Corpus

“It is easy to lie with statistics. It is hard to tell the truth without statistics.” Andrejs Dunkels

In this chapter I perform the statistical analysis of the corpus in order to reveal reader preferences. This will be done in fours parts. The first part focuses on the sleuth, the second on the social context, the third on the setting and the time, and the fourth on the technique.

Sleuth

The main parameters involved in the code of the sleuth are numerous. As a poster eloquently puts it, “by having a wonderful wealth of mysteries to choose from with detectives of either sex, all ethnic backgrounds, etc., the best of the mysteries are better than ever and we (readers of mysteries) have ALL won” (26 April 2000).

Posters consider the professional status of a sleuth as among the most decisive characteristics. Sleuths, therefore, must “fall somewhere between professional and amateur”

(4 March 2002), but most posters agree that writers should not exaggerate the amateur status by “having a cat solve the crime” (19 January 1999). In contrast, they welcome the appearance of sleuths who are amateur but with a professional background. Thus, it is not disagreeable for posters to read stories like Charles Willeford’s Shark Infested Custard in which they witness “an ex cop, a pilot, a salesman and a drug company representative … strike up a fairly superficial friendship” and start sleuthing (31 Jul 2003).

Posters also consider a developed personality a prerequisite for the constitution of the sleuth. Their ideal detective is generally one who is “fully realized by the author, his or her every angle imagined and set down on paper, no matter the genre” (9 March 2009). Despite their demand for “informed protagonists” (9 March 2009), posters also stress that they expect 101 the sketching of the sleuth’s personality not to be at the expense of plot. As a subscriber puts it, “I want the sleuth to connect with normal life... in the background” because “It is as if modern authors believe the only way to deepen character is to describe the sleuth’s sexual or family relationships … Doesn’t character consist of more than that? What about his attitudes and opinions about the crime or criminals, his interests and loves other than other people, his ethics, morals, goals?” (24 July 2004). Most posters gladly accept detective fiction that manifests the sleuth’s stances in relation to such key issues. Unavoidably, therefore, poster discussions implicate parameters such as marital status, gender, and race. Their statistical importance is dictated by the fact that the variables that each involves may be said to shape a different mentality or life stance that posters want their fiction to elaborate. To illustrate, sleuth Carole Ann, featured in Where To Choose by Penny Micklebury, is for a poster “a role model of female empowerment” because “even as she is well aware of racism and sexism” and despite being “A widow for over a year,” she “is comfortable being a Black woman” (15

January 1999). As another poster summarises it, “by attracting women looking for good reads to a once mostly male bastion” (26 April 2000), detective fiction has had to accommodate their worldviews but also their preferences: “I wanted to create a mature, complicated, competent--believable, if not always loveable--woman who was absolutely not a fluffy and sexless ‘little old lady.’ And I wanted the invisibility that society ‘grants’ mature women to act in her favor as a sleuth” (5 April 1999), a subscriber suggests. But preference also entails dismissal. In this case of “these 1930s stories about the daring, but always lady- like, teen-age sleuth” (20 October 1999) of the Nancy Drew type. These stories appear unable to impress older readers who would be more interested in Camille Minichino’s The

Lithium Murder because “The protagonist is an older woman ‘of ample proportions’--so there’s a sleuth of size for you, and she’s ‘graying’ so there’s a sleuth of age for you” (19

January 2000). All in all, posters are mostly appreciative of “a few writers out there who can 102 give a detective a personal life, and even a few ideas about the world at large, without forgetting to tell a good story” (17 April 1999).

Sleuth in the ‘Cosy’

It is important that some contributors seem intent on refusing any particular characteristic the status of defining parameter for the ‘cosy,’ even that of the detective:

“amateurs or professionals; …lone wolf or social butterfly; …faithful SO or promiscuous, etc. etc. I’ve decided to use none of these criteria for classifying my mysteries. It will be purely subjective” (13 May 1999). However, as the statistical analysis proves, several characteristics are very important for the majority of the posters.

Statistically, the ‘cozy’ is associated with the term ‘sleuth,’ as it appears in 104 of the 208 postings referring to the ‘cosy.’ There is, then, a staggering 50%, which indicates that the ‘sleuth’ is an important feature in defining the ‘cosy.’ Such postings clearly identify the status of the sleuth: “The Fax Of Life is an entertaining, quite amusing cozy. Like the previous novel, The Cold Hard Fax, this amateur sleuth mystery centers on the humorous

Molly” (27 March 1999). Another subscriber explains this preference: “I love the amateur sleuths. I like being able to see the mystery as something that could happen to me” (2

February 1999). The term ‘amateur’ is explicitly associated with the ‘cosy’ as it appears in

71 of the 104 postings mentioning the sleuth in relation to the ‘cosy,’ 68.3%, as shown below.

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However, it is also important to notice that of these 71 references to an ‘amateur sleuth’ in the

‘cosy’ there are two which point to a different direction. These two acknowledge the widespread perception of linking the ‘cosy’ to an amateur sleuth and allow for some degree of innovation by associating the latter with other subgenres. “All amateur detectives do not appear in cozies” (10 May 1999), a subscriber mentions. This comment draws the following response: “I think this is a minority opinion, esp. on DL… But ... [a]mateurs and cozies are not interchangeable, although I suspect there’s a lot of overlap” (10 May 1999). Several subscribers make a clear connection between amateur sleuths and subgenres other than the

‘cosy.’ Ransom For Killing by Fred Hunter, for instance, “is a great blending of a police procedural with an amateur sleuth story” (24 January 1999), which reveals considerable perplexity in defining the subgenres of detective fiction as one may wonder how a ‘police procedural’ may involve an amateur detective. The same subscriber explains: “The dark story line is first rate but tempered by the warm, respectful, and devoted relationship between the lead characters, normally found in a pure cozy” (24 January 1999). The blending involves the amateur sleuth and the ‘dark story line’ indicative of the violence-dominated ‘hardboiled’ books and consequently ‘police procedurals.’ For such cases, the question, therefore, arises as to what kind of book this is perceived to be.

Despite the distinction between professional or amateur sleuths “there are about a bazillion characters who straddle the line; not exactly a cop or P.I., not exactly a newborn babe in the wild. Molly Cates from Mary Willis Walker’s books is a crime reporter ... Kent

Krueger’s Cork O’Connor is an ex-sherriff who down deep misses being a cop .... I’d be interested in hearing others’ opinions about ‘borderline’ amateurs” (12 May 1999), a subscriber explains. However, the borderline amateur is not the only such category singled out by the posters. To them, the sleuth may also take the persona as that appearing in The

Cactus Club Killing “featuring Joe Portugal, a part-time actor and full-time plant lover” who 104 is reported to be “a reluctant sleuth” (13 May 1999). This classification, another poster admits, creates “trouble with the amateur sleuth designation” and so does the classification as

“a nonsleuth” who is a sleuth that “tends to get wrapped up in messes due to circumstances beyond her control” (13 May 1999). Such cases are often problematic for posters because

“when it comes to amateur detective stories, it’s pretty hard to justify the lead character’s involvement. It’s such a joy to come across a well-constructed motivation that doesn’t so much as jar” a reader’s “willing suspension of disbelief” (14 January 1999). Believability is, therefore, an important issue related to the amateur status but “The fact is, books about real housewives, medieval monks ... would be mind-numbingly boring. An author sets out a premise upon which to base his/her story. If I can accept the premise, and if the story ... is consistent and believable within that premise, there’s good chance I’m going to enjoy reading it (31 January 1999), another poster explains.

Subscribers also refer to sleuth professions in 35 postings. Daisy Dalrymple, who has “decided to earn her living as a journalist,” (7 April 1999) is only one example of the category. This category also features reporters and columnists and appears in 7 postings of the total of 35 referring to the fulltime professions of amateur sleuths. There are also teachers and professors like Gloria Lamerino in The Lithium Murder a “retired physics professor” (27

April 1999) or Nick Hoffman a “college professor” (16 May 1999) in Raphael Lev’s Let’s

Get Criminal. Four instances of 35 involve private business owners such as Judith Flynn in

Legs Benedict: A Bed And Breakfast Mystery by Mary Daheim, who “runs Hillside Manor, a bed and breakfast place” (3 April 1999) and who has been forced to start sleuthing. There are also sleuths like “Lucy Stone, housewife and mother of four” (23 January 1999).

Furthermore, there is an assortment of other professions. Christine Bennett, is a nun, in Lee

Harris’ The Passover Murder (30 May 1999) and “Father Griffin Reed ... the widowed rector” (31 May 1999). Finally, there are three instances mentioning other professions in 105 relation to sleuths. These include “office manager, Betty Trenka” (12 May 1999), “Joe

Portugal, a part-time actor and full-time plant lover” (13 May 1999), or Joan Spencer who besides being the widow of a priest is a musician (13 March 1999). These 35 postings related to the 104 postings mentioning the sleuth in the ‘cosy’ amount to 33.7% whilst in relation to the 71 postings mentioning an amateur sleuth the result is 49.3% . The distribution of professions is as follows:

PROFESSION FREQUENCY Journalist, reporter, columnist, writer 7 Private employee 8 Housewife 6 Business owner 4 Professor, teacher 4 State employee 3 Various 3

It is also noteworthy that there are in the corpus 7 references to the sleuth being retired or fired, that is 6.7% of the 104 postings mentioning the sleuth. One example is

“Leigh [who is] approaching her 30th birthday with some trepidation [since she] has just been laid off” (18 march 1999) and another “retired meteorologist Stanley Walters” (11 January

1999). It appears that the majority of women sleuths, unlike men sleuths, whose profession is mentioned in the postings, are more likely to have been removed from their jobs (with the exception of the housewives).

However, the helpless amateur is not always devoid of assistance. There is usually a side character who offers the amateur sleuth information or expertise, especially as that character is usually a policeman of some sort as in Diane Mott Davidson’s The Cereal

Murders in which “a suburban mom-cum-sleuth was in a relationship with a cop, a fact that almost sua sponte defines the cozy category” (21 March 1999). Women are more likely to 106 receive assistance from a male cop or detective who is also their spouse or boyfriend than men to receive assistance from their significant other.

Assistance, however, may also come from a pet. For example, Cat On The Scent, besides featuring a female sleuth, will make “Readers ...believe that animals can talk, relate, and do cognitive thinking and inductive reasoning as well an any amateur sleuth” (14

February 1999). There are 13 such references to animals involved in the sleuthing process in a book that may be labelled ‘cosy,’ which amounts to 6.3 % of the 208 postings mentioning the ‘cosy.’

Subscribers to DorothyL also describe the ‘cosy’ sleuth in relation to the degree of development the latter displays. Simple Justice by John Morgan Wilson, allows the reader to

“dig deeper into the mystery of Justice himself, and he’s an interesting and complex character” (5 February 1999). Meg, the sleuth in Murder With Peacocks, is given a family and is involved in the torrents of marriage preparations, far from being a lone wolf who is called upon to solve murders or one who just happens to be involved in a murder-solving enterprise: “I found Meg’s voice delightful. She is a well-defined character who is amusing, with a dry, sardonic and sometimes waspish wit” (11 April 1999), a subscriber stresses, thus explaining why a developed sleuth is important for readers.

But a full blown character must also be believable. The opposite is completely undesirable. “COMPLETELY UNBELIEVABLE,” a poster exclaims about a book which presents a rather naïve reality: “Any 2d-year law student, married to a lawyer, who doesn’t know YOU HIRE A LAWYER in a divorce from a lawyer, doesn’t deserve to ever be a lawyer”(14 April 1999). Of 104 postings mentioning the sleuth in relation to a ‘cosy,’ there are 41 postings that qualify him or her as a developed personality which amounts to 39.4%, as shown in the chart below. 107

Moreover, sleuth gender is important for the posters to DorothyL as it is indicative of the extent to which the genre has opened up to include more women. Of the 104 postings making reference to a sleuth, 65 (62.5%) explicitly make reference to a female protagonist such as “Agatha Raisin, amateur sleuth extraodinaire” in “the fabulous English cozy [Agatha

Raisin And The Wizard Of Evesham] by the great M.C.Beaton” (5 April 1999). Men, on the other hand, appear in 31 (29.8%) of the 104 postings mentioning the sleuth in relation to a

‘cosy.’ Thus, there are twice as many women as men sleuths referred to in the ‘cosy.’

In the definition of the ‘cosy’ sleuth, subscribers also refer to the sleuth’s age. There are two instances in which a young sleuth is mentioned. Charlie’s Bones by L. L. Thrasher reveals “the young heroine’s voice and perspective on life” (25 January 1999). There are also middle-aged protagonists who are mostly women. The M Word by Jane Isenberg features

“menopausal protagonist Bel Barrett” (7 January 1999). There are, finally, 3 references to elderly sleuths in the corpus, generally described as “the same little old lady stumbling over dozens of bodies” (30 January 1999). Age is mostly mentioned when it comes to talking about a female sleuth. The frequency reveals that “a vigorous, intelligent amateur sleuth a bit older than the average” (24 February 1999) is the most common description. Elderly and, finally, young sleuths receive less attention. But age does not seem to be a very significant factor in the conception of the amateur sleuth since only 10 instances (9.6% of the ‘cosy’ postings mentioning the sleuth) mention the age of the sleuth. The internal distribution is shown below: 108

AGE CATEGORY FREQUENCY

Young 2 Middle aged 5 Elderly 3 Total 10 Marital status is also mentioned explicitly 15 times in the corpus, possibly because posters generally demand well-developed characters and details about the protagonists’ private life when reading a ‘cosy.’ A subscriber testifies to it: “As for me I’ll take the series books to find out if they will marry that cop, ever solve their family problems, etc” (31

January 1999). Marital status of the sleuth is mentioned in 14.4% of the 104 references to sleuths in the ‘cosy.’ As with previous characteristics, this one, too, is more likely to be mentioned when reference is made to a female sleuth rather than a male one; there are 11 references to the marital status of a female which amounts to 16.9% of the 65 postings mentioning a female sleuth and 4 to that of a male sleuth which amounts to 12.9% in relation to the 31 postings mentioning a male sleuth in relation to a ‘cosy.’

Sleuth in the ‘Historical Cosy’

Of the 150 postings making reference to a ‘historical cosy,’ 78 also mention the sleuth that is 52%. This is slightly more than half as it appears in the chart below:

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In the 78 postings that mention the sleuth in the ‘historical cosy,’ there are 42 references to men, 20 references to women, 10 references to both men and women and 6 postings where there is no mention of gender. To be more specific, in the ‘historical cosy’ corpus, there are 52 references to a male sleuth, that is, 66.7% of the 78 postings mentioning a sleuth in relation to a ‘historical cosy,’ in contrast to 30 references made to a female which amounts to 38.5% of the 78 postings mentioning the sleuth in relation to a ‘historical cosy.’

There are, then, almost twice as many mentions of men as women sleuths in the ‘historical cosy’ which is the reverse result seen in the statistics of the clear-cut ‘cosy.’ The following examples are indicative of the above categories. In Cure For a Charlatan by Caroline V.

Roe, “Isaac, accompanied by his apprentice Yusef and his daughter-assistant Raquel, races against time to prove that a devious and deadly con artist is behind the apparent devilish disease” (13 January 1999). In Death at Rottingdean by Robin Paige “Charles’ Irish-

American spouse Kate accompanies her beloved mate ... to investigate the two killings ... and the married couple concludes that most of the townsfolk are engaged in illicit smuggling with the contraband stored beneath the city” (2 February 1999). In this example, it is both Charles and his spouse who reach the conclusion as to what is really happening, thus, allowing the female presence an equal position in the sleuthing process in relation to her male companion.

Occasionally, however, it is the female protagonist who receives precedence over the male sleuth as in Steel Ashes by Karen Rose Cercone featuring “Helen Sorby and Armenian police detective Milo Katchurian” (17 May 1999), which is indicative of a strong female presence.

On the contrary, in some postings, for instance, in Concubine’s Tattoo by Laura Joh

Rowland, where the protagonist is Sano Inchiro, and where “more difficult for the Most

Honorable Investigator is his new wife [who] refuses to stay at home” and “begins her own brand of sleuthing” (12 January 1999), the female is often presented as an assistant to the male sleuth, receiving a more negative (ironic) description and her sleuthing enterprise is 110 considered as disruptive. For DorothyL subscribers, then, in the ‘historical cosy’ it is men who outnumber women, and in cases where they coexist as sleuths, men tend to have a slight advantage in terms of the primary role.

Whether a sleuth is a developed character is of great importance to the subscribers to

DorothyL because 48 of the 78 postings mentioning the sleuth in the ‘historical cosy’ also mention this characteristic. The resultant percentage is 61.5% as shown in the chart below.

All in all, the postings mentioning developed sleuths, both male and female, amount to 48. More specifically, 33 postings mention a developed male sleuth and 19 postings mention a female developed sleuth. There is an overlap of 4 cases which mention both a male and female developed sleuth. There are then 29 references to male developed sleuths,

15 references to female developed sleuths and 4 references where both are mentioned. Thus, developed male sleuths are mentioned in 42.3% of the 78 postings mentioning a sleuth in the

‘historical cosy’ and developed female sleuths in 24.4% of the 78 postings mentioning the sleuth in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’ Moreover, the 33 postings mentioning a developed male sleuth in relation to the 48 postings mentioning developed sleuths in relation to a

‘historical cosy’ amount to 68.8% and the correspondent percentage for the 19 postings mentioning a developed female sleuth in relation to a ‘historical cosy’ is 39.6% of the 48 postings mentioning developed sleuths. Of the 30 postings mentioning a female sleuth in relation to a ‘historical cosy’ the 19 postings mentioning developed female sleuths amount to

63.3% while of the 52 postings mentioning a male sleuth in relation to a ‘historical cosy’ 111 the 33 postings mentioning developed male sleuths amount to 63.5%. It appears then that, although there are almost twice as many men as women sleuths mentioned in the ‘historical cosy’ the demand for them to be developed personalities is strong for both male and female sleuths. Cases that testify to the importance of the developed male sleuth for the ‘historical cosy’ include Concubine’s Tattoo in which “Sano has been a fully developed protagonist”

(12 January 1999) and in which his wife “Reiko adds much personal depth to her spouse's character, turning him into warmer sleuth” (12 January 1999). Similarly, another subscriber extols The Doublet Affair by Fiona Buckley “featuring Ursula Blanchard,” because the sleuth

“is changing and growing which makes a believable character” (2 February 1999).

The same subscriber also introduces an issue of credibility in the depiction of the sleuth Ursula in relation to her era. “It may be hard to believe that a woman would be independent enough to do the things Ursula does, but of course we have the model of

Elizabeth,” and indeed, “Ursula encounters many problems that a man would not, such as requiring an escort every time she leaves the farm or the palace. And men, even those who were not related to her or in any power, were free to order her around and threaten her” (2

February 1999). Another subscriber also asserts that “many authors have created quite believable characters. Since I tend to stick to historical mysteries, I’ve found that most of the women presented are women of their times, hampered by their beliefs, their skirts, or their attitudes in many cases” (29 January 1999). However, there are subscribers who are skeptical about the character credibility in more contemporary detective fiction: “Of course we do character development better these days. But do we? Think of what we know about Marlow based on the little we know of him? Or Poirot. These characters are more vivid because of the judicious use of what was shown about them. Again, I think it’s subtlety. ... Less can be more” (3 March 1999). 112

Sleuths are presented as leading a normal life and this means holding a job. In the

‘historical cosy,’ there are 49 postings that refer to the professions of the sleuth, 62.8 % of the

78 postings mentioning the sleuth. One of the statistically important categories is related to journalists or reporters, such as Helen Sorby who is also a “socialist social worker” (5

February 1999) in Coal Bones by Karen Rose Cercone (17 May 1999), or writers, like Aphra

Behn “a playwright in London although at one time she was a spy for the King’s spymaster”

(24 January 1999). Another category is that of professional detective such as “[police]

Detective Milo Kachurian” (5 February 1999) in Coal Bones by Karen Rose Cercone. There are also priests like “Gar [who] is a shaman in a group of Neanderthals” in Hyaenas, by

Sandy Dengler (25 January 1999), doctors like “Dr. Alejandro Canches, a Jewish physician” in The Burning Road by Ann Benson (6 April 1999), or even midwives. Statistics show that sleuths are often people with a title, such as Susanna the wife of Lord Robert Appleton, who starts to investigate a murder “knowing that Robert could be the killer” (9 May 1999).

Another category is that of maids or servants, like “Justin de Quincy who works as an agent for Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine” in Sharon Kay Penman’s Cruel As The Grave (2 March

1999). There are also some other categories mentioned such as that of Mr. Bartholomew

Hoare, the ex “naval lieutenant” (3 February 1999) or “famous painter Canaletto” (14 March

1999), or “Archeologist David Norfolk” ” (18 May 1999), or finally, “caterer Madeline

Bean” in Farmer’s first book called Sympathy For The Devil (1 May 1999).

There is, thus, a number of professions that one meets in both the ‘cosy’ and in the

‘historical cosy,’ but there are also certain differences which are clearly indicated in the table below:

113

PROFESSION COSY HISTORICAL COSY

Archaeologist 2 Artist 1 3 Business owner 5 1 Professor, instructor 4 Detective, justice department employee 1 12 Doctor 2 Housewife 6 1 Journalist/reporter/columnist 7 5 Spy 1 Priest, shaman, (ex) nun 4 3 Servant, maid, lady in waiting 6 Title holder, Nobleman or Noblewoman 1 5 Various (i.e., social worker, naval officer, 7 5 Wriarchaeologist)ter, playwright 3 4

A rather odd aspect of the ‘historical cosy’ is that 7 (9%) postings of 78 making reference to a ‘historical cosy’ sleuth also mention that the sleuth has health problems. “Isaac of Girona” is reported to be “a blind physician” (29 January 1999), in Death at Rottingdean,

Kate’s “efforts to become a successful Baroness lead to her miscarriage and inability to have children” (2 February 1999), and Mr. Bartholomew Hoare from Hoare and the Portsmouth

Atrocities by Wilder Perkins, “has been wounded in battle (3 February 1999), while in River of Darkness by Rennie Airth “Madden, ... has served in WWI and is suffering the after effects” (28 March 1999). Only one of the female sleuths mentioned appears to be facing some kind of a medical condition. The rest are all male sleuths suffering either from blindness or from some kind of psychological trauma.

Sleuth in the ‘Hardboiled’

The overall ‘hardboiled’ category, in addition to the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre, comprises the ‘noir,’ the ‘police procedural,’ the ‘private detective’ and the ‘thriller.’ I will discuss first the characteristics of the sleuth in the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre. 114

In the statistic analysis of the ‘hardboiled’ category it appears that, of 101 postings referring to a ‘hardboiled’ book, only 21 mention the sleuth as shown below:

In the 21 references to the ‘hardboiled’ hero there is also information regarding the gender of the protagonist in 17 of the cases. In 10 postings there is reference to a male sleuth and in 7 postings reference to a female sleuth. Male sleuths are mentioned in 47.6% of the postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth. They include, for example, the characters Will in the book About a Boy by Nick Hornby (10 January 1999), Dean Martin in Five Card Stud

(18 March 1999), Weary in Sean McGrady’s Dead Letters (5 April 1999) or, finally, Will

Hardesty in Richard Barre’s Blackheart Highway (1 April 1999).

The female sleuth is mentioned in 7 postings (only slightly less than the mentions of male sleuths) that is, in 33.3% of the 21 postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth. One such female sleuth is amateur sleuth Robin Light, a “Scotch-swilling, junk-food-eating

Syracuse exotics pet store owner with an ex-cop as a boyfriend” (6 February 1999).

It is important to notice that there are 9 mentions of amateur sleuths in connection with the ‘hardboiled’ (42.9% of the 21 mentions to a sleuth in the ‘hardboiled’) although, according to a subscriber, “These convenience labels all are generally imprecise” (14 May

1999). The internal differentiation of the category is minimal since there is only one amateur female sleuth. This is “Amateur sleuth Robin Light” (6 February 1999) in Barbara Block’s

“Robin Light series” (6 February 1999). In contrast, one may come across cases where the 115 female sleuth is a professional, such as Dixie Flannigan who is a” bounty hunter” (24 March

1999). Finally, there are two male amateur sleuths.

There are seven instances where the sleuth’s profession is mentioned (33.3% of the postings mentioning sleuth in the ‘hardboiled’). Such are the cases of “sleuth Robin Light

[who] is …[a] Syracuse exotics pet store owner” (6 February 1999), of Wearie a “postal inspector working in the dead letter department of the post office” (5 April 1999) in Dead

Letters, or of “a former cop, now a taxi driver” in Daughter Of Darkness by Ed Gorman (26

January 1999). As another subscriber says: “I also enjoy reading about an array of detectives, reporters, and investigators of all types who are much more hardboiled” (5 February 1999).

Sleuths possessing a developed personality and not being mere human caricatures are important in the ‘hardboiled.’ However, a subscriber expresses dissatisfaction with the current treatment of sleuth development:

What most old time mysteries did was concentrate on the plot and the mystery,

rather than get tangled up in extraneous personal discussions that put the

detective squarely at the center of the book, which is becoming more and more

common in today’s mysteries, where the reader has to wade through pages

about the detective’s kids, how to cook a pot roast, the problems of personal

financial management, or defenses of personal values....In regard to the hard

boiled school, the best of the professional detectives were more a part of the

background than featured players in the unfolding drama. Despite their

wisecracks and the lumps they took, they were there to record the misdeeds of

the characters at center stage, whose characters and offenses they might

analyze but seldom judged. At the hands of Hammett, Chandler and

Macdonald, that form of detective story achieved classic status, offering

character studies of far more depth than some of today’s writers can hope to 116

achieve, especially those who substitute the fluff of everyday life for true

delineation of character or proselytize in behalf of personal opinions and

values. (16 April 1999)

This ambivalence on the part of the readers towards the question of the ‘developed’ or

‘unchanging’ character of the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth seems to fade when seen in relation to the

12 instances discussing or mentioning the character development of a ‘hardboiled’ sleuth.

This amounts to 57.1% of the 21 postings mentioning the sleuth.

Of those twelve instances there are 3 (25% of the 12 postings mentioning developed sleuths in relation to the ‘hardboiled) related to a female sleuth. In other words, 42.9% of the 7 female sleuths mentioned in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ are developed. One such sleuth is

“Houston bounty hunter Dixie Flannigan” in Rage Factor by Chris Rogers (24 March

1999) who is “working on her relationship with a man she once ‘brought in,’ she’s injured bringing in a man who missed his trial date, and she’s hired to be a bodyguard for someone who doesn’t want to be guarded” (24 March 1999) and besides “all that, she still finds time to look into some incidents of vigilante justice. Hard-boiled little Dixie handles it all, but with doubts and worries and fears that keep this character believable” (24 March 1999).

There are also 3 instances (25% of the 12 postings mentioning developed sleuths in relation to the ‘hardboiled’) related to a developed male sleuth. The same number of 3 postings mentioning developed sleuths, if seen in relation to the 10 male sleuth references in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ amounts to 30%. One such sleuth is Will in About a Boy by Nick 117

Hornby, who is reported to be a “loner,” as are the protagonists in a typical ‘hardboiled’ story

(10 January 1999). Weary in Dead Letters by Sean Mc Grady, whose “life is not going too well and the case is disturbing to his psyche” (5 April 1999) is one more example.

Part of what makes a sleuth a developed personality is marital status that provides for a deeper interest in the protagonist besides the interest in their sleuthing abilities. There are only 4 instances (19% of the 21 postings mentioning a sleuth in relation to the ‘hardboiled’) which mention the sleuth’s marital status in the ‘hardboiled’ corpus, and of these, 3 refer to a single sleuth and one to a married one; two of the sleuths mentioned are women and two are men. In addition to Will in About a Boy by Nick Hornby, mentioned above, there is another telling case. In “NAKED IN DEATH, where Eve Dallas meets Roarke, [there is] the character many romance readers consider their all-time favorite romantic hero” (9 February

1999). The heroine from Barbara series Robin Light is reported to have “an ex cop as a boyfriend” (6 February 1999) while in A Dry Season by Peter Robinson one may witness

“Banks’ adaptation to single life, and the view of events leading up to the murder” (25 May

1999). It seems that, if marital status is significant enough to be mentioned at all, the norm for the ‘hardboiled’ sleuths, male or female, is to be single, often just beginning or ending a relationship.

Sleuth in the ‘Police Procedural’

Mention of the sleuth is more frequent in the postings discussing the ‘police procedural,’ possibly because the professional status of the sleuth is part of the definition of this subgenre. Of 106 postings mentioning the ‘police procedural,’ 86 also mention the sleuth

(81.1% of the total). 118

In books such as Blood Money by Rochelle Krich, Jessie Drake “remains a great person, who personalizes her investigation to the point of obsession, which in turn, provides readers with much insight and depth into a wonderful character” (18 January 1999) and in The Psalm

Killer by Chris Pettit the “male/female detective team stumbles fairly early on to a connection between Biblical passages which start appearing in the newspaper’s classified ads and a series of seemingly unrelated murders” (14 January 1999). Posters mentioning the ‘police procedural,’ then, give more details as to the main categories that define it. In contrast, the subscribers define simple ‘hardboiled’ books with less characteristics. As a result, posters are more eloquent in their descriptions of ‘police procedural’ sleuths than simple ‘hardboiled’ category sleuths.

There are 43 postings that mention a male sleuth and 8 that mention a female in the

‘police procedural’ category but there are also 17 postings where both are mentioned. In other words, the final number for male sleuths is 60 and the correspondent number for female sleuths is 25. In relation to the sleuth category of 86 postings, the female presence is 29.1% and the male presence is 69.8%. One, then, is more than twice as likely to encounter a male

‘police procedural’ sleuth rather than a female. The 17 of the postings that accommodate a team of male and female sleuth amount to 19.8% of the 86 postings referring to the sleuth.

Male and female sleuth teams in the ‘police procedural’ are many. For example, “middle- aged Cal Terrell and young, rich Roberta Short” are described as “Two mismatched, very argumentative D.C. cops” (12 may 1999). The portrayal of the two genders in this story is 119 seen as a constant embodiment of clashing attitudes. The poster stresses the fact that the two individuals occupy the two ends of an imaginary continuum with respect to gender and age.

Subscribers in their references to the ‘police procedural’ sleuth seem to favour a developed sleuth rather than the opposite. There are 63 references, 73.3%, of the 86 postings that mention the sleuth in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

Male ‘police procedural’ sleuths are described as developed characters in 41 postings, female in 20 postings. There are two postings where both a male and a female developed sleuth are mentioned. These amount to 43 references to male sleuths and 22 references to female. In relation to the 86 postings mentioning the sleuth in the ‘police procedural,’ the above numbers amount to 50% reference to a male developed sleuth and 25.6% reference to a female developed sleuth. However, if these percentages are seen in relation to the categories of the male (60 postings) and female (25 postings) sleuths respectively the percentages become 71.7% and 88%. When a sleuth then is mentioned in the ‘police procedural,’ the demand that he or she is a full-blown person is very strong.

There is a small but not insignificant group of postings (8 instances) in the ‘police procedural’ corpus which point to a concern for the sleuth’s health. In relation to 86 postings which mention the sleuth in the ‘police procedural,’ this amounts to 9.3%. The above category is not so important when considered per se but it becomes interesting when one adds the postings revealing concern for the sleuth’s health as they are described for all the

‘hardboiled’ sub-varieties and sees what interest this issue receives for those who enjoy 120

‘hardboiled’ books. For the time being, it is interesting to see the nature of the health problem the sleuth faces. In Book Shot by Ho Lotta Ammo “Brilliant master detective Jay

Seymour” is facing “periods of depression” (19 January 1999). In The Bone Collector by

Jeffery Deaver, “Lincoln Rhyme is a brilliant quadriplegic, confined largely to bed” (28

February 1999), and in Before She Dies by Steven F. Havill “Bill Gastner, undersheriff” who is 62 has a “heart problem” (13 March 1999). In The Seventh Sense by T.J. Mac Gregor a woman sleuth suffers miscarriage and psychological trauma after the death of a loved one (21

March 1999). River of Darkness by Rennie Airth deals with the imprint of war on the souls and bodies of people (5 May 1999), and in Night Train by Martin Amis, “the narrator is an alcoholic woman detective named Mike” (15 April 1999), whose addiction appears to be the cover for deeper psychological issues. A few instances, including Bluebottle by James

Sallis, describe the predicament of occupational hazard of a law enforcement officer, such as

Lew Griffin who “is shot and wakes up in a hospital a full year later” (12 May 1999). ‘Police procedural’ sleuths are less likely to be portrayed as suffering from the aftermaths of injury related to work hazards than from some psychological condition or disability or organ failure or even addiction or miscarriage.

In the ‘police procedural’ there are 7 postings in which the sleuth’s race is specified.

This amounts to 8.1% of the 86 postings mentioning the ‘police procedural’ sleuth. There is one reference to a white sleuth, one to a Chinese sleuth and 5 references to a black sleuth. In fact, one of them expresses a desire for more specific content. “I hope Holton writes a book that goes into the racism issue more – from the perspective of a black police officer” (10

January 1999), the subscriber says. Inner City Blues by Paula L Woods caters to this request by satisfying the premise of a black cop and a black female cop at that. In another subscriber’s words: “When Black ER doctor Lance Mitchell is being beaten by her peers,

Detective Charlotte Justice intercedes and rescues the individual... a tremendous police 121 procedural that stars a refreshing new character. The story line is loaded with action and insight as the days following the LA riots of 1992 are explored from the unique perspective of a Black female cop” (21 January 1999). Most of the comments related to the issue of race are not simple references but form a kind of remark on some form of injustice. In The Sharp

End by Gabrielle Lord the protagonist is Harry Doyle “a police officer ...one of Australia’s

‘Stolen Children’, ... who, because they looked more white .. were forcibly removed from their mothers and raised in white, ‘Christian’ institutions’” (6 February 1999). Such references point to social injustices. Mentions of race in the postings, though not frequent, tend to take the form of elaborations on racism.

Sleuth in the ‘Private Investigator’

The ‘private investigator’ sleuth seems to feature prominently in the subscriptions of the posters to DorothyL. Of 130 postings making explicit reference to such a story, there are

103 which also make reference to the ‘private eye’ protagonist, that is 79.2%.

In False Conception, for instance, “San Francisco private detective John Marshall Tanner sallies forth to do battle with the ravening forces of evil and once more author Greenleaf proves his mastery of the genre” (11 January 1999). This is pretty much how the ‘private investigator’ subgenre has been defined by most subscribers and what most readers have in mind: mention of the subgenre boils down to a mention of the P.I. 122

It is interesting to note that there is an almost equal distribution of postings referring to a female and male private investigator. There are 41 postings that mention a male sleuth and 35 that mention a female sleuth. There are also 8 cases in which both a male and a female sleuth are mentioned which renders the male sleuth 49 postings and the female 43.

Statistically, the male sleuth appears in 47.6% of the postings referring to the sleuth in the

‘private investigator’ and female sleuths appear in 41.7% of these postings.

The degree of development of the private eye is also important as there are in the corpus 47 references to a developed sleuth of the 103 sleuth references in the ‘private investigator’ books, 45.6%. “I seem to recall, years and years ago, Parker being touted as

The Great White Hope of the Private Eye Novel ... At that point, his characters must have been just a bit more grounded in reality than they are now” (22 March 1999), remarks a subscriber, pointing to the necessity for developed sleuths, that is, sleuths who are part of their era and demonstrate the problematic of their times as any concerned individual would.

There are 22 references to a developed male sleuth. In relation to the 103 postings mentioning the sleuth in the ‘private investigator,’ this amounts to 21.4% but in relation to the 47 postings mentioning a developed sleuth in the ‘private investigator’ this amounts to

46.8% and in relation to the 49 postings mentioning a male sleuth in the ‘private investigator’ this amounts to 44.9%. Examples proffered by the subscribers include books like Dirty Pool by Steve Brewer in which private investigator Bubba Mabry “is more human than most investigators found in mystery tales. Bubba has at best average intelligence and makes the cowardly lion seem heroically intrepid ... This leaves readers with divergent feelings towards him. At times, one wants to help him as he muddles his way through a case.

At other times the audience will want to slap him silly and shut the book” (17 March 1999).

On the other hand, there are 20 postings that refer to a female developed sleuth,

19.4% of the 103 mentions of the sleuth in the ‘private investigator.’ However, the same 123 number seen in relation to the 47 postings that mention a developed sleuth in the ‘private investigator’ amounts to 42.6%. Finally, the 20 postings referring to a developed female sleuth seen in relation to the 43 postings that mention a female sleuth in the ‘private investigator’ amount to 46.5%. A developed heroine may be found in China Trade by S.J.

Rozan: “written from Lydia Chin’s voice .... The voice is sharp, clear and unmistakable. ...

The fact that Rozan is able to create two such distinctive and authentic voices [is] enthralling” (13 March 1999). There is no significant difference in the percentages allotted to developed sleuths in respect to whether they are male or female. Thus, one may formulate the following chart seeing the percentages in relation to the 103 postings that mention the sleuth in the ‘private investigator’:

Only 5 postings in the corpus make reference to the ‘private investigator’ sleuth’s age which amounts to 4.9% in relation to the sleuth category in the ‘private investigator.’ In particular, there is reference to one young, one middle-aged and three elderly private investigators while references to a sleuth’s health amount to only 4 of the 103 postings that mention the ‘private investigator’ sleuth, only 3.9%. There are also only 4 references to nationality in the corpus. These four references include a sleuth who is Italian, a sleuth who is Chinese and two Latino sleuths.

The sleuth’s marital status is yet another category which may help classify a sleuth as a person with a fully-developed life. There are seven instances (6.8%) of the 103 sleuth references in the ‘private investigator’ corpus. The internal distribution of this category 124 involves two widowed sleuths, two married ones, two single and one divorced. It is not important whether these sleuths are male or female but it must be noted that when marital status is mentioned the sleuth is usually single, though not always by choice. For instance,

“Bel Barrett is divorced with two grown children” but has “a globetrotting S.O.” (30 March

1999), and “Milan Jacovich. … deals with being a divorced father, as well as making efforts to get back into the dating scene” (13 January 1999).

The private investigator, is often seen as exercising two jobs, as 19 such references demonstrate. This amounts to 18. 4 % of the 103 postings mentioning a ‘private investigator’ sleuth. Of these 19 postings making reference to a sleuth doing a second job, 13 specify the job while the rest simply state the fact that the sleuth has a second job. In Every Crooked

Nanny, Julia Callahan Garrity is “a former Atlanta police detective turned private investigator, who buys a cleaning business and quickly finds herself fighting grime and solving crime in her spare time” (3 March 1999). Other part-time private eyes are a

“rancher” (16 March 1999) and a college professor (30 March 1999). There are also 4 instances mentioning that the sleuth had another job before becoming a private eye as well as

6 instances describing the exact reverse process: sleuths who are ex-policemen or private investigators.

Sleuth in the ‘Thriller’

The final constituent of the ‘hardboiled’ category is the ‘thriller.’ There are 98 postings refering to a ‘thriller’ whether that is simply named as such or is further classified as a medical or espionage ‘thriller.’ In the following analysis, the term ‘thriller’ has been kept for all these categories and the internal differentiation is stressed only where necessary.

There are in total 38 postings which mention something related to the ‘thriller’ hero or heroine: 24 references are to a ‘thriller’ hero in general, 12 references are to a ‘medical 125 thriller’ hero, and two to a ‘cold war/espionage’ hero. Statistically, the sleuth category is rather strong when it comes to the ‘thriller.’ The 38 references in relation to the overall

‘thriller’ category of 98 postings amounts to 38.8%.

There are 22 male protagonists and 15 female protagonists mentioned in the ‘thriller’ subgenre and there is one posting in which both a female and a male sleuth are mentioned in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Thus, there are 23 postings mentioning a male sleuth and 16 postings mentioning a female sleuth. In relation to the 38 references to a sleuth in the ‘thriller’ the male count is 60.5% while the female is 42.1%.

There are 20 references to a developed sleuth, as in Dead Ground in which “the characters and their emotions seem so genuine that readers will believe that Gerald Seymour is using real persona” (10 May 1999). This translates into 52.6% of the 38 postings that mention the ‘thriller’ sleuth. There are 12 postings making reference to a male developed

‘thriller’ sleuth and 7 to a female sleuth and there is one posting where both are mentioned thus rendering the final numbers: 13 male developed sleuths and 8 female developed sleuths.

Statistically, this appears as 34.2% of the 38 postings mentioning the sleuth mentioning a male developed sleuth and 21.1% of the 38 postings mentioning a female developed sleuth.

In relation to the developed sleuth category of 20 postings, male developed sleuths appear in

65% and female in 40% respectively. Finally, the 13 postings mentioning a male, developed sleuth amount to 56.5 of the 23 postings that mention a male sleuth in the ‘thriller’ and the 8 postings that mention a developed female sleuth in the ‘thriller’ amounts to 50% of the 15 126 postings that refer to a female sleuth presence in the ‘thriller.’ Finally, the developed sleuth gender distribution (20 postings in total, 7 mentioning female, 12 male and 1 both) is seen in the chart below:

Another indication of a developed protagonist is the mention of their profession. This reference makes them more believable personalities not solely concerned with a particular sleuthing task. There are in the corpus 19 postings referring to the protagonist’s job in the

‘thriller’ and 8 in the medical/legal ‘thriller.’ In total, then, there are 27 references to professions. Seen in relation to the ‘thriller’ sleuth category of 38 postings, the resultant percentage for each category are as follows: mention of sleuth’s profession 71.1%.

A prominent category in the corpus involves lawyers or attorneys. There are, in fact,

6 references to these professions, four of which do not involve a qualified lawyer but a law student who due to circumstances is forced to act as a lawyer. Hart’s War by John

Katzenbach presents such a case, Tommy, a former law student (14 April 1999). Another category involves law enforcement officers such as “Deputy chief Lucas Davenport [who] has faced many dangerous adversaries during his time as a law enforcement official” (15 127

April 1999) in Certain Prey by John Sandford. A third category which may be formed is that of professions related to the arts: a player (22 April 1999),or a poet (1 May 1999).

Comparison of the Sleuth in the ‘Cosy’ & ‘Hardboiled’ Categories

The next step in the analysis is to turn to the make-up of the overall ‘cosy’ and

‘hardboiled’ categories. In the total corpus of 650 postings, 345 refer either to the ‘cosy’ or the ‘historical cosy’ or, in some instances, to both. It is worthwhile, therefore, to look at this category of 345 postings with a view to comparing the various percentages related to the sleuth.

The sleuth is mentioned in 104 postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and in 78 postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is an overlap of 2 cases that mention the sleuth in relation to both the ‘cosy’ and the ‘historical cosy.’ There are then 180 postings that refer to the sleuth of the 345 of the overall ‘cosy’ category. This amounts to 52.2 %.

The ‘hardboiled’ category amounts to 391 postings and includes references to either

‘hardboiled’ or ‘private investigator’ or ‘police procedural’ or ‘thriller’ stories. There are instances where reference may be made to more than one of the above subgenres.

This is obvious in the case of the sleuth, who appears as follows: 21 references in the

‘hardboiled,’ 86 references in the ‘police procedural,’ 103 references in the ‘private investigator’ and 38 references in the ‘thriller.’ The sum of these references is 248.

However, there is some degree of overlap, 32 postings, which, when subtracted, leaves the category of the sleuth with 216 references in individual postings. Of the 391 postings of the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, 55.2 % of the references mention the sleuth, close to the 52.2% for the ‘cosy’ category.

The fact that the sleuth is an amateur is mentioned in 71 cases in relation to the ‘cosy’ and in 38 cases in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no apparent overlap in this case, 128 so the amateur sleuth is mentioned in 109 postings related to either the ‘cosy’ or the

‘historical cosy.’ This translates in 60.6% of the 180 postings where a sleuth is mentioned in connection with the ‘cosy’ or ‘historical cosy.’

The profession of the sleuth is mentioned in 35 postings related to the ‘cosy.’ There is only one case where the sleuth is a professional detective and the remaining 34 cases involve amateur sleuths holding another profession unrelated sleuthing. The ‘historical cosy’ presents a slightly different picture. There are 38 postings mentioning a sleuth who is not a professional and 12 in which the sleuth is presented as a detective of some sort. There are, thus, a total of 72 postings that mention the profession of the amateur sleuth, and this amounts to 40% of the 180 postings where a sleuth is mentioned. The corresponding percentage for the professional sleuth is 13 mentions that result in 7.2 % of the 180 postings where a sleuth is mentioned in the ‘cosy’ category.

In the ‘police procedural’ and ‘private investigator’ subgenres, the profession of the sleuth is implied in the definition of the subgenre; there are 86 references in the ‘police procedural,’ and 103 references in the ‘private investigator’ that mention the sleuth. There is a degree of overlap in 26 cases so the final number representing mentions of sleuth for the

‘police procedural’ and the ‘private investigator’ is 163. If this is taken into account, 75.5% of the 216 postings mentioning sleuths in the whole ‘hardboiled’ category explicitly define the sleuth as professional. The category of the amateur sleuth appears in only 11 postings only in postings related to the ‘hardboiled’ and the ‘thriller.’ This amounts to 5.1 % of the

216 postings mentioning the sleuth in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category. However, there are

53 references to the profession of the sleuth in cases where the sleuth does a second job, for instance. There are 7 references that come from postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled,’ 19 references from the ‘private investigator’ stories and 27 from the ‘thriller.’ After subtracting the number of 4 overlapping cases, what is left is 49 postings referring to the profession of a 129 sleuth other than that professional law enforcement. This amounts to 22.7% of the 216 postings where a sleuth is mentioned.

In relation to the sleuth’s gender, in the overall ‘cosy’ category one may see the following. There are 65 female sleuths mentioned in the ‘cosy’ and 30 in the ‘historical cosy.’ These references taken together amount to 95 references to a female ‘cosy’ sleuth.

The corresponding number for the male sleuth is as follows: 31 postings make reference to a male ‘cosy’ sleuth and 52 to a male ‘historical cosy’ sleuth. Taken together they amount to

83 postings making reference to a male sleuth. When considered in relation to the180 postings mentioning the sleuth the following statistic emerges: 52.8% of the postings mention a female ‘cosy’ sleuth, and 46.1% a male sleuth.

In the ‘hardboiled’ category, there are 97 mentions (7 ‘hardboiled,’ 25 ‘police procedural,’ 49 ‘private investigator,’ 16 ‘thriller’) of a female sleuth. However, taking into consideration the amount of overlap what is left is 91 postings that refer to a female sleuth in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category. This amounts to 42.1% of the 216 postings that mention a sleuth. The male sleuth is mentioned 136 times in the postings. There are 10 references in the postings talking about ‘hardboiled’ books, 60 references in the postings talking about ‘police procedurals,’ 43 references in the postings referring to ‘private investigator’ stories and 23 to

‘thriller.’ Again excluding the degree of overlap what is left is 122 postings which mention the male sleuth in the ‘hardboiled’ category. This amounts to 56.5% of the postings that mention the sleuth. Thus, it appears that readers are slightly more likely to mention a female sleuth when discussing ‘cosy’ books, and clearly more likely to mention a male sleuth when discussing the ‘hardboiled.’

The concern with a developed character for the sleuth is evident in both subgenres of the ‘cosy’ category. In the ‘cosy,’ there are 41 such references and in the ‘historical cosy’ 48, that is, 89 postings in total. When considered in relation to the 180 postings mentioning the 130 sleuth this amounts to 49.4%. There are 38 references (5 in the ‘cosy’ and 33 in the

‘historical cosy’) which suggest that the male sleuth is a developed person. This amounts to

11% of the total of 345 postings of the overall ‘cosy’ category and 45.8% of the 83 mentions of a male sleuth. The correspondent numbers for the female sleuth are as follows: 25 developed female sleuths in the ‘cosy’ and 19 in the ‘historical cosy,’ a total of 44 postings of the 95 postings mentioning a female sleuth. This amounts to 46.3% of the 95 mentions of a female sleuth.

In the ‘hardboiled’ category, the developed character of the sleuth appears in 12 references in the ‘hardboiled,’ 63 in the ‘police procedural,’ 47 in the ‘private investigator,’ and 20 in the ‘thriller.’ The total sum of these numbers is 142 but when the degree of overlap is subtracted, the final number is 134. This amounts to 62% of the

216 postings that mention the sleuth.

There are 3 references to developed male sleuths in the ‘hardboiled,’ 41 in the ‘police procedural,’ 22 in the ‘private investigator’ and 13 in the ‘thriller.’ Added, they amount to 79 references. There is again a degree of overlap which when subtracted leaves 74 postings referring to a developed male sleuth. It appears then that 60.7% of the 122 mentioning a male sleuth refer to a developed male sleuth. The corresponding number for the female developed sleuth is 48 references, 52.7% of the 91 postings mentioning a female sleuth. The detailed numbers involve 3 ‘hardboiled’ references, 20 ‘police procedural’ references, 20

‘private investigator’ references and 8 ‘thriller’ references. The degree of overlap is 3 references. Thus, the interest of readers in developed and realistic characters appears to be strong for both the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled’ categories and is indeed even more important in the case of the ‘hardboiled.’

There are finally 2 characteristics which are only mentioned in the simple ‘cosy’: sleuth age and marital status. The first is mentioned in 10 postings which results in 5.6 % of 131 the postings mentioning the sleuth, and the second in 15 postings which amounts to 8.3% of the postings mentioning the sleuth. The last parameter to be examined is the mention of a sleuth’s health problems which occurs only in 7 postings referring to the ‘historical cosy’ and amounts to 3.9% of the postings mentioning the sleuth.

Such characteristics are mentioned in the ‘hardboiled’ category with more or less the same frequency. The marital status of the sleuth is mentioned in 11 references in the postings referring to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, 3 of them coming from the ‘hardboiled’ and 7 from the ‘private investigator’ postings. This amounts to 5.1% of the postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth.

The health of the sleuth is also mentioned in 12 postings, 8 of them coming from the

‘police procedural’ and 4 of them from the ‘private investigator.’ There is no degree of overlap here so the resultant percentage is 5.6% of the 216 postings mentioning the

‘hardboiled’ sleuth.

Similarly, the race of the sleuth is mentioned in 11 postings, 7 of them ‘police procedural’ instances and 4 ‘private investigator’ ones. Since there is no degree of overlap the final number is 5.1% of the postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth.

The age of the sleuth is mentioned in 5 postings, all of them coming from postings elaborating on ‘private investigator’ stories, 2.3% of the 216 postings mentioning the

‘hardboiled’ sleuth. The same applies with references to ex-professions. This is the case with

6 instances again coming from the ‘private investigator’ stories all of them referring to the ex-profession of a ‘private investigator’ as being a cop. This amounts to 2.8% of the 216 postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ sleuth.

Thus, it surfaces that for the subscribers to DorothyL, and apart from the profession of the hero/heroine, the significant differences between the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled’ categories do not lie in the character of the sleuth. In both the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled,’ 132 male and female sleuths figure almost with equal frequency, and readers demand a degree of character development and believability for the hero or heroine in both types of books.

Social Context

The main parameters involved in the code of the social context are the secondary characters, issues pertaining to whether these characters are developed personalities, the social commentary involved as well as the assessment of the recreation of the social milieu.

The importance of secondary characters is evident in the words of various subscribers. “A few months ago, I ... couldn’t read a book by a favorite author, because I didn’t want to have to deal with the secondary characters … Is anyone else having this problem? Do you dislike some secondary characters so much that you don’t read the book -- so you don’t have to deal with them?” (11 October 1999). This draws the response of another subscriber who adds:

Are you kidding? I’ve dropped more than one entire series because I was fed up with annoying secondary characters. I find secondary characters really important - it gives substance to the story, tells you about the protagonist, or whomever these folks associate with - and I have stopped reading __so__ many books because of whining, nagging, annoying, or rude characters. (12 Oct 1999)

What seems to be equally important for the posters is that the secondary characters are developed personalities. Speaking of Death on a Silver Platter, another subscriber says that

“what makes this series so successful is Ellen Hart’s talent for creating secondary characters that are as fully developed and fascinating as her main ones” (19 Oct 2003). As another subscriber comments,

a series is harder because you have to keep the characters growing or they

become boring. With my Fey Croaker series, I developed a large cast of

secondary characters to help keep the series going. This is both a blessing and

a curse. Firstly, juggling a large cast can be tricky. Furthermore, you always

have to come up with some way to involve the secondary characters in the 133

plot which can be even trickier. On the plus side, I'm able to do things with the

secondary characters (such as giving them impossible, but interesting choices)

with which I don't want to complicate my heroine. In the past I have had

trouble writing series as I tended to put my main characters through so much

emotionally and physically in a book that they were a different person at the

end. (14 August 1999)

Moreover, posters stress the importance of social commentary. A subscriber says:

“So it’s nothing really new, this idea of merging political or social commentary with mystery fiction. What is new is the over-earnestness of much of it, and how blatant it is” (17 April

1999), while another testifies to its importance in the evaluation of books: “STRONG

POISON. Funny characters. Social commentary. The stuff I love” (9 December 2006).

Finally, the reference to the social milieu is also a strong consideration for the posters as evident in the following:

We have on DL often talked about using brand names to “identity” characters,

to place them in the social milieu. It happens here, once again a matter of

course. Everyone reading in the ‘40s and ‘50s would have recognized

newspaper names, restaurants, neighborhoods, brands, and known how they

reflected on the characters, but we (or at least I) don’t any more. I wonder if

the same will happen with books of today that are read 50 years from now? (1

October 2008)

Social Context in the ‘Cosy’

Of 208 postings referring to the ‘cosy’ 80 make reference to a secondary character.

Statistically, this amounts to 38.5% of the 208 postings making reference to a ‘cosy.’ 134

As one subscriber puts it, she reads “for the characters development – the hat happens next – in the story and for the mystery. …to find out if they will marry that cop, ever solve their family problems etc.” (31 January 1999). What surfaces is the demand for social context, that is, secondary characters who provide the sleuth with a normal life and who assist in the delineation of the sleuth as a common everybody.

The demand for developed secondary characters is strong and amounts to 56 references. In relation to the 80 postings that refer to a secondary character in the ‘cosy,’ this amounts to 70%.

Such references may be short, like to Rhys Bowen’s Evans Above which a subscriber describes as a “cosy with terrific characters” (11 January 1999) while others are more detailed as to Leading an Elegant Death where “the leading characters are fun” according to a subscriber who also describes the “executive assistant” as a “great organizer, but who knows nothing about food, decorating or entertaining” (17 January 1999). In this posting, the reference to the developed character comes through the negation of attributes that an 135 everyday person may possess but, in doing so, the subscriber touches upon the issue of the demand for developed secondary characters, nonetheless.

The category of the secondary character is internally differentiated. There are references to friends, partners (primarily boyfriends and girlfriends) assistants, pets, family, the police and finally the murderer.

Family ties are mentioned in 29 postings, that is, 36.3% of the 80 postings that make reference to a secondary character in the ‘cosy.’ The element of family may not be directly related to the sleuth’s family. Such is the case in the description of The Shortest Day by Jane

Langton by a subscriber who, talking about the plot, refers to the “crazy jealous husband who is murdering every man his wife talks to” (1 February 1999). Family ties are also mentioned directly in relation to the sleuth. A subscriber, commenting on Edie Claire’s new series featuring Leigh Koslow, says that this amateur sleuth “is staying with her pregnant cousin

Cara” and has “a police officer for a best friend and a somewhat kooky cousin. The mothers of these three women are all different and add to the texture of the story” (18 March 1999).

Another constituent of the secondary character category is that of friends. This category appears in 14 of the 80 postings that mention secondary characters in the ‘cosy,’

17.5%. In Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham, a subscriber tells us, “the police notice discrepancies between the stories told by Agatha and Charles (a friend), making the duo prime suspects in the poisoning of John” who is “Agatha’s former fiancé” (5 April 1999). In examples like this, the assistant in the process is Charles, a friend who becomes enmeshed in the mystery.

Another important trend in the conception of the ‘cosy’ is the existence of a professional cop as a friend. In Crewel World by Monica Ferris, Betsy and her “new friend

Jill, a police officer, [who] is a ... [secondary] character” try to solve a murder (5 April 1999) while in Malice in Miniature, another poster informs us, “Dorothy Martin is now married to 136 her policeman Alan” but also “helps Alan’s underlings with solving the crimes” when her husband is away (30 March 1999). There are 10 such cases in the 80 postings mentioning secondary characters in a ‘cosy,’ 12.5%. Most of them involve an amateur female sleuth in relation to a professional friend.

The sleuth is connected to the traditional authorities in the form of amorous interpersonal relationships. In Violence Beat “Nell Mathews is a crime reporter” who “has a firm rule about not dating policemen ...however the attraction is very strong” when it comes to Mike Svenson “who was a detective in Chicago, but has come back to his home town” (31

January 1999). The issue of connections surfaces even when as we are told “Mike has to start at the bottom and wants no favors from his father’s old cronies” (31 January 1999), which to a certain extent prevents Nell from gaining help from the traditional authorities through Mike.

This example is a perfect illustration of the fact that, although ‘cosy’ sleuths are more likely to acquire information via interpersonal relationships with police officers, even when such is the case, this informal cooperation is portrayed as problematic. In most cases, the sleuth resorts to other means to solve a case. In both Foul Play and Mother of the Bride, a subscriber mentions, “Moly uses her connections with the people she meets through the food delivery program to help her find a killer” (16 January 1999). This category of the boyfriend or girlfriend is mentioned in 15 (18.8%) of the postings mentioning secondary characters in the ‘cosy.’

Assistants are also mentioned in the ‘cosy’ in 10 postings, which amounts to 12.5% of the 80 postings mentioning secondary characters in the ‘cosy.’ One is found in the book

Vendetta’s Victim by Alex Matthews featuring “social worker” and “therapist” Cassidy

McCabe and “Zack, her live-in boyfriend, [who] is a reporter and this creates some serious ethical problems from time to time” (9 January 1999). The trend of relating the female 137 amateur sleuth to a professional sleuth or to somebody who due to their profession may possess certain sleuthing characteristics becomes again evident.

The police is also mentioned in 11 postings related to the ‘cosy’ which amounts to

13.8% of the 80 postings mentioning secondary characters in the ‘cosy.’ In Murder With

Peacocks by , “a perfectly delightful and positively cozy mystery ...No one, except Meg’s Dad, is really interested in investigating and the proper authority, the sheriff, probably does not quite know how” (11 April 1999).

Posters to DorothyL also mention the murderer in 19 postings discussing the ‘cosy,’ which amounts to 23.8% of the 80 postings mentioning secondary characters in relation to the

‘cosy.’ A subscriber says: “I think ‘cozy’ murder mysteries do trivialise murder. Ever notice how both the victim and the murderer are so often people nobody would really miss?

However, since ‘cozies’ rarely celebrate or render violence realistically, I suspect their impact on homicidal loonies is nil” (26 April 1999).

The last aspect involved in the delineation of the ‘cosy’ is commentary on social issues. This is, apparently, not felt to be very important in the ‘cosy.’ Of 208 postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ there are 10 that make explicit reference to some aspect of social commentary, that is, 4.8%. In A Dangerous Thing, “we have a fine academic mystery that blends political correctness … with private agendas” (12 January 1999). Another category involves law enforcement efficacy: Framework for Death “address[es] a very serious concern. What happens when the law cannot protect people from others? Is it all right, then, for someone to take the law in his own hands and provide that protection?” (9 January 1999), another subscriber asks. One comment on Dead Cat Bounce by Sarah Graves deals with the portrayal of women: “I saw that the heroine, Jacobia, was called Jake ... not so obviously feminine. .... Is there a particular image ..[authors] have in mind? And how does it affect the reader - is there an implication of a more athletic, less cozy kind of character? (3 February 138

1999). Suburban life is also discussed in books like The Family Stalker by Jon Katz who

“writes what on the surface is a suburban cozy, but he always manages to raise a number of interesting questions about the nature of suburban life and the people who live there” (3

March 1999). Social commentary make also take the form of disclosing an abusive relationship as in Trudy Labovitz’s Ordinary Justice in which the whole “story line skilfully and intelligently deals with spousal abuse” (16 May 1999). Theological or ethical issues may also come forth as happens with a subscriber talking about books by Kathleen Taylor: “Be warned though that a few readers on DL have been bothered by her protagonist’s affair with a married man” (8 April 1999).

Social Context in the ‘Historical Cosy’

Of 150 postings referring to the ‘historical cosy,’ 75 make reference to a secondary character, which amounts to 50%.

There are 41 that mention “well drawn characters” (14 May 1999), that is “Characters

[who] are presented as they would have been, doing the best they could, flaws and all” (5

April 1999). In relation to the 75 postings that mention a secondary character in the

‘historical cosy,’ this amounts to 54.7%. 139

A striking difference to the simple ‘cosy’ is that, in the ‘historical cosy,’ one does not encounter many cases where the sleuth is in some sort of interpersonal relationship with a professional, not to mention the fact that there are only 3 postings that mention police forces in general. In fact, one comes across only two instances of such a union. One of them involves Steel Ashes by Karen Rose Cercone which is “about Helen Sorby and Armenian police detective Milo Katchurian” which leads the subscriber to stress that “There seems to be quite a crop of historical mysteries featuring independent young women lately … and this is a strong example of one” (17 May 1999). The category of the boyfriend or friend in the

‘historical cosy’ appears to be 11 references, 14.7% of the postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘historical cosy.’

Secondary characters may come in the form of an assistant or collaborator as is the case of Cure for a Charlatan by Caroline Roe in which the “blind Jewish physician Isaac … accompanied by his apprentice Yusef and his daughter - assistant Raquel, races against time to prove that a devious and deadly con artist is behind the apparent devilish disease” (13

January 1999) that killed “three healthy but discontented youths” (13 January 1999). This characteristic is mentioned in 11 postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy,’ 14.7% of the postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘historical cosy.’

The social milieu may be present in the comments of subscribers on the relatives of the sleuth. “In 1690 Edo, Japan, Sano Inchiro, the Most Honourable Investigator, looks forward to marrying his beloved Lady Ueda Reiko” (12 January 1999). Family ties may be 140 mentioned even when they do not relate to the sleuth but to other characters in the story.

“While investigating the disappearance of a ship, Bartholemew meets Eleanor Graves, who beats off two assailants before the ex sailor can fully intervene. … [and] continues to investigate even as Eleanor has brought him into her and her husband’s circle of friends” (12

January 1999). Statistically, there are in total 17 postings that mention family members in relation to the ‘historical cosy,’ that is, 22.7%, of the 75 postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘historical cosy.’

In a great number of the postings referring to a ‘historical cosy’ the victims are mentioned as well. In The Murder of Helen Jewett there is “the murder of a prostitute” (19

January 1999). Another instance of mentioning the victim is the description of a subscriber of the book In the Time of the Poisoned Queen by Ann Dukthas, which “is an intriguing study of the question of whether Queen Mary Tudor of England was really poisoned and, if so, by whom” (2 February 1999). The victims are mentioned in 23 postings which amounts to 30.7% of the 75 references that mention a secondary character in a ‘historical cosy.’

Another category that features in the ‘historical cosy’ is that of the murderer. In

Concubine’s Tattoo by Laura Joh Rowland “Sano’s nuptial bliss is abruptly interrupted when

Harume, a favorite concubine of Shogun Tsunayoshi, is murdered by an assailant who placed poison in the lady's tattoo ink” (12 January 1999). There are 13 postings mentioning this characteristic, which amounts to 17.3% of the 75 references that mention a secondary character in a ‘historical cosy.’

Finally, there are references to the broader social milieu which elaborate on the degree that posters assess the recreation of the respective era. Talking about Invitation to a Funeral by Molly Brown a subscriber mentions that the author “transports the reader to ...

Restoration England. ... Charles II has been reinstated on the British throne, the Roundheads are in disarray, spies and counterspies abound, and one of the entities restored by Charles is 141 the theatre” (24 January 1999). The same subscriber says that the “The book has a large cast of characters, both historical and fictional, and Ms. Brown does an admirable job of delineating them ...[as] wonderful characters, interesting, amusing, simply delightful... The historical characters seem true to their actual persona and the fictional ones are completely believable” (24 January 1999). Occasionally the reference to the social context of the story is more succinct as the words of another subscriber reveal when talking about Hyaenas by

Sandy Dengler who “has done a good job of imagining/ creating two different varieties of social structure for these two prehistoric societies” the Neanderthals and the Cro-Magnons (5

February 1999). Statistically, references to the social context is the biggest category, as it amounts to 32 references, 21.3% of the 150 postings referring to a ‘historical cosy.’

Another aspect of the social context of the ‘historical cosy’ is the existence of social commentary. There are 19 such instances in the 150 postings referring to a ‘historical cosy,’ that is 12.7%. “The second half” of The Murder of Helen Jewett, a subscriber complains,

“degenerates into academic theory about the socio-political effects of abortion, which I found tedious” (20 January 1999). Another subscriber mentions Remedy for Treason by Carolyn V.

Roe, which refers to “murder, treachery and politics. Both the machinations of the Spanish court and the quiet comfort of everyday life in the Jewish quarter of Girona are rendered with care and accuracy” (29 January 1999). A similar case is Death at Rottingdean “Set in late

Victorian England, [which portrays] a country still struggling with the impact of the industrial revolution” (2 February 1999). According to another subscriber, “The third Inspector

Rutledge novel, SEARCH THE DARK, [gives] an insight into the aftermath of war” (20

April 1999), while with “The debut appearance of amateur sleuth Hilda Johansson” Jeanne

M. Dam “provides readers with insight as to what it felt like being a foreigner in 1900

America” (6 May 1999). “One of the obvious issues I notice is the difference in the way police treat the rich and the poor, the respectable and the disreputable” (17 May 1999), 142 comments another subscriber when talking about Under the Dragon’s Tail. Segregation is evident in Graveyard Dust which portrays New Orleans as “a city deeply divided along racial lines” which would preclude the possibility of a fair trial for Celie who is being accused of murder (26 May 1999). Finally, “With ... cultural anecdotes touching on religious, political, and class differences” Death in Lacquer Red is another instance of a book with social commentary intertwined in its pages.

Social Context in the ‘Hardboiled’

Of 101 postings referring to the ‘hardboiled,’ 26 make reference to a secondary character, that is, 25.7%. The correspondent percentage for the ‘cosy’ was 38.5%, and for the

‘historical cosy’ 50%.

Speaking of Daughter of Darkness by Ed Gorman a subscriber mentions that it is

“Hardboiled tale of a former cop, now a taxi driver, and an amnesia victim who may or may not be a murderer” (26 January 1999), thus, introducing the secondary character in the person of a potential criminal.

The demand for developed secondary characters is relatively strong here as well. A poster, speaking of Blackheart Highway by Richard Barre, says that “This book is as close to perfect as they come. The characters are wonderful with flaws that make them believable” (1

April 1999). There are 15 references that touch upon this element. Thus, of 26 postings that refer to a secondary character in a ‘hardboiled,’ 57.7 % also refer to a developed secondary 143 character. In the postings mentioning a ‘cosy’ the correspondent percentage is 70% while the respective percentage for the ‘historical cosy’ is 54.7%.

One of the constituents of the social context of the ‘hardboiled’ category is that of the broader social milieu. Barre in Blackheart Highway, a subscriber tells us, “blends the past with the present and comes up with a fascinating story of an old murder everyone in

Bakersfield, California wants to forget and Will Hardesty wants to investigate” (1April

1999). The whole of California is, in this example, the broader social milieu. There are 10 references mentioning this characteristic which amounts to 9.9% of the 101 postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled.’

Fewer comments associate the ‘hardboiled’ with the kinds of secondary characters that were found in comments about the ‘cosy.’ The category of secondary characters who are friends or boyfriends of the sleuth amounts to only a couple of instances. Speaking of

‘hardboiled’ books in general, another subscriber explains: “I'm not saying SO’s, or other recurring characters are bad, but some series seem to rely on them, instead of the mystery or the detective. Even hardboiled series have recurring characters, and sometimes they don't even suck” (31 May 1999).

The same sparsity relates to the appearance of the family institution in the

‘hardboiled.’ Blood Mud, a subscriber mentions, “is by no stretch of the imagination a cozy read” but “you want to see a human being grow and change and struggle with love of family and town and wife” (10 May 1999). The element of family is introduced in this posting but 144 there are only two such instances in the corpus. The second involves Roz who “is fighting important filmmakers, gangsters, and even her own family” (12 April 1999).

What surfaces, therefore, from the above is that readers commenting on the

‘hardboiled’ are less concerned with the interpersonal relationships, perhaps considering them less characteristic of the genre. There are only two instances related to family, one to a murderer, three references to the category of friend, 3 references to the category of boyfriend,

6 references to the category of an assistant, and finally 10 references to characters in general, a total of 25 mentions of the personal social context of the sleuth in 101 postings (25%).

Apparently, the ‘hardboiled’ world precludes any possibility for intimacy and demands a rather sketchy portrayal of the social milieu. This, of course, is in sharp contrast to the treatment of the social milieu in the ‘cosy’ and in the ‘historical cosy.’

Subscribers also refer to the kinds of social commentary found in the ‘hardboiled.’

One subscriber generalises on the issue: “Some hardboiled mysteries are so self-consciously grim they end up being as phony-baloney and laughable as those pristine little closed societies in some traditional mysteries. But most of my favorite crime fiction somehow manages to show the possibilities of more than one social group” (29 May 1999). Again, a generalised comment on the brutality of detective fiction allows a subscriber to comment:

“Real life can be and is mirrored in fiction. But it is not real life! It is fiction. And in the crime fiction genre child abuse is explored, racism, brutality, and it is done well by many many authors. But as in all Art it transcends reality. If you want real-read true crime” (29

May 1999). Speaking of The Woman Who Knew Too Much by B. Reece Johnson, a subscriber says that it “is set in New Mexico, has some environmental issues, and mentions some chemistry” (4 January 1999). On the whole, it seems the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre readers are not interested in social commentary when reading their favourite fiction. There are only three such references (3% of the 101 postings referring to the ‘hardboiled’). This is not far 145 from the percentage that mentions social commentary in the ‘cosy’ (4.8% of the 208 postings mentioning the ‘cosy’), but is much less than the percentage that mentions social commentary in the ‘historical cosy’ (12.7% of the 150 postings mentioning this subgenre).

Social Context in the ‘Police Procedural’

Of 106 postings referring to the ‘police procedural,’ 69 make reference to a secondary character. The resultant percentage is 65.1%, which is high.

The demand for developed secondary characters is strong, as there are 51 references,

48.1% of the 101 postings mentioning a ‘police procedural’ and 73.9% of the 69 postings mentioning secondary characters in a ‘police procedural.’

In Par Four by Elizabeth Gunn, “The author does a wonderful job with … the secondary characters [who] become real people to readers” (21 December 1999). Secondary characters may even be considered as the backbone of the plot: Stealing Time “is totally character driven, and those characters are unique and riveting” (19 March 1999), a subscriber comments. On the other hand, cases such as God is a Bullet by Boston Teran are criticised 146 because “The characters … never fully develop, leaving readers with no one to care for as the various sides become difficult to delineate from one another” (19 March 1999).

Family is another of the categories that feature prominently in the postings of the subscribers. There are 28 postings that refer to family relationships in the 69 postings making reference to a secondary character in a ‘police procedural,’ 40.6%. Family may be mentioned in relation to the sleuth’s dissatisfaction regarding their personal life, as is the case with “The protagonist of THE SHARP END [who] is a police officer …, a disillusioned husband and father and a singularly unhappy man” (6 February 1999).

One of the categories that appear most prominently in the ‘police procedural’ is that of the victim. There are 45 that make reference to the victim or victims in the story. This is

65.2% of the 69 postings that refer to a secondary character in a ‘police procedural.’ The victim is often well delineated. Speaking of Angels Flight a subscriber comments that “even though our introduction to Howard Elias is as a dead body, we get a good sense of the kind of man he was as well” (15 March 1999).

The category of the criminal is also quite prominent in the postings of the subscribers.

There are 21 references to the criminal, 30.4% of the 69 postings that mention secondary characters. Criminals are sometimes described as familiar. The culprit may also be portrayed as someone known to come from a criminal background, as in Broken Lines by Jo Bannister in which an “armed robber turns out to be Mikey Dickens, the youngest son of the local crime family” (17 March 1999).

Another category that receives a lot of attention in the comments of the subscribers is that of the police forces acting as helping or distracting the work of the particular detective or detectives working on a case. There are 23 such references in the postings, 33.3% of the 69 postings that mention a secondary character in a ‘police procedural.’ The portrayal of the police forces besides the detective protagonist is often seen as disruptive: In Breach of Duty, 147

“The acting police chief interferes and removes” the detectives “from the second investigation” they were involved in (18 January 1999). Finally, a poster claims that in Inner

City Blues “LAPD feels they have the killer in the person of Dr. Mitchell. However, ... [i]n spite of the brass’ warnings, Charlotte continues to investigate what happened to Cinque” (21

January 1999).

The category of the assistant features prominently in the ‘police procedural’ because there are 56 postings that mention it, that is, 81.2 % of the 69 postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘police procedural.’ In Ransom For Killing by Fred Hunter “police officer Jeremy Ransom refuses to rush to judgment, thinking that the original rapist might be the killer. With the help of his partner, septuagenarian Emily Charters, he begins to search for the unknown assailant, who he thinks is the killer” (24 January 1999).

The category of friend or boyfriend or girlfriend appears in 12 postings, 17.4 % of the postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘police procedural.’ Significant others are often mentioned by the subscribers in relation to men. In The Woman in the Yard by Stephen

E. Miller, the sleuth has “a Jewish girl friend with integration leanings” (10 April 1999).

Sometimes, the love interest grows between two detectives that work on a case as in King of

Infinite Space by David Wolf in which “Sheriff Alan Schneider and Captain Toni Ashcroft of Air Force security investigate the murder” but “As they make their inquiries, a strong attraction develops between them” (29 March 1999).

One may also look at a broader social category that includes all the characters mentioned who do not belong to any of the above-mentioned categories. This category is mentioned in 35 postings, 33.2% of the 106 postings mentioning the ‘police procedural.’ The recreation of the broader social milieu may be seen in The Bone Collector by Jeffery Deaver, which “is a big book, thickly peopled with the principled and the venal, with dozens of minor characters who inform and drive and frustrate the investigation and the story. It is a large part 148 of Deaver’s talent that these characters, large and small, as they march across the pages, interest us, amuse us, inform us” (28 February 1999), allowing the constitution of a broader social milieu to materialise.

Finally, only 4 postings draw attention to social commentary in the ‘police procedural’ (3.8% of the 106 postings mentioning a police ‘procedural,’ low when compared to other subgenres). A book that “tells a very good story but also addresses some very important issues in our culture” (11 March 1999) is Tell no Tales by Eleanor Taylor Bland in which “One of the issues explored ... is how society treats those who are in need of psychiatric help but refuse to accept it” (11 March 1999)

Social Context in the ‘Private Investigator’

Of 130 postings referring to the ‘private Investigator,’ 60 make reference to a

secondary character. The resultant percentage is 46.2%.

A subscriber, pointing to the importance of secondary characters in relation to Linda

Thrasher’s books, explains that “Zach remains the star, though his supporting cast such as his sister and Phil (the police chief) augment the novel” (18 March 1999).

The demand for developed secondary characters is relatively strong as there are 37 references that touch upon this element 61.7% of the 60 postings that make reference to a secondary character in a ‘private investigator’ book. 149

As a subscriber explains, “There were elements to the characters I could relate to … like one character’s fear of driving” (10 May 1999), which makes a book successful.

Secondary characters must be “developed” like the characters presented in The Missing Eden by Wendi Lee in which one gets “to know Angie, members of her family, and the other main characters quite well” thus proving that “Ms. Lee’s strengths are clearly style and character development” (31 March 1999), in contrast to The Good Daughter by the same author in which it was felt that the secondary characters “were pretty stereotypical” (31 March 1999).

As in previous cases, the secondary characters may appear in the person of relatives.

This element appears in 33 postings. This is 55% in relation to the category of secondary characters in the ‘private investigator’ which counts 60 postings. Family may be mentioned in relation to the sleuth. For instance, in a “PI series” by Les Roberts in which Milan Jacovich has to tackle “being a divorced father” (13 January 1999). Family may appear related to other characters in the books. To illustrate, in The Cracked Earth by John Shannon where

“Former Hollywood star Lori Bright hires private investigator Jack Liffey to locate her missing fifteen-year-old daughter Lee Borowsky” (13 January 1999). In some postings, the element of family is mentioned in relation to the sleuth. In Deadbeat by Wendi Lee where

Angie Matelli’s “middle class Italian family adds a flavor of Boston” (4 March 1999).

Finally, family may appear related to the object of investigation. The Last Song Dogs by

Sinclair Browning presents Trade Ellis’s “cases [which] typically consist of insurance scams and cheating spouses” (24 March 1999). 150

There are 15 cases, 25% of the postings involving secondary characters where the category of friend or boyfriend or girlfriend is mentioned and that is including references to both the private investigator’s significant other or friends and to those of other characters.

To be more specific, there are 7 references to friends 11.7% of the 60 postings mentioning a secondary character) and 8 references to boyfriends or girlfriends in these postings 13.3% of the postings mentioning a secondary character in a ‘private investigator’ book). A subscriber mentions that in Murder Can Singe Your Old Flame by Selma Eicher “Desiree is hired by an ex-boyfriend to clear him of suspicions” (31 March 1999).

Subscribers refer to the police in the postings in which they refer to ‘private investigator’ books. The police are mentioned in 10 cases, which is 16.7% of the 60 postings referring to a secondary character in a ‘private investigator’ book. In The Cracked Earth by

John Shannon, “two law enforcement officials follow Jack, who ... confront[s] them” (13

January 1999). However, Murder Can Singe Your Old Flame by Selma Eicher, in which the sleuth “pumps her policeman friend for information” (31 March 1999) presents according to the subscribers more positive delineations of police forces.

The private investigator may appear as having an assistant, as is evident in 12 of the postings talking about a ‘private investigator’ book. This amounts to 20% of the 60 postings mentioning secondary characters. In some cases, the assistant may even come in the person of another private investigator as is the case in Dirty Pool by Steve Brewer where

“Albuquerque private investigator Bubba Mabry desperately wants to tell his nemesis private detective William J. Pool to go to hell when his unscrupulous rival asks for help. However,

Bubba needs the cash, sees a chance to obtain a needed boost to his own agency, and also has an opportunity to finally trump William” so he “agrees to join in on the investigation” (17

March 1999). 151

Another category that appears quite prominently is that of the victim. This category is mentioned in 22 postings, that is 36.7% of the 60 postings that mention a secondary character. The posters mention victims that have been murdered as in Vampire Bytes by

Linda Grant in which “Catherine is hired to find a missing software designer ...[who] is found dead” (16 March 1999), or that have disappeared as in Butcher’s Hill by , in which Tesser Monaghan, must “locate some lost foster children ...[and] help a woman find the daughter she long ago gave up for adoption” (11 March 1999).

A related category that appears in the ‘private investigator’ is that of the criminal.

This constituent is mentioned in only 8 postings, that is in 13.3% of the 60 postings that refer to a secondary character. In Dirty Pool by Steve Brewer “The kidnapper sent Dick a ransom note” (17 March 1999), while in Deadbeat by Wendi Lee “thieves have used Cynthia’s social security number and name, but given a false address so they have charged $75,000 to her name before she discovers it” (31 March 1999).

A different category is that of the background characters that appear in the ‘private investigator’ books. There are 36 postings that refer to this category which amounts to 60% of the 60 postings that mention a secondary character. Social milieu can be seen in Vampire

Bytes by Linda Grant in which, a subscriber says, the “portrayal of the minister is particularly sensitive” despite the “zealotry he pursues” (16 March 1999), or in The Father’s Club by Jon

Katz, in which “Kit Deleuuw ...innocent of any wrongdoing, ...refused to witness against his friends and co-workers” (1 March 1999).

Social commentary appears in 8 postings which translates as 6.2% of the 130 postings making reference to a ‘private investigator’ book. In Vampire Bytes by Linda Grant, “we have a computer literate and adventurous young generation, playing vampire games on their computers but also on the streets ... [and] concerned parents who see danger in such activities” (16 March 1999), while Dogsbody, INC by L. L. Thrasher “provides insight from 152 different perspectives to ...abortion” (18 March 1999). In The Father’s Club by Jon Katz

“Serious issues about parenting, marriage and loyalty are raised” (1 March 1999), and

Strawberry Sunday by Stephen Greenleaf is “a nice examination of issues surrounding farm workers” (24 March 1999). Social commentary may also deal with discrimination: “I envision a PI ... [w]ho knows the pain of being always the Other, the Alien. ... This PI would take the cases no one else wants: the cases of these ‘geeks,’ these ‘nerds,’ these Goths and metal heads and gamer kids” (2 May 1999), a subscriber explains.

Social Context in the ‘Thriller’

Of 98 postings referring to the ‘thriller’ 49 make reference to a secondary character.

The resultant percentage is 50% which is high.

The importance of the secondary characters is evident in the words of a subscriber speaking about Harmful Intent by Bainne Kerr, in which “the secondary players add depth to the tale”

(15 March 1999), or in the comments by another referring to A Cinderella Affidavit by

Michael Fredrickson, about which it is said that “The characters appear genuine and their various motives propel the plot to a dynamic climax” (29 May 1999).

The demand for developed secondary characters is also strong. There are 26 references that touch upon this element, 53.1% of the postings that mention a secondary character in a ‘thriller.’ 153

A subscriber mentions that in Kill Me First by Kate Morgenroth “The characters steal the novel. … The support cast provides insight into the minds of the lead players” (18 April

1999), while in Hart’s War by John Katzenback, another subscriber mentions that “The characters are incredibly developed as their raw feelings rip into the gut of the reader” (14

April 1999). Finally, “Philip Luber’s thrillers exhibit the best characteristics of that genre”

(17 April 1999) because “The villains are psychologically complex, their motives — though twisted — are understandable” (17 April 1999).

Posters also mention the victim. There are 22 references to the victim in the postings which translates into 44.9% of the 49 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller.’ It is said that in Every Trace by Cregg Main, “Ellen is determined to track down and kill the men who murdered her father 34 years before, but things don’t go according to plan” (25 March 1999).

Another subcategory that receives attention is that of the criminal. The criminal is mentioned in 23 of the postings referring to a ‘thriller’ which amounts to 46.9% of the 49 mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller.’ In Certain Prey by John

Sandford, the criminal is “Clara Rinka, professional hit-woman, who has never even been photographed” (15 April 1999).

Another important category is that of the family. There are 17 references to family members in the 49 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller’ 34.7%.

In Starr Bright Will Be With You Soon by Rosamund Smith, “Sharon returns to her family 154 home in New York. There her twin sister takes her into the heart of her own family, not knowing what festers underneath the surface of her sister” (28 March 1999). Often, as in

Mistaken Identity by Lisa Scottoline, the contribution of the family category becomes crucial to the story: Bennie Rosato “is plagued with questions about her own identity and her family’s past. Is Connolly innocent? And Is she really Bennie's unknown sister?” (1 May

1999), another subscriber explains.

Less frequent are references to friends or boyfriends/girlfriends. There are 12 references to this category in the postings referring to a ‘thriller’ which amounts to 24.5% of the 49 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller.’ More specifically, there are 7 references to girlfriends or boyfriends (14.3% of the 49 postings that mention a secondary character in a ‘thriller’) and 5 references to friends (10.2% of the 49 postings that mention a secondary character in a ‘thriller’). In Certain Prey by John Sandford, the friend of a hit woman called Carla Rinka is “The aggressive Carmel, a Minneapolis attorney” who

“decides to eliminate the opposition by having Clara kill the spouse” of “Hale Aller, a married real estate attorney” (15 April 1999).

The category of the police or the authorities is the next one that appears. There are 9 references to this category which translates into 18.4% of the 49 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller.’ Joanna Reed, in Reprisal by Mitchell Smith,

“argues with the local sheriff that both so-called accidents seem suspicious, but he figures she is just grieving” (1 May 1999).

There are secondary characters that fall into none of these categories and are treated as the broader social milieu. One sees this category in 16 postings which amounts to 16.3% of the 98 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to a ‘thriller.’ These characters are labelled as ‘other’ and may include references to the more general social context or other social groups. In Hart’s War by John Katzenback the ‘social milieu’ may 155 manifest in the faces of the “peers” of Tommy Hart “a prisoner of war ... held captive by the

Germans” and especially in the face of Lincoln Scott “a black man living with whites who loathe him almost as much as they detest their hosts, leaving him to deal with isolation and loneliness” (14 April 1999).

Another important aspect of the make-up of the social context of the books is whether the readers identify social commentary in them. In the ‘thriller,’ however, this category is not often identified in the postings of the subscribers. There are only 4 references rendering a very low 4.1% of the 98 postings referring to the ‘thriller.’ Hart’s War by John

Katzenback “shows how deep racial hatred can divide groups that should have more compelling factors to need each other” (14 April 1999) while, in Mistaken Identity by Lisa

Scottoline, Bennie, the heroine, “begins to question whether the entire justice system, from convicts to the police to the judge, are not tied in some form of conspiracy with drug traffickers” (2 March 1999). Another instance involves the comments of a subscriber talking about Judith Kelman’s “thought-provoking” After The Fall which “is a relationship drama that centers on the reality that once charged with a crime, a person and their family are guilty regardless of the ultimate outcome of the trial” (15 May 1999).

Comparison of the Social Context in the ‘Cosy’ & ‘Hardboiled’ Categories

The next step in the analysis of the subgenres of detective fiction in relation to the social context of each is to turn to the overall categories of the ‘hardboiled’ and the ‘cosy.’

The category of the overall ‘cosy,’ as already mentioned, counts 345 postings which refer to the simple ‘cosy’ or the ‘historical cosy’ or both. The overall ‘hardboiled’ category counts

391 postings referring to either the ‘hardboiled’ or the ‘police procedural’ or the ‘private investigator’ or the thriller or to a combination of any of them. 156

References to secondary characters appear 80 times in the postings referring to the

‘cosy’ and 75 times in the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is an overlap of 7 cases, so the final number of this characteristic in the postings is 148. This, in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category, which counts 345 postings, amounts to 42.9%. There are 26 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 69 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 60 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 49 in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 204 but there is an overlap of 17 postings, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 187 and the resultant percentage is 47.8%. It appears that readers display a tendency to appreciate secondary characters in both these genres, with a slightly higher percentage (5.1%) for the ‘hardboiled.’

The subscribers to DorothyL ascribe considerable importance to developed secondary characters. This characteristic appears in 56 of the postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and in

41of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ This amounts to 97 but there is an overlap of 3 cases, so the final number of this characteristic in the postings is 94, not 97. This in relation to the 148 postings mentioning secondary characters in the ‘cosy’ is a percentage of

63.5%. There are 15 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 51 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 37 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 26 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 129 but there is an overlap of 12 postings. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 117 and the resultant percentage is 62.6%, in relation to the secondary character category which amounts to187 postings. It seems, therefore, that subscribers to DorothyL value both subgenres for their developed characters as the percentages are not far apart. 157

Family appears in 29 of the postings referring to the simple ‘cosy’ and in 17 the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ So the final number of postings mentioning the characteristic of the family is 46. The resultant percentage in relation to the secondary character category which amounts 148 postings is 31.1%. There are 2 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 28 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 33 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 17 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 134 but there is a degree of overlap of 7 postings, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 127 and the resultant percentage is 67.9%; in relation to the secondary character category which amounts to 187 postings, which is twice as high as in the ‘cosy,’ a somewhat surprising result which warrants further analysis.

The boyfriend or girlfriend of the sleuth is in fact not mentioned very often. This characteristic appears in 15 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and none of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy,’ 10.1% of the 148 postings mentioning a secondary character. Boyfriends and girlfriends are somewhat more frequently mentioned in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’ There are 3 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the

‘hardboiled,’ 12 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 8 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 7 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ There is no degree of overlap, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 30 and the resultant percentage is 16 % of the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character.

Quite similar is the case with reference to friends. This characteristic appears in 15 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and none of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ This amounts to 10.1% of the 148 postings mentioning a secondary character. There are 3 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 0 in relation to the 158

‘police procedural,’ 7 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 5 in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 15. There is no degree of overlap, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 15 and the resultant percentage is 8% in relation to the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character. For this category the percentages are again low and similar for the two subgenres.

The category of the sleuth’s assistant appears in 10 of the postings mentioning the

‘cosy’ and in 11 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ The total number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 21 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the secondary character category of 148 postings this is 14.2%. There are 6 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’56 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 12 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and none in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 74. There is no degree of overlap. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 74 and the resultant percentage is 39.6% in relation to the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character, nearly three times as frequent as in postings mentioning the ‘cosy.’ A ‘hardboiled’ sleuth then is more likely to be described as having an assistant.

A special case of the sleuth’s assistant is the presence of a professional partner. This characteristic is not mentioned at all in any of the postings related to the ‘hardboiled’ but it appears in 10 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 2 of the postings referring to the

‘historical cosy’; there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the secondary character category of 148 postings this amounts to 8.1%. If the two categories of assistant and professional partner are put together, the combined category appears in 33 postings mentioning the ‘cosy,’ 22% of the 148 postings mentioning secondary characters. This is still less than half of the corresponding percentages for the ‘hardboiled.’ The sleuth’s assistant is 159 thus a much more prominent feature in the perception of readers when they discuss the various subgenres of the ‘hardboiled.’

The next characteristic whose frequency is to be assessed in relation to the overall

‘cosy’ category is that of the victim. This characteristic appears in 42 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 23 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ The total number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 65 and there is a degree of overlap of 4 cases. So the final number for this characteristic stands at 61. In relation to the 148 postings mentioning a secondary character the resultant percentage is 41.2%. The victim is also closely connected to the discussion of the overall ‘hardboiled’ category. There is no posting mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ but 45 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 22 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 22 in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 89. There is no degree of overlap. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 89 and the resultant percentage is 47.6% in relation to the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character. The percentages for the victim category are quite close as this character is mentioned equally by the posters when speaking about both categories.

The murderer is mentioned in 19 postings when talking about the ‘cosy,’ and in 13 when referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no degree of overlap, so the final number of postings mentioning the murderer in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category is 32. Statistically, this amounts to 21.6% of the 148 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category. There is 1 posting mentioning the murderer in relation to the

‘hardboiled,’ 21 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 8 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 23 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 53.

There is no degree of overlap. So, the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 53 and the resultant percentage is 28.3% in 160 relation to the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character in relation to the overall

‘hardboiled’ category. The percentages of this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ categories are again not very far apart.

The next parameter involved in the discussion of the overall ‘cosy’ category is that of the police. This characteristic is mentioned in 11 postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 3 postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no overlap, so the final number is 14 postings. For this characteristic only the instances where the police force is mentioned generally have been counted, not including instances of an amorous relationship between a police officer and the sleuth which forms a different category as already mentioned. The 14 postings amount to 9.5% of the 148 postings mentioning secondary characters in the overall

‘cosy’ category. There are no postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the

‘hardboiled,’ 23 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 10 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 9 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 42.

There is no degree of overlap. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 42 and the resultant percentage is 22.5% in relation to the 187 postings mentioning a secondary character. Posters are twice as likely then to mention this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ than in relation to the ‘cosy.’

About half of the mentions appear in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ which is logical.

Finally, in some postings one may see the broader social milieu mentioned. This characteristic appears in 37 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 32 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ The total number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 69 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category of 345 postings this amounts to 20%. There are 10 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 35 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 36 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 16 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 97. 161

There is a degree of overlap of 5 cases, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 92 and the resultant percentage is 23.5%. Posters it appears are likely to mention this characteristic with the same rate when speaking about both overall categories.

Social commentary appears in 10 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 19 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ The total number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 29 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category of 345 postings this amounts to 8.4%. There are 3 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 4 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 8 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 4 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 19. There is no degree of overlap, and the resultant percentage in relation to the total count of postings for the overall ‘hardboiled’ category of 391 postings is 4.9%.

This characteristic is thus nearly twice as prominent in postings mentioning the overall ‘cosy’ category as in the ‘hardboiled’ one.

It appears from the above data that readers display a tendency to appreciate both categories for the secondary characters involved, with a slightly higher percentage (5.1%) for the ‘hardboiled.’ Moreover, they are likely to value both subgenres for their developed characters, as the percentages are high and not far apart. The percentages for the victim category and the murderer category are quite close and fairly high for both ‘cosy’ and

‘hardboiled’ as this character is mentioned equally by the posters when speaking about both categories. The broader social milieu is also one of the characteristics with a high percentage for both subgenres. Another important characteristic is that of family. Despite the fact that it merits significant percentages in the discussion of both subgenres, it is considered as a more important characteristic for the ‘hardboiled’ category (especially in the ‘thriller’ and ‘private investigator’ subgenres) as it is mentioned in twice as many postings as in the ‘cosy.’ 162

Another category which shows great difference in the percentages it merits in relation to both overall categories is that of the assistant of the sleuth. A ‘hardboiled’ sleuth is more likely to be described as having an assistant, as the respective percentages for the ‘cosy’ would be labeled low (14.2%) and that of the ‘hardboiled’ quite high (39.6 %). Posters are twice as likely also to mention the police in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ than in relation to the ‘cosy.’

On the other hand, social commentary is nearly twice as prominent in postings mentioning the overall ‘cosy’ category.

Readers of both ‘hardboiled’ and ‘cosy’ novels, then, seem to appreciate developed secondary characters and attach importance to the personal relationships of the sleuth. They are less interested in explicit social commentary, although a number of readers of the ‘cosy’ attach importance to this characteristic as well.

Time & Setting

Posters believe that “the setting and time are important existents in the novel. In fact, ideally the plot should be constructed so it is unique to a particular time and place” (13 March

2000). As such, subscribers to DorothyL suggest that both should receive vivid descriptions.

“If you’re going to write historical fiction, make the time an important part of the story. Even if it’s only boring old 1984, make it come alive for me. Don’t confuse me with a new book with no historical detail and no contemporary technology” (24 August 2002) a subscriber suggests. However, posters stress that this should be done in an apparently effortless manner because

A good historical novel, mystery or not, relies less on all the little details that

would tell a historian that she was reading about the early nineteenth century,

for example, and more on the recreation of the setting as a whole. If I find

myself admiring the scholarship of the writer rather than being caught up in -- 163

and believing in -- the story, it is often because the writer has tried so hard to

depict a specific time that he has neglected to create a place where his story

can come alive. (20 September 2003)

Moreover, there is a strong distinction between rural and urban settings despite comments that may suggest similarities. Taylor’s Cold Front “does show that people on the

Plains are as complicated, as bad and as good as the citizens of rural England or urban

Maryland or anywhere else on the face of the earth” (9 December 2009), a subscriber mentions, while another enquires about the differences that the two settings may imply: “Are there differences between urban and rural departments? Any explanation of the structure of the police would help greatly” (5 August 2002).

Time & Setting in the ‘Cosy’

Of 208 postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ there are 11 that refer to time, as for instance in the comment of a subscriber suggesting that “Carola Dunn’s Daisy Dalrymple series ... set in England in the early 20s” is “Highly recommended for lovers of English Cosies” (7 April

1999). This translates into 5.3%, which means that when it comes to the ‘cosy,’ the time reference is not strong. Moreover, even when it is mentioned it is more likely to be related to general requests or comments than to a particular book.

The setting is regarded as more important than time for the subscribers to DorothyL and this is evident in the statistics. There are 73 references to the ‘cosy’ setting, which amounts to 35.1% of the 208 postings referring to a ‘cosy.’ 164

However, it is also conspicuous that of these references, 45 make clear reference to a rural setting rather than an urban one. This translates into 61.6% of the postings making reference to the setting in a ‘cosy’ story. An important aspect of this category is the fact that what subscribers refer to as ‘cosy’ setting is either clearly a rural setting or a small town or a very small secluded space. A subscriber mentions that “One of the mainstays of the mystery genre is the ‘cozy.’ These traditional mysteries are frequently set in English villages and country homes--though American settings are growing more common” (25 January 1999). In a rare mention of urban settings in relation to the ‘cosy,’ one subscriber writes: “If I really could choose my neighbour it would most likely be Mathew Scudder probably because I know he would never leave New York and living near him would mean that I have left boring

Cape Cod for the far more exciting Big Apple” (21 March 1999). The setting may also come in the form of a very secluded small place. There are instances in the postings when subscribers feel they have to stress the secluded place element rather than give a broader geographical topos. A subscriber responding to a question about bodies in libraries and murders in secluded places says that “Ruth Dudley Edwards's Matricide at St. Martha's featured murder by library ladder; James Anderson's The Case of the Blood-stained Egg Cosy had bodies ... especially the library; 's Sheer Torture (Death by Sheer Torture) used the library... and Barbara Paul's But He Was Already Dead When I Got There is the epitome of the body in library” (29 March 1999). 165

The rural setting is so important for readers of the ‘cosy’ that there are 11 instances in the number of postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ which also make reference to a movement of the sleuth from an urban environment to a rural one in order to become the sleuth in a ‘cosy’ story. This amounts to 15.1% of the 73 postings mentioning the setting in relation to the

‘cosy.’ Posters often also stress that there is an ex professional involved as In Ordinary

Justice by Trudy Labovitz, in which “former Justice Department employee Zoe Kergullis flees DC to the quiet safety of Bickle County, West Virginia, home of her cousin” where after murder occurs she “decides to do her own investigation” (16 May 1999).

Subscribers also tend to stress the necessity for a vivid setting as it appears in 21 postings. Seen in relation to the 73 postings mentioning the setting in relation to a ‘cosy’ story, these 21 references amount to 28.8%.

Posters appreciate it when a setting “come[s] alive” (11 January 1999), or when it “provides readers with a genuine feel for the rural area” (17 January 1999) thus stressing “the realism of the setting” (31 May 1999). Occasionally, this characteristic is seen as a saving grace, as is the case with the “mysteries of Freda Bream featuring the Anglican cleric the Reverend Jabal

Jarrett ...[which] include some marvellous descriptions of the country which more than make up for whatever weaknesses in plots they contain” (2 March 1999).

166

Time & Setting in the ‘Historical Cosy’

Of 150 postings referring to the ‘historical cosy’ there are 90 that also make reference to the time aspect. The resultant percentage is quite high (60%), which is to be expected since the historical parameter is the defining feature of this subgenre. Speaking of The Poison

Garden, a subscriber suggests that “What really makes this novel a classy read is the passion

Karen Harper obviously has for the era which beautifully rises from the superb prose” (31

January 1999).

Besides the demand for a time reference in the postings, there is also a strong tendency to link the temporal dimension of a book with considerations of accuracy or credibility. In the words of a subscriber, “the writer does have some responsibility to be accurate” (25 January 1999). The time reference is specified in 83 cases and the distribution is the following:

Time Frequency 1900-1999 26 Victorian 1800-1900 22 Ancient times 12 Middle Ages 7 Elizabethan/Renaissance 9 1500-1600 Restoration 4 1600-1700 1700-1800 3

Thus, the most popular time frames are those of the 19th and 20th century and ancient times when it comes to the ‘historical cosy.’ Whatever the time reference, it is important to 167 notice that there is a common underlying thread in the comments of the subscribers indicating that one cannot describe or comment on the time of the ‘historical cosy’ unless one makes reference to the setting as well. Most comments are along the lines of the one elaborating on

In the Time of the Poisoned Queen by Ann Dukthas, which inextricably intertwines setting and time: “The book captures this tumultuous era very well” and “The reader finds herself firmly in that time and attune to the sights, smells and sounds of sixteenth century London”

(2 February 1999)

The next step, then, is to examine the issue of setting in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’ Of 150 postings referring to the ‘historical cosy’ there are 81 which also make reference to setting of a ‘historical cosy’ book. This amounts to 54% as is clear from the chart below.

The significance of setting for the makeup of a ‘historical cosy’ is clearly evident in the words of a subscriber who classifies it as one of the most important aspects of a

‘historical cosy’: “I read all kinds, and often more for setting and characters, but I do have a couple of immediate suggestions: if you don’t object to historical settings ... read some of the acknowledged mistress, Ellis Peters. They have everything - characters, setting, relationships, and some exceptional plots” (16 January 1999).

The subscribers to DorothyL perceive the necessity of establishing a vivid setting when it comes to the historical ‘cosy.’ There are 48 postings that indicate this characteristic in some way. There are postings which describe the setting vividly but there are also postings 168 which comment on the necessity of a vivid setting for the ‘historical cosy.’ Statistically, 48 postings amount to 59.3% of the postings mentioning the setting in connection with a

‘historical cosy.’

The importance of the vivid setting is clear in the following comment of a subscriber to DorothyL, who is also a writer: “I’ve evolved a kind of philosophy for writing historical fiction, which is: ... I must research my setting and period until I know so well what really

DID happen, that I’m able to construct my fictional tale in the spaces that make gaps between what is known and not known” and “the book that best illustrates this is the one I had the most research material to deal with before I wrote: FIRE AND FOG, which takes place during and after the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake and Fire” (23 January 1999).

The setting, therefore, evokes considerations of accuracy and responsibility for the subscribers to DorothyL. Time and setting must be “rendered with care and accuracy” (29

January 1999). According to another subscriber, setting “is a big subject. ...In historicals, like

Dean’s wonderful Hong Kong, we count and depend on accuracy. I know I do. I don’t like to be messed around about the past or foreign places” (24 January 1999).

From the table below it is quite safe to claim that there is a diversity in the ‘historical cosy’ when it comes to setting. There are 28 references to an American setting, 23 references to an English setting, and 27 references to other settings both in Europe and in the east. The distribution of the settings is more variable when it comes to books with an American setting rather than an English one. Moreover, there does not seem to be a strong tendency for 169 secluded settings as in the simple ‘cosy.’ Finally, there seems to be a preference for Italian settings as Rome is the most prominent among other settings.

SETTING IN THE ‘HISTORICAL COSY’ SETTINGAmerican IN Setting THE ‘HISTORICAL English COSY’ Setting Other

Chicago 5 England 15 Rome 7 New York 4 London 6 Japan 3 San Francisco 3 Oxford 1 Spain 2 Pittsburgh 2 Dorset 1 France 2 Indiana 2 Paris 2 U.S.A 2 Egypt 2 Maryland 1 Titanic 2 Manhattan 1 Vienna 2 Missouri 1 New south Wales 2 Minnesota 1 Mythical medieval 1 Cincinnati 1 GreeceSpain 1 Toronto 1 Venice 1 Boston 1 New Orleans 1 Los Angeles 1 Baltimore 1

Time & Setting in the ‘Hardboiled’

The first important observation when it comes to examining time and setting in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ is that there are only 5 instances of time mentioned in the postings commenting on the ‘hardboiled.’ Statistically, this amounts to 5% of the 101 postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled.’ A subscriber, for instance, suggests that “Hammett and

Chandler … are lively and quick--they have the dash and verve and rhythms of American speech and they absolutely define an era. The prose is pure energy” (2 March 1999).

The next step is to look at the setting related to the ‘hardboiled.’ Of 101 postings referring to the ‘hardboiled’ there are 18 that also make a clear reference to setting. This amounts to 17.8% of the postings referring to the ‘hardboiled.’ 170

The importance of the setting is evident in the words of a subscriber who says: “I’ m really just looking for great stories, interesting characters and settings, fine writing - something terrific I couldn’t do myself” (10 January 1999). The setting may be phrased in more general terms indicative of the tone of the novel, as is the case with the comments of the subscriber who says: “I have read several of the Leo Haggerty series by Benjamin Schutz

[which] are well worth hunting down for fans of the hardboiled school. Down these mean streets etc.” (4 April 1999). The ‘mean streets’ are so closely linked to the ‘hardboiled’ tradition that one subscriber tried to organise a convention with that title (27 May 1999).

Another subscriber warns about a ‘hardboiled’ “story [that] takes place in India” (12 April

1999) that “It is much darker then I usually read—I’d say darker then Minette Walters.

...This is an intriguing book but if you read nothing but cozies, forget it!” (12 April 1999).

Subscribers mentioning setting in the ‘hardboiled’ stress the necessity for a vivid setting in 3 instances, 16.7% of the 18 postings mentioning a setting. This observation, however, is related to the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre not the overall ‘hardboiled’ category which includes, besides the clear-cut ‘hardboiled’ the ‘police procedural,’ the ‘private investigator’ and the ‘thriller.’ It remains an open question, therefore, whether the overall ‘hardboiled’ category commands a vivid setting already evident for the overall ‘cosy’ category.

171

Time & Setting in the ‘Police Procedural’

Of 106 postings referring to the ‘police procedural,’ there are 17 that also refer to time. In other words, 16% of the postings refer to time.

Examples of poster references to time are ample. In City Blues by Paula L. Woods

“The story line is loaded with action and insight as the days following the LA riots of 1992 are explored from the unique perspective of a Black female cop” (21 January 1999). The time reference is crucial for this book because, as the same subscriber continues, “The

Rodney King beating and verdict, and the subsequent riots have divided the city of Los

Angeles along racial lines. Thus, any minority found outside after curfew takes one hell of a risk from the predominately Caucasian police force” (21 January 1999). Another subscriber says: “Creasy wrote three of the best mid-century British series around ...The procedurals not only brought British police procedures to the masses, they covered a wide variety of cases and created some really vivid characters … They are very much books of their time and place; attitudes toward women and non-WASP cultures might seem more than a little non-PC today” (12 April 1999)

A final observation is that, in most cases when the ‘police procedural’ is mentioned, the time reference is most likely to be the 20th century. In fact, of the 17 references to time,

14 are references to the 20th century. The internal distribution of this category is as follows:

172

20th century Other 1990s 5 Modern Times 1 1980s 2 2004 1 1950s 5 1892 1 1930s 2 The setting of the ‘police procedural’ is equally important, as there are 56 references to it in the postings referring to the particular subgenre. This amounts to 52.8% of the 106 postings that mention the ‘police procedural.’

“Chicago has never been as alive as it is in a Hugh Holton novel. His latest Cole entry, THE LEFT HAND OF GOD, is a taut ‘police procedural’ that opens up both the elite and the underbelly of the city” (27 January 1999), a subscriber stresses, while another testifies to the importance of the setting when speaking of the series of ‘police procedurals’ by Jo Bannister: “The next in the series is COLD IN THE EARTH. Meredith goes to stay at a cottage on Pook’s Common near Bamford for Christmas. ... Again, the haunted aspect of the region around Bamford is a major element in the story” (24 March 1999). Similarly, in

Hermit’s Peak by Michael McGarrity “The descriptions of the unique geography of New

Mexico remains deep in the audience's mind long after finishing the novel” (11 May 1999).

The setting of the ‘police procedural’ may be either rural or urban. In the postings there are 14 references to an urban setting and 12 references to a rural setting. In relation to the 56 postings mentioning the setting, rural setting amounts to 21.4% and urban setting to

25%. “Mary Logue, introduces a new sleuth, police officer Claire Watkins, in a small town, 173

Wisconsin setting in BLOOD COUNTRY” (24 March 1999), a subscriber says, stressing the importance of the rural setting. The Woman in the Yard by Stephen E. Miller presents a similar case: “In spite of this being his debut novel, Mr. Miller has raised the quality level of the historical rural southern police procedural with this entertaining novel” (10 April 1999).

In Evanly Choirs by Rhys Bowen, “Internationally renowned opera singer I for Llewllyn has returned to his hometown of Llanfair, Wales for some needed rest” (7 May 1999).

References to the urban setting are along the lines of the following comment by a subscriber: “Michael Connelly’s new mystery, ANGELS FLIGHT, ... is well written and well plotted, with a backdrop of a city about to explode in racial violence. The uneasy quiet of multi-ethnic Los Angeles is very well portrayed as it provides an impetus to completing the investigation” (15 March 1999). Another subscriber links the urban setting to the ‘police procedural’ in a more emphatic way:

Take a bitter, suicidal, but brilliant quadriplegic, a former criminalist. Add a

glamorous ex-model now a NYPD patrol person. Throw in a homicidal killer

who can’t decide what year it is. Shake well, add a healthy dash of NewYork

City. Place these ingredients in the hands of that most excellent novelist,

Jeffery Deaver. He who scored high with A MAIDEN’S GRAVE. What you

get is THE BONE COLLECTOR, a riveting, scary, suspenseful ‘police

procedural.’ (28 February 1999)

The internal distribution of the setting category in the ‘police procedural’ is as follows:

174

U.S.A ENGLAND 1 SCOTLAND Other 13 Los Angeles 5 London 5 Glasgow 2 Chicago 4 Bamford 1 Edinburgh 1 California 3 Castlemere 1 Lochdubh 1 Minnesota 3 Falmouth 1 Yorkshire 1 Arizona 1 Highfield Surrey 1 Atlantic city 1 Thornfield 1 Brooklyn 1 Fairhaven-Ohio 1 Las Vegas 1 Louisiana 1 Manhattan 1 Massachusetts 1 Miami 1 Minneapolis 1 New Hannover 1 New Orleans 1 county in South New York 1 SeattleCarolina 1 Virginia 1 Wisconsin 1

Time & Setting in the ‘Private Investigator’

In the ‘private investigator’ subgenre, there are only 8 postings which refer to time.

Statistically, the percentage of time references in relation to the 130 postings mentioning a

‘private investigator’ book is 6.2%. Time is usually a general reference, as in “Lupe Solano

contemporary P.I set in Miami” (13 April 1999). Broadly speaking then this is an issue which

does not seem to interest posters, perhaps because they assume that the ‘private investigator’

story is usually set in the modern period.

The setting category, however, is much more important, as it amounts to 48 references

(36.9% of the 130 postings) referring to ‘private investigator’ stories. 175

The reference to setting is often a simple place name. For example, Vampire Bytes by Linda Grant features Catherine “a private investigator in San Francisco” (16 March 1999).

The internal distribution of the setting category is as follows:

SETTING IN THE ‘PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR’ Los Angeles 6 Hawaii 1

New York 6 Hong Kong 1 Arizona 3 London 1 Ohio 3 Long Island 1 Atlanta 2 Manhattan 1 Albuquerque 2 Mexico 1 Boston 2 Miami 1 Florida 2 Michigan 1 New jersey 2 North Carolina 1 Oregon 2 San Antonio 1 Washington 2 Scotland 1 Atlanta 1 St Francisco 1 California 1 Sydney 1 Canada 1 Tel Aviv 1 Cleveland 1 Virginia 1 Greenwich village 1 Other 1

The quality of the setting, a category that was seen as important in other subgenres, receives less attention when it comes to discussing ‘private investigator’ stories. There are only 13 references to this aspect which translates into 27.1% of the postings mentioning setting in relation to a ‘private investigator’ story. Of these 6 are references to a rural setting and 7 to an urban setting. Statistically the rural category amounts to 12.5% of the postings 176 mentioning setting in relation to a ‘private investigator’ story. The urban category amounts to 14.6% of the 48 postings mentioning the setting in relation to a ‘private investigator’ story.

A subscriber points to a rural setting in the‘private investigator’ story Strawberry

Sunday by Stephen Greenleaf. In this book, “P.I. John Marshall Tanner meets Rita Lombardi

… Rita invites him to visit her in the strawberry picking area of Salinas, where she lives and is active in improving conditions for workers” (24 March 1999). The importance of the setting is clear since the story revolves around agricultural issues. An instance of an urban setting is that which appears in The Life and Crimes of Harry Levander by Merele Day. A subscriber says that this book “introduces PI Claudia Valentine, who is asked to look into the death of the brother of a school friend …. going through a noir Sydney that is superficially full of bright sunlight. A really excellent introduction to Australian crime writing” (24 March

1999).

The vividness of the setting is another distinct category for the subgenres discussed so far but it does not prove so strong for the ‘private investigator’ stories. There are only 8 references to this aspect which amounts to 16.7% of the postings mentioning setting in relation to a ‘private investigator’ story. For the subscribers of these postings setting is vital in their recommendations: “Perhaps Ms. O’Callaghan’s strongest quality ... is her sense of place. Orange County and Los Angeles are very clearly described and I was transported to the wealth of the suburbs and some of the rougher neighborhoods of L.A.” (22 March 1999).

177

Time & Setting in the ‘Thriller’

Time in the ‘thriller’ is not a strong category, as there are only 6 references to time in the postings that refer to the ‘thriller’ (6.1% of the 98 postings. The Other Daughter by Lisa

Gardner presents a story taking place “In 1977, [when] Russell Lee Holmes became the last convicted person electrocuted at the Huntsville Prison in . ... Twenty-five years later,

Larry receives an anonymous phone call that leads him to Melanie Stokes, the adopted daughter of one of the families who died at the grisly hands of Russel” (25 May 1999). In this case, the time reference is 1977 and twenty-five years later, that is, 2002. The comments were posted in 1999 so the second time reference is a projection in the future, during which the greater part of the story unfolds.

The setting is more important for the ‘thriller’ as there are 27 references to this characteristic in the postings referring to the ‘thriller.’ This amounts to 27.6% of the postings referring to the ‘thriller.’

There are instances when the rural setting is clearly pronounced. In Have Mercy On Us by

Philip Luber Fawcett, “Walden Pond becomes a crime scene instead of a scenic spot in the fourth book about Concord-based psychiatrist Harry Kline” (17 April 1999). Other instances involve an urban setting. In Every Trace by Gregg Main, a “woman seeks the man who killed her father ... [and] her search takes her to LA” (22 April 1999). The postings mentioning setting amount to 27, so obviously there is a degree of overlap of 6 cases. Thus, the number of postings mentioning rural setting is 10 (37% of the 27 postings mentioning setting in the 178

‘thriller’) and the number of urban settings is 23 (85.2% of the 27 postings mentioning setting in the ‘thriller’). As a result the final distribution for the setting in the ‘thriller’ is as follows: 4 (14.8%) mentioning a rural setting, 17 (63%) mentioning an urban setting, and finally 6 (22.2%) postings mentioning both.

The internal distribution of the setting category in the ‘thriller’ is the following:

SETTING IN THE ‘THRILLER’ U.S.A 4 London 1 New York 3 Long Island 1 Los Angeles 2 Michigan 1 Los Allegros-California 2 Military camp 1 New Hampshire 2 Pillsbury-Surrey 1 Washington,DC 2 Savannah 1 Assconset-Massachusets 1 Seattle 1 Boston 1 Vancouver island 1 Dorset 1 Walden pond 1 Egypt 1 Willoridge rest home 1 Ennis Killen Ireland 1 Ystad-Sweden 1 Hollywood 1 Zurich 1

From a careful consideration of the above table one may come to the conclusion that a considerable number of ‘thrillers’ favour a rural place as their setting, or a fairly secluded one such as an island. Of the 33 specified in the above table, 23 (69.7%) are identified as large cities and 10 (30.3%) are small towns, rural areas or isolated places.

179

Comparison of Time & Setting in the Overall ‘Cosy’ & ‘Hardboiled’ Categories

The historical time of the action is mentioned 11 times in the postings referring to the

‘cosy’ and 90 times in the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is an overlap of 4 cases, so the final number of this characteristic in the postings is 97. This in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category, which counts 345 postings, amounts to 28.1%. As far as the overall

‘hardboiled’ category is concerned, the time element appears less often. There are 5 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 17 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 8 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 6 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 36. There is no degree of overlap. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 36 and the resultant percentage is 9.2%. Apparently, time is considered more important for the description of the ‘cosy’ than for that of the ‘hardboiled.’ Obviously, it is felt to be an essential characteristic of the ‘historical cosy.’

The second characteristic mentioned by the subscribers to DorothyL is that of the setting. This characteristic appears in 73 of the postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and in 81of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is an overlap of 7 cases, so the final number of this characteristic in the postings is 147. This in relation to the overall ‘cosy’ category amounts to 42.6%. There are 18 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 56 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 48 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 27 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 149 but there is a degree of overlap of 17 postings. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 132 and the resultant percentage is 33.8% of the 391 postings making reference to the ‘hardboiled’ category.

Setting, then, seems to be perceived as important for both categories, slightly more so for the

‘cosy.’ 180

The rural setting appears in 45 of the postings referring to the simple ‘cosy’ but it is not mentioned as such in the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ The resultant percentage in relation to the 147 postings mentioning the setting in relation to a ‘cosy’ is

30.6%. The importance of the rural setting for the ‘cosy’ is also seen in the 11 postings mentioning the movement of the sleuth from an urban to a rural environment in order to function as an amateur (7.5% of the postings mentioning a ‘cosy’ setting).

Though there are mentions of a rural setting in connection with the ‘hardboiled’ category (28 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category translates into 21.2% in relation to the 132 postings mentioning the setting) the urban setting is much more significant for the overall ‘hardboiled’ category. There are no postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 14 in relation to the

‘police procedural,’ 7 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 23 in relation to the

‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 44 and there is no degree of overlap. So the final number of 44 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall

‘hardboiled’ category translates into the resultant percentage of 33.3% in relation to the 132 postings mentioning setting in the ‘hardboiled’ category. The category of the urban setting does not appear at all in the ‘cosy’ category.

Another characteristic that seems to be very important for the subscribers as it appears constantly in their discussions is that of the vividness of the setting. This characteristic appears in 21 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and in 48 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There are 2 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to both subgenres, so once this is subtracted, what is left is 67 postings making reference to the characteristic of vividness. If the 67 postings are viewed in relation to the 147 postings that mention the setting in the ‘cosy’ category, then the percentage becomes 45.6%.

It is, however, much less important for readers of ‘hardboiled’ stories. There are 3 postings 181 mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ none in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 8 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and none in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 11 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 132 postings mentioning setting in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ category, this percentage becomes 8.3%, very low compared to correspondent related to the ‘cosy.’

In conclusion, the characteristic of time appears as quite important for the description of the ‘cosy’ as it appears in 28.1% of the postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and less important for the ‘hardboiled’ as it appears only in 9.2% of the postings. The setting is seen as equally important for both categories as it merits a high 42.6% for the ‘cosy’ and a nearly equally high 33.8% for the ‘hardboiled.’ The rural setting appears as a strong category for the ‘cosy’ as it appears in 30.6% of the postings mentioning the setting in the ‘cosy’ category while it appears in 21.2% of the postings mentioning the setting in the ‘hardboiled’ category. In contrast, the category of the urban setting appears in 33.3% of the postings mentioning setting in the ‘hardboiled’ but not at all in the ‘cosy.’ Movement from urban to rural environment appears in 7.5% of the postings mentioning setting in the ‘cosy’ category but does not appear at all in the ‘hardboiled’ category. The characteristic of the vivid setting is seen as mandatory in the description of the ‘cosy’ as is evident in the 45.6% of the postings mentioning ‘cosy’ setting but this does not hold for the ‘hardboiled’ as the same characteristic appears in only

8.3% of the postings mentioning setting .

Technique

Technique is the final important aspect of detective fiction that subscribers focus on and there are a number of considerations related to it.

To begin with, subscribers are interested in immediacy which is even more difficult to create for historical mysteries because “Historical mysteries, even those of recent history, can 182 try the talents of even the most skilled writers. The challenge is to bring a strong seamless sense of immediacy to the modern day reader. The reader is, essentially, entering another world with its own sets of problems inherent to its day” (7 Mar 2001).

Immediacy is often linked to the narrative mode of a detective fiction book: “My own reasons for writing in present tense are simple enough: I like the immediacy of doing it, the angle it gives me with a first person narrator as an entry into their mind, and the ability it allows for an unreliable narrator to not seem like device” (16 January 2003).

Another aspect of detective fiction technique is related to predictability. In the words of a subscriber, “There’s nothing wrong with the predictability of series fiction; it’s still art and it’s still truly fine art when it’s done well” (11 August 1999). For others, however, it is not a pleasant quality as it mars suspense. Talking about You’ve Got Murder by Donna

Andrews a subscriber says: “I liked this one, but I got a little tired of the predictability of the plotting. There are cliffhangers at the end of every chapter, then on to another character’s viewpoint, etc. Grrr. I like Surprises! and there was only one, and I didn’t like it” (16

November 2003). Therefore, the plot introduces the issue of believability which is often related by posters to the denouement of the story. For subscribers a good author “ties everything together with a surprise ending” (8 January 1999) but makes sures that it isn’t

“rushed or implausible” (17 September 1999) and that the clues are “all apparent to the reader” (17 September 1999).

Another aspect related to the technique in the postings of the subscribers is that of the nature of the plot or, as they call the dominant characteristic, the ‘who-done-it,’ the fact that the plot of a detective novel involves a mystery or riddle to be solved. A subscriber comments: “Whether we’re talking about cozies, police procedurals, or medical thrillers ... I get a kick out of playing the game of ‘who did it?’” (26 January 1999). However, there are other types of mystery as another subscriber acknowledges: “I just finished The Shortest Day 183 by Jane Langton … Personally, I didn’t think there was anything the least mysterious about the book: no whodunit, no howdunit, no howcatchum, no puzzle at all to figure out” (30

January 1999). This characteristic, then, is related to the quality of the puzzle and whether that involved a plot centered around finding who the culprit is or whether the criminal is known but the sleuth must uncover the motive, for instance. The ‘who done it,’ however, has another important implication for readers, namely “control. We don’t and can’t have it in real life but through whodunits and mysteries a sense of control is had by the reader. It follows a simple pattern no matter what the genre. Murder, someone did it, it’s investigated by a friend in ink, we find out who. All turns out well in the end, the murderer is caught or at least discovered, and closure is had” (28 May 1999).

Another debate that characterises the effort to categorise the subgenres of detective fiction and is related to the technique is that of the tone and whether that is light or hard. A subscriber speaking about Death Wore A Smart Little Outfit by Orland Outland suggests:

“This is a book that I would NEVER have picked up for myself. I don’t know who designed the cover, but it gave me the impression of the kind of book that I would find silly and tiresome. Instead, after comments on DL and hubby’s insistence, I’ve found a fast, fun, and very enjoyable light mystery” (15 January 1999). The particular subscriber thus, discloses some of the terms used to describe a lighthearted book which, however, is not silly. In contrast, readers who prefer a tougher tone in their detective fiction often speak of the difficulties the protagonist faces in these novels. The overall portrayal involves sleuths such as Robert Dietz who “puts up with and hands out no nonsense, is as tough as the situation requires” (18 February 1999). The ‘situation’ as the previous subscriber seems to imply is often equally demanding if not extremely violent. As another subscriber puts it, Thomas

Cook’s Instruments Of The Night “is certainly not for the squeamish...there are inferences to some graphically violent scenes” (1 January 1999). Once again, however, the tone of the 184 book does not entail that the book be good or bad. Laurie R. King’s A Darker Place, a subscriber says “is excellent” although “the tone is dark … and brooding” (26 February

1999).

The above differentiation, however, between light and hard detective fiction should not mislead one into thinking that light is inaccurate. “My books are sort of light-hearted and

I hope fun to read, but I feel I have a serious obligation to be accurate” (23 January 1999), a subscriber explains, while another summarises the importance of accuracy in writing as well as in reading: “As a reader, I often find that I enjoy the location and background of the book as much as the plot. I suppose it's a form of armchair travelling. It's a chance to learn something about another place and culture which often entertains and teaches me as much as the actual story. As a writer, I fall down on the job as much as anyone else, in spite of doing my best not to, I suppose” (25 January 1999).

Finally, one of the characteristics that would urge a poster to read a book is humour, which subscribers feel is equal to other main parameters constituting good reads. Subscribers read those stories “for character, setting, humour, and the whodunnit puzzle” (9 February

1999), or for “scenes [which] were clearly meant to be screamingly funny” (19 March 1999) even when related to the tougher specimens of fiction: “The best discovery must be some of the Australian/NZ writers I found this year: Paul Thomas, Jennifer Rowe, Shane Maloney.

Great stories, lots of humour in them also, along with the tough stuff” (11 November 1999).

Technique in the ‘Cosy’

The final characteristic that defines the subgenres of detective fiction is that of the writer’s technical skill. It is referred to in 154 postings which amounts to 74% of the 208 postings that mention the ‘cosy.’ 185

There are in total 17 references to plot organisation in relation to the ‘cosy.’

Statistically this amounts to 11% of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to a

‘cosy.’ “Wendy Hornsby who writes about Maggie McGowan,” a subscriber says, writes a book that “I’d recommend ... to readers who enjoy good whodunits” (13 January 1999), thus, pointing to the importance of plot organisation in relation to the ‘cosy.’ Another subscriber exclaims about The Dust Jacket Murders by Dr. Henry Thinklethwait: “Normally, I hate it when an author does that, but since Abby’s actually the killer …, I suppose it makes sense that the narrator held that back…. So it’s a lot like that famous Agatha Christie book, THE I-

DID-IT MURDERS, in which it turns out that the narrator did it” (27 January 1999).

Technique has many aspects in the posters’ appreciation of ‘cosies’ but predictability which is intertwined with that of the classic plot formula is only mentioned in three instances (1.9% of the 154 postings mentioning technique in the ‘cosy’). A subscriber explains about Murder in a Small Town: “It’s true, the story was full of classic/predictable cosy-isms” (15 January 1999), while speaking of Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger

Ackroyd, a group of subscribers who participated in the discussion stress that it “Used many classic devices -- chapters with titles, cast of characters, maps” (17 May 1999).

A further characteristic acknowledged in the ‘cosy’ is that of the immediacy or vividness of style as expressed by a subscriber talking about Tis the Season for Murder:

“Here’s a writer who sounds like she’s sitting next to you telling you the story. ... I certainly heard her voice loud and clear in this tale” (4 January 1999). Another way of achieving 186 immediacy is by actively engaging the reader which is the case of Circles of Confusion in which “Chapters end with actual vanity plates which the reader must Decipher” (18 January

1999). This characteristic is mentioned in 6 of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy,’ that is, in 3.9%.

Subscribers often suggest that it is “the tone that makes a book cozy nowadays…. it has … everything to do with tone (light, frothy, funny)” (12 May 1999), and that is what makes them “bedside or ‘waiting’ reading (reading while waiting for something to start...doesn’t require too much concentration” (5 May 1999). Tone appears in 46 of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy,’ which amounts to 29.9%.

The next characteristic that readers identify is that of relating a ‘cosy’ book to either the British or the American tradition. Murder in the Mist, for example, “is a charming

American cozy” (11 January 1999), while another subscriber clearly associates ‘cozy’ with

“traditional mysteries ... frequently set in English villages and country homes--though

American settings are growing more common” (25 January 1999). A writer who also contributes to DorothyL as a subscriber reports: “comments on my use of Americanisms in

EVANS ABOVE, illustrate the difficulties of writing for two audiences” since the “books were ... for a primarily American audience. I was scared, in the first book, of making it ‘too

British’” (8 January 1999). The subscriber also suggests that overcoming this dichotomy is not a conundrum: “As a fiction writer I can only say that I write fiction ... my own version of reality. Welsh villages are not all as uniquely Welsh as my invented Llanfair. ... But they are not as interesting to read about, which is why I have brought out the Welshness” (8 January

1999). The subscribers often associate ‘cosy’ and tradition, regardless of whether that is

English or American, in what appears to be a non-violent version of detective fiction: “There are many different types for instance: cozy/traditional ... If detailed sex and/or violence is off putting then you are probably going to land more in the traditional area and steer clear of the 187 mean streets types” (11 January 1999). References to this characteristic appear in 19 postings which amounts to 12.3% of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy.’

Accuracy is another characteristic that the subscribers introduce in relation to the quality of the writing. A subscriber summarises: “I have become a stickler for details, I think from reading so much. If a writer can't take the time to check facts, I can't spare the time to finish reading the book” (9 January 1999). Accuracy, however, is not very frequently mentioned appearing in the ‘cosy’ corpus, only 6 times. This translates into 3.9% of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy.’

Some subscribers point to the importance of the plot which should be “seamless,” as in Rhys Bowen’s Evan’s Above (11 January 1999) or “INTELLIGENT …complex, unpredictable, smart, and NOT wrapped up conveniently like there was a deadline looming”

(12 January 1999), however capable of satisfying the “yearn[ing] for happy endings” (25

April 1999). The characteristic of the plot appears 46 times in the postings referring to the

‘cosy.’ This amounts to 29.9% of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the

‘cosy.’

The degree of believability is seen as very important by the subscribers. It relates to

“the basic premise of the book [which must] be believable!” (29 January 1999). In fact, a common poster complaint is that “a large number of cozies [are] somewhat unrealistic” (10

May 1999). Posters become “little impatient with amateur and prefer a little more realism 188

(and less froth)” (6 May 1999). The characteristic of believability appears in 20 (13%) of the

154 postings making reference to technique in relation to the ‘cosy.’

Humour is another characteristic that receives attention especially when they don’t

“expect the humor and it’s a nice surprise” (11 January 1999). For instance, “Despite the seriousness of the theme” in Aileen Schumacher’s Framework For Death, “there is humor aplenty ... gentle humor, irony, that grows out of the characters and the situations in which they find themselves” (9 January 1999). The characteristic of humour appears in 27 (17.5%) of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy.’

The characteristic of narrative point of view appears in only 6 (3.9 %) of the 154 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘cosy.’ The fact that Charlie’s Bones by L.

L. Thrasher is “a wonderful book, told in the first person” which allows “the young heroine’s voice and perspective on life” (25 January 1999) to be heard describes for some posters one of the basic instrumentalities of narrative voice. But references are mostly in relation with the disruptive role of narrative voice which often functions as a red-herring and confuses the reader. However, it is part of the implicit contract that the “Narrator never lies in the narrative

-- he just leaves information out” (17 May 1999).

Technique in the ‘Historical Cosy’

Technique appears in 92 of the 150 postings that mention a ‘historical cosy.’ This amounts to 61.3% of the postings.

189

Considerations of the plot constitute a major characteristic of the technique of the

‘historical cosy.’ Posters are keen on a ‘historical cosy’ that is “a “deftly developed novel”

(12 January 1999) and is not “tedious” (20 January 1999). The enjoy ‘historical cosies’ such as Hoare And The Portsmouth Atrocities by Wilder Perkins in which “The story line is excellent” and “The mystery and the naval history ... are both intriguing and well written”

(12 January 1999). In contrast, they shy away from books like Nevermore by Harold

Schechter in which “the action never fully takes off and more often bogs downs, leaving readers wondering how this historical mystery with such a wonderful premise falls short” (6

January 1999). In fact, there are 38 references to plot structure, that is, 41.3% of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’

One of the elements that appear in the postings of the DorothyL contributors in relation to technique in the ‘historical cosy’ is the ‘who-done-it’ which must be the mechanics of an impeccable plot as in the Concubine’s Tattoo by Laura Joh Rowland whose

“story line is filled with intriguing detail into Japanese history and culture without slowing down the who-done-it” (12 January 1999), or in The Poison Garden by Karen Harper whose

“plot [also] includes a well-developed who-done-it” (31 January 1999). This characteristic appears in 15 (16.3%) of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’

There are only 2 references to narrative mode in the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy’ which amounts to 2.2%. point of view is mentioned in 190 relation to a ‘historical cosy’ only when the subscriber wishes to complain about its lack of efficiency. Invitation To A Funeral by Molly Brown “jumps from point of view to point of view so frequently that”, as a subscriber mentions, “I would just get into one subplot when I was jerked out of it and plopped into another. And, as we neared the conclusion, the shifts became more and more rapid” (24 January 1999).

A further characteristic mentioned by the posters to DorothyL is that of believability or credibility. Immaculate Reception by Jerrilyn Farmer is “‘over-the-top’ unbelievable, and much of the detecting seems to fall into place a little too easily” (1 May 1999). In Hyaenas by Sandy Dengler “there are a few jarring notes: I found it strained credulity to have a prehistoric shaman, steeped in an animistic form of religion, rather quickly embrace a monotheism, that far back in history” (5 February 1999). The issue of believability or credibility appears in 6 (6.5%) of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the

‘historical cosy.’

Another characteristic that the subscribers refer to is that of immediacy. The Poison

Garden by Karen Harper, for instance, succeeds in this premise as it “quickly captures the minds and souls of the audience” (31 January 1999) and so does Death At Rottingdean by

Robin Paige which has “a mesmerizing story line” (2 February 1999). Similarly, The Legend of Pope Joan by Peter Stanford “should delight mystery readers, since it has the pace, intrigue and compulsive readability of mystery novels” and is, according to the subscriber’s elaborations “a ‘sinful’ book, one so engaging that” the subscriber “had to put off doing things ... for the pleasure of finishing it” (14 March 1999). The characteristic of immediacy appears in 14 (15.2%) of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’

Another characteristic is that of accuracy. A subscriber commenting on this feature says “I particularly value good research in the case of historical fiction” (24 January 1999), 191 which seems to be firmly grasped by another subscriber and writer who says that “writers have a particular duty to be accurate ... I think I do have such an obligation, and in my case there’s the added difficulty of having the historical element to deal with. ... It’s not possible to put in every detail you research, because if you did you’d slow down the story-telling process too much. Each writer...has to make up his or her own mind where to draw the line”

(23 January 1999). There are 15 (16.3%) postings making reference to accuracy of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’

The fun or lightheartedness element which was so prominent in the subscribers’ comments on the ‘cosy,’ appears in the comments mentioning the ‘historical cosy’ too. A subscriber confesses “turning to historical mysteries to lighten the mood a little” (6 May

1999), while another mentions that Death at Gallows Green “was a very light, pleasant read”

(24 March 1999). This is apparently understood by writers as they point out this characteristic in their work: “My books are sort of light-hearted and I hope fun to read” (23

January 1999). The fun element appears in 11 (12%) of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy.’

Another characteristic that few subscribers relate to the ‘historical cosy’ in their postings to DorothyL is that of humour. Jade Palace Vendetta “has a couple of slapstick sequences that force you to laugh out loud” (25 May 1999) and in Invitation To A Funeral by

Molly Brown “The reader will find humor” (24 January 1999) too. However, in Guy Gavriel

Kay’s “The Lions Of Al-Rassan there is only “a little humor” (7 March 1999). These three references to humour amount to 3.3% of the 92 postings referring to technique in relation to the ‘historical cosy’

Another characteristic in the postings to DorothyL is that of the traditional or conventional elements which a book may adhere to. According to one poster, in The

Concubine’s Tattoo by Laura Joh Rowland, “The story adheres close to the conventions of 192 the mystery genre, especially at the climax” (3 February 1999). Another subscriber suggests that The Problem of the Spiteful Spiritualist by Roberta Rogow “is a finely tuned, extremely original late Victorian mystery that readers of historical who-done-its, Holmes, and Carroll will immensely enjoy” (23 May 1999). However, traditionality or conventionality is apparently felt to be one of the less important characteristics for the ‘historical cosy’ since it appears only two times (2.2%) of the 92 postings mentioning technique in relation to the

‘historical cosy.’

Technique in the ‘Hardboiled’

The element of technique is quite strong for the ‘hardboiled’ category, as it appears in

68 of the 101 postings that mention a ‘hardboiled.’ This amounts to 67.3% of the postings mentioning a ‘hardboiled.’

One of the first characteristics relating to the technique of the ‘hardboiled’ is that of the quality of the plot. In Blackheart Highway by Richard Barre, “the pacing is fast with no wasted words, and the plot is still on my mind” (1 April 1999), a subscriber says while another rmentions that “OAK TREE PRESS ANNOUNCES ITS FIRST ANNUAL

MYSTERY WRITING CONTEST” with the following caption: “Are you a hard-boiled son of a gun? Do you have what it takes to go on the lam, hunker down, and write a tough, exciting, thrilling, thickly plotted, pulse-pounding mystery?” (4 May 1999). The plot and 193 issues that relate to it appear in 17 (25%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

Less important in the postings related to the ‘hardboiled’ is accuracy. A subscriber suggests that ‘hardboiled’ mysteries do not respect the characteristic of accuracy in the sense that what they present is rather unrealistic: “Some hardboiled mysteries are so self- consciously grim they end up being as phony-baloney and laughable as those pristine little closed societies in some traditional mysteries” (29 May 1999). Another subscriber disagrees, saying that there is “the assumption that hard-boiled detective fiction is more ‘realistic’ than cozies. Given that it is all fiction, I know which one seems closer to depicting the ‘world’ of an ordinary person” (29 May 1999). The characteristic of accuracy appears in only three

(4.4%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

‘Hardboiled’ books are often related to ‘hardness.’ Subscribers suggest that the

“Hardboiled tale” is “not for the faint-hearted” (26 January 1999). However, they are also averse to extreme cases in which violence is unnecessary. “I... don’t like ‘light’ books, but

I’m not real happy when folks think I spend my time reading tough stuff with violence and profanity on every other page” (10 may 1999). The characteristic of hardness appears in 35

(51.5%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

The degree of the ‘traditional’ is another characteristic mentioned in the postings to

DorothyL. This characteristic relates to considerations of tradition and convention and the extent to which a book may adhere to established formulas or present elements of crossover, 194 or innovation. A subscriber says of Ian Rankin’s Knots and Crosses that it is “Not a traditional mystery -- here are clues, you figure it out” (24 March 1999). Another poster mentions that Hammett “took the hardboiled style from the pulps, and showed what could be done” (13 April 1999) while another suggests that Ross Macdonald “was the worthy ... successor to ‘hardboiled’ California writers Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler

...Macdonald not surprisingly gave the crime novel an unusual depth and resonance” (2 April

1999). The characteristic of tradition and convention appears in 8 (11.8%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

The element of fun, which featured prominently in the postings of DorothyL contributors about the ‘cosy,’ appears occasionally in the comments related to the

‘hardboiled’ and apparently is differently configured. “Angry Moon … is definitely hard boiled. I had a lot of fun with this book, it's quite different” (5 February 1999) a subscriber comments while Like A Hole In The Head by Jen Banbury, another subscriber says, “is a satirical look at Hollywood Noirs … turned upside down in an amusing and enjoyable manner” (31 march 1999). The characteristic of fun appears in 6 (8.8%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

The narrative mode receives less attention although “Memorable narrative voices are always a pleasure” (2 March 1999), according to a subscriber. Philip Kerr’s Philosophical

Investigation, a subscriber mentions, is “edgy” with a “multiple voice” (8 February 1999), while in relation to In A Dry Season by Peter Robinson another subscriber comments: “I usually find that this kind of split pov doesn’t work for me, but this was an exception” (25

May 1999). Narrative mode is mentioned in 2 (2.9%) of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

The immediacy created by the stylistic choices of the books under discussion is also another characteristic to which DorothyL contributors refer as “HARD-BOILED ... for all its 195 bleak worldview, has acquired a patina of familiarity” (2 March 1999). Above that, however, a hardboiled book must be able to grasp readers. Daughter Of Darkness by Ed Gorman, a

“Hardboiled tale of a former cop”, a subscriber says, “Grabbed me in the first two pages” (26

January 1999). Another subscriber, talking about The Day Dusty Died in the Lee Martin series by Deb Ralston, focuses on how immediacy may be created in a book: “although I figured out the answers early on (like end of second chapter) there was still enough to keep my interest and keep me reading. ... It was very thought-provoking” (3 March 1999). The characteristic of immediacy appears in 7 (10.3%)of the 68 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’

Technique in the ‘Police Procedural’

Technique in the ‘police procedural’ is the next part of our discussion. Of 106 postings mentioning the ‘police procedural’ there are 79 postings that also mention technique, which amounts to 74.5%.

One of the most important elements concerning the ‘police procedural’ subgenre is that of the plot. In Loyal Disloyalty by Jeffrey Ashford “the story line is incredibly fresh, introspectively intriguing, never slows down for a moment, and rates an A++.The latter part of the book is also a well-crafted English ‘police procedural’ that readers will immensely enjoy” (25 January 1999). Complaints also abound. Another subscriber talking about

Gabrielle Lord’s The Sharp End says: “I can find some fault with her work, i.e. the 196 conclusions and resolutions are frequently so action-packed as to be almost overwhelming, leaving this reader sometimes feeling just a wee bit whacked” (6 February 1999). Plot is the commonest characteristic of the ‘police procedural’ in the postings of the subscribers to

DorothyL. In fact, it is mentioned in 49 (62%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

Another characteristic that receives attention is that of believability. In Par Four by

Jake Hines “the seemingly scattered plot elements came together logically and plausibly by the books conclusion” (21 December 1999), while in The Trials of Nikki Hill by Christopher

Darden and Dick Lochte “the various subplots never seem to gel into a cohesive novel” (8

April 1999). Believability is mentioned in 12 (15.2%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

The characteristic of immediacy receives considerable attention from the subscribers to DorothyL as is evident in the comments on Hugh Holton’s Violent Crimes which range from totally positive as in “I got hooked” and “I couldn’t stop reading” to totally negative as in “I wasn’t hooked, didn’t care, didn’t want to go thru it all” (10 January 1999). In Perils Of

The Night by Patricia Hall “the brilliantly defined emotions, motivations, and interpersonal relationships propel the audience into non-stop reading until they finish the novel” (27

January 1999). Immediacy is mentioned in 22 (27.9%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’ 197

Another characteristic mentioned in the postings of the subscribers to DorothyL is that of ‘who-done-it.’ In Blood Money by Rochelle Krich, “The non-stop story line is built around a fabulous who-done-it” (18 January 1999), while Gabrielle Lord’s The Sharp End is

“a classic puzzle … who and why is the person perpetrating a series of murders” (6 February

1999). The element of ‘who-done-it’ is mentioned in 13 (16.5%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

A characteristic that receives less attention in the ‘police procedural’ in contrast to other subgenres is that of accuracy. Gabrielle Lord in The Sharp End “takes her guidance and structures from real life, and it’s distressing to read of events which one knows could have been factual. I’m talking attempted genocide here, folks, and perhaps it’ll make things clearer when I tell you that one of this country’s most effective, political slogans is ‘White

Australia has a Black History’” (6 February 1999). The element of accuracy is mentioned in only 1 (1.3%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.

The characteristic of lightheartedness is mentioned by a subscriber to DorothyL in the following words: “Readers of light, romantic suspense, woo-woo … English ‘police procedural’s … will be mesmerized” (19 January 1999). Moreover, in Ransom For Killing,

Fred Hunter “continues to provide readers with a marvelous mix that turn his tales into a fun time” (24 January 1999). The element of lightness is mentioned in only 8 (10.1%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

The narrative mode is also mentioned by subscribers to DorothlyL in relation to the

‘police procedural.’ Posters may enjoy the “unique perspective of a Black female cop” (21

January 1999) but may disapprove of Ashes ToAshes by Tami Hoag because “the villain’s

POV stuff was ‘same-old, same-old’” (19 May 1999). The element of the point of view of the narration is mentioned in only 7 (8.9%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’ 198

Posters to DorothyL also make limited reference to the characteristic of humour in relation to the ‘police procedural.’ One subscriber suggests that besides “some really nice writing” in Par Four by Jake Hines “There are subtle touches of humor” (21 December

1999). This is the only posting mentioning humour in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ statistically 1.3% of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

Hardness is a characteristic that is occasionally used to describe the ‘police procedural.’ The Bone Collector by Jeffery Deaver is a “scary, suspenseful ‘police procedural.’ How scary? Wall-crawling scary. Leave the lights on all night scary. But it’s not the kind of delicious scary Freddie Krueger or Cujo conjure up. This is dead of the night, chilling, bone scraping terror. And from the first page the tension and spiraling suspense grab you and hold you to the very end. There is no let-up” (28 February 1999). The element of hardness is mentioned in only 7 (8.9%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

A further characteristic that receives attention is that of issues pertaining to tradition and innovation in relation to whether a book is labelled English or American. A subscriber refers to Ian Rankin’s Black And Blue as “a Scottish ‘police procedural’” (29 January 1999), while another subscriber mentions that Some By Fire by Stuart Pawson “is almost a text-book example of the British-style ‘police procedural.’ The reader knows from the start who most of the key villains in the main crime are, but we get to watch how Charlie and his team gather the information and put together the pieces” (19 April 1999). The element of tradition, and most often the English tradition, is mentioned in 19 (24.1%) of the 79 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘police procedural.’

199

Technique in the ‘Private Investigator’

Of 130 postings mentioning the ‘private investigator,’ there are 80 which also mention technique which amounts to 61.5% .

One of the most important characteristics mentioned by subscribers to DorothyL is the plot. Subscriber references are numerous. In Dogsbody, Inc. by L. L. Thrasher, the “story line is filled with twists that logically spin together in a wonderful tale” (18 March 1999) and in Butcher’s Hill by Laura Lippman there is “a plot that has many surprises along the way”

(11 March 1999). On the contrary, in Deadbeat by Wendi Lee “the story line is more subdued” (5 March 1999) and in The Good Daughter by Wendi Lee “There were a few holes in the plot” (31 March 1999). The characteristic of the plot appears in 24 (30%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

Another characteristic that receives some attention from subscribers to DorothyL is that of humour. Sandra Scoppettone’s series features Lauren Laurano “a P.I. with a … great sense of humor” (18 may 1999). Similarly, Virtual Memories by Natalie Buske Thomas would be a good read for “people who like humorous and fun mystery stories” (10 May 200

1999), according to another subscriber. The characteristic of humour appears in only 4 (5%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

Posters to DorothyL identify also the ‘who-done-it.’ This characterises The Cracked

Earth, for instance, which is “a great” one (13 January 1999) or Les Roberts’ P.I. series which is so successful that “I never figure out whodunnit before the ending” (13 January

1999). The characteristic of the ‘who-done-it’ appears in 6 (7.5%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

The element of fun and lightheartedness appears occasionally in the postings about

‘private investigator’ books. Dana Stabenow’s Breakup is “an entertaining book” (13 March

1999), Murder Can Singe Your Old Flame by Selma Eichler is “an enjoyable entry in a lighthearted series” (31 March 1999) and Virtual Memories by Natalie Buske Thomas “was a fun, easy read” (10 May 1999). The characteristic of fun and lightheartedness appears in 9

(11.3%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

The characteristic of immediacy is quite strong in the postings talking about ‘private investigator’ books. Vampire Bytes by Linda Grant, as a subscriber suggests, “kept me guessing ... I was in such suspense!” (16 March 1999), and The Missing Eden by Wendi Lee

“is richer, more textured and much more personal. My emotions were engaged in this book and I cared very much whether Angie would succeed or not” (31 March 1999), according to another subscriber. The characteristic of immediacy appears in 27 (33.8%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

201

Some attention in the postings to DorothyL is given to the narrative mode. Speaking about Deadbeat by Wendi Lee a subscriber says that “too much of the novel is spent touring the city through Angela’s eyes” (5 March 1999) while in Vampire Bytes by Linda Grant “it often seems that point of view shifts … serve to diffuse suspense- not so here!” (16 March

1999). The narrative mode is mentioned in 7 (8.8%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

Hardness also appears as an important characteristic in the comments of DorothyL subscribers in relation to the ‘private investigator.’ Dogsbody, Inc. by L. L. Thrasher is, a subscriber suggests, for “Readers who enjoy a compassionate but tough detective story” (18

March 1999) while “Dennis Lehane clearly proves that he sits at the apex of the modern urban Noir. His current novel, Prayers For Rain, is a superb, but frightening tale that turns justice on its head” (22 May 1999). The characteristic of hardness appears in 10 (12.5%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

Another characteristic that has been referred to by posters speaking about other subgenres of detective fiction is that of conventions and whether a book follows the tradition of a particular genre or whether it falls within the English, American, Australian or other kind of tradition of crime writing. A subscriber refers to a book falling in the latter tradition. The

Life AndCrimes Of Harry Lavender is a “really excellent introduction to Australian crime writing” (24 March 1999). In Murder OnThe Barbary Coast by Kate Bryan “Fans of the sub- genre will attain much pleasure from the Americana sleuthing series” (30 April 1999). The characteristic of traditionality appears in 4 (5%) of the 80 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘private investigator.’

202

Technique in the ‘Thriller’

Of 98 postings mentioning the ‘thriller,’ there are 75 which also mention technique, which amounts to 76.5% as is shown in the chart below:

Considerations of plot constantly inform the postings of the subscribers to DorothyL.

In Barbara Parker‘s Suspicion Of Betrayal, “the story line comes at the reader from three different but integrated levels. ...All three roll together into a well designed plot” (11 March

1999) while, in Mistaken Identity by Lisa Scottoline, “The story line never slows down as the legal case and the accompanying investigation are filled up by a taut tale of non-stop action.

The secondary plot involving Alice’s alleged relationship to Bennie augments the prime tale with an intriguing personal drama” (2 March 1999). Plot appears as a characteristic element of the technique of the ‘thriller’ in 47 (62.7%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

The narrative mode is also mentioned. A subscriber says that in The Statement by

Brian Moore, “Chapters have alternate points of view, including those of the hunter, the hunted, and the not-so-innocent bystander” (10 January 1999). Another subscriber complains 203 that in The Stalking Of Sheilah Quinn by Jeremiah Healy “the multiple POVs distanced me from the character, and those from the POV of the stalker just didn't interest me at all” (25

April 1999). The point of view of the narration appears in 4 (5.3%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Immediacy is mentioned in postings like the one talking about Burnout by Jeanine

Kadow. This “is a complex, multi-layered psychological ‘thriller’ that derives its pleasure by forcing the reader to strip one piece at a time as if boxes were inside boxes” (5 March 1999).

On the contrary, in God Is A Bullet by Boston Teran, “The characters, including Bob, never fully develop, leaving readers with no one to care for as the various sides become difficult to delineate from one another” (19 March 1999). Immediacy appears in 28 (37.3%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

A further characteristic mentioned by the posters to DorothyL is that of the element of

‘who-done-it.’ In Hart’s War by John Katzenbach, a subscriber mentions that “You don’t know who did it and all the answers until the last chapter” (9 May 1999). Similarly, while

The Breaker by Minette Walters “is a taut psychological ‘thriller’ that will leave readers guessing the identity of the killer until the very end of the novel” (16 May 1999). The element of ‘who-done-it’ appears in 4 (5.3%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Posters mention believability too, either in relation to whether the plot elements seem plausible or in relation to the denouement. In Harmful Intent by Baine Kerr, “Peter is an 204 excellent individual, whose transformation from self loathing idiot to a modern day Clarence

Darrow is handled with dexterity and believability” (15 March 1999). Every Trace by Gregg

Main “was just the right length allowing the author to sustain the suspense” however “It is slightly flawed in that belief must be suspended at times” (22 April 1999). Believability appears in 7 (9.3%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Hardness is mentioned in relation to books like God Is A Bullet which “is clearly for those readers who believe that the referee must never stop a boxing match regardless of the beating” (19 March 1999). Posters also document hardness in relation to diction. In The

Usual Suspects “the F-word pops up so much that I always warn prospective viewers about it.

...Foul language has achieved such universally common usage in current literature that I find myself purposely avoiding it in my own fiction. Maybe someday the ‘big writers’ might reach the same conclusion” (21 April 1999), another subscriber comments. The characteristic of toughness appears in 8 (10.7%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the

‘thriller.’

Subscribers refer to humour less often in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Exceptions are postings about Mistaken Identity, evident of Lisa Scottoline’s “characteristic style and humor” (29 March 1999), or about Suspicion by Barbara Rogan, a book in which “Almost the only real humor comes strangely enough in the climatic scene” (20 May 1999). The characteristic of humour appears in 3 (4%) of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Similarly, tradition receives very little attention. One poster says that The Death Of A

Constant Lover by Lev Raphael is “an English, psychological, genealogical ‘thriller’” (12

May 1999). This is the only mention of tradition in the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller’ thus rendering a very low percentage, 1.3%. 205

Accuracy is also rarely mentioned. The Statement by Brian Moore, one of the subscribers says is “Vividly told and fact-based” (10 January 1999). This is again the only mention of accuracy and amounts to 1.3% of the 75 postings mentioning technique in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Technique in the Overall ‘Cosy’ & ‘Hardboiled’ Categories

The next step in the analysis of the subgenres of detective fiction in relation to the technique is to turn to the overall categories of the ‘hardboiled’ and the ‘cosy.’ The ‘cosy’ category, as already mentioned, counts 345 postings which refer to the simple ‘cosy’ or the

‘historical cosy’ or both. Technique, as already mentioned, appears in 154 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 92 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There is a degree of overlap of 19 postings, so the final number of postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category of 345 postings is 227, that is 65.8%. The overall ‘hardboiled’ category counts 391 postings referring to either the ‘hardboiled’ or the ‘police procedural’ or the ‘private investigator’ or the thriller or finally to a combination of any of them.

Technique is mentioned in 68 postings that also mention the ‘hardboiled,’ in 79 postings mentioning the ‘police procedural,’ in 80 postings mentioning the ‘private investigator’ and finally in 75 postings mentioning the ‘thriller.’ Taken together, all these postings amount to

302 but there is a degree of overlap of 27 postings, so the resultant number of postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 275, that is 70.3% of the 391 postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ category. It appears, then, that the writer’s technique is very significant for DorothyL subscribers, no matter what category they are discussing.

The plot is one of the most prominent characteristic of technique. It appears 46 times in the postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and 38 times in the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is an overlap of 3 cases, so the final number of this characteristic in the postings 206 is 81. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, the percentage is 35.7%. There are 17 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the

‘hardboiled,’ 49 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 24 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 47 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together, these postings amount to

137 but there is a degree of overlap of 11 postings. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 126. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, the percentage becomes 45.8%. Plot is, thus, significant for both categories, slightly more significant for the ‘hardboiled’ category.

Another characteristic mentioned by the subscribers to DorothyL is that of humour.

This characteristic appears in 27 of the postings referring to the ‘cosy’ and in 3 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ Since there is no degree of overlap for this characteristic, the resultant number of postings where this characteristic appears in is 30, which amounts to 13.2% of the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category. There are no postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’

1 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 4 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 3 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 8 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, the percentage is 2.9%. Humour, thus, seems to be primarily a characteristic of the

‘cosy’ for DorothyL subscribers.

The point of view of the narration appears in 6 of the postings referring to the simple

‘cosy’ and in 2 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is again no degree of overlap so the final number of postings mentioning the characteristic of the point of view of the narration is 8. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, the percentage is 3.5%. However, narrative point of view attracts more attention in 207 postings concerning the ‘hardboiled’ category. There are 2 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 7 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 7 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 4 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 20 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, this amounts to 7.3%, twice as high as for the ‘cosy’ but still not a very important characteristic.

A more frequently mentioned characteristic is that of believability. This characteristic appears in 20 of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ and in 6 of the postings referring to the

‘historical cosy.’ Since no degree of overlap is involved, the total count of postings mentioning this characteristic is 26. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this amounts to 11.5%. There are no postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 12 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ none in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 7 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 19 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, this amounts to 6.9%, less than for the ‘cosy,’ but not much less.

The characteristic of ‘who-done-it’ is stronger in the preferences of DorothyL subscribers. It appears in 17 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and in 15 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There is one posting that is an overlap, so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 31. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this comes to13.7%. There are no postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 13 in relation to the

‘police procedural,’ 6 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 4 in relation to the ‘thriller.’

Taken together these postings amount to 23 and there is no degree of overlap. So the final 208 number of 23 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category translates into 8.4%.

A characteristic that seems to be very important for the ‘cosy’ category is that of enjoyment or ‘lightheartedness.’ This characteristic appears in 46 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and in 11 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There are 5 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to both subgenres, so once this is subtracted, what is left is 52 postings making reference to the characteristic of enjoyable reading. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this is a percentage of 22.9%. Being fun to read is not felt as very characteristic of the

‘hardboiled’ category. There are 6 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the

‘hardboiled,’ 8 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 9 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and none in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 23 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall

‘hardboiled’ category, this gives 8.4%.

The element of tradition or convention is another characteristic that appears in some of the postings of DorothyL subscribers. More specifically, it is found in 19 of the postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and in 2 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no degree of overlap so the resultant number of postings mentioning the tradition of the genre is 21. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this amounts to 9.3%. There are 8 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 19 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 4 in relation to the

‘private investigator,’ and 1 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 32 and there is no degree of overlap. In relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘hardboiled’ category, this amounts to 11.6%. This, then, is a characteristic about equally important for both the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled’ genres. 209

The characteristic of immediacy appears in 6 of the postings mentioning the simple

‘cosy’ and in 14 of the postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no degree of overlap so the overall number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 20. In relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this is 8.8%. It is felt to be much more significant for the ‘hardboiled’ category. There are 7 postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 22 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 27 in relation to the ‘private investigator,’ and 28 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together these postings amount to 84 but there is a degree of overlap of 3 postings. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 81,

29.5% of the postings mentioning technique in the ‘hardboiled’ category, more than three times higher than for the ‘cosy.’

The final characteristic that subscribers to DorothyL mention when talking about either the simple ‘cosy’ or the ‘historical cosy’ is that of accuracy. This characteristic is mentioned in 6 of the postings referring to the simple ‘cosy’ and in 15 of the postings referring to the ‘historical cosy.’ There is no degree of overlap so the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic is 21. Seen in relation to the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category, this is 9.3%. The characteristic of accuracy appears in only 3 of the postings referring to the ‘hardboiled,’ in 1 of the postings mentioning the

‘police procedural,’ in none of the postings mentioning a ‘private investigator,’ and finally in

1 of the postings mentioning the ‘thriller.’ The total is 5 postings with no degree of overlap.

Statistically and in relation to the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall

‘hardboiled’ category, the percentage is 1.8%. Accuracy thus appears to be much more important for readers of the ‘cosy,’ in particular the ‘historical cosy.’

Another characteristic that subscribers to DorothyL relate to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is that of the hardness. There are 35 postings mentioning this characteristic in 210 relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ 7 in relation to the ‘police procedural,’ 10 in relation to the

‘private investigator,’ and 8 in relation to the ‘thriller.’ Taken together, these postings amount to 60 but there is a degree of overlap of 4 postings. So the final number of postings mentioning this characteristic in relation to the overall ‘hardboiled’ category is 56 and the resultant percentage is 20.4% of the 275 postings mentioning technique in the overall

‘hardboiled’ category. Hardness is not mentioned at all in relation to the ‘cosy.’

A final aspect of technique which does not have a very strong place in the postings of subscribers to DorothyL is that of predictability. This characteristic has appeared in only 3 postings mentioning the simple ‘cosy’ and in no postings mentioning the ‘historical cosy.’

This amounts to only 1.3% of the 227 postings mentioning technique in the overall ‘cosy’ category.

All in all, then, one of the main characteristics that define the two categories is that of plot which, despite being one of the characteristics with the highest percentages for both categories, rates higher in the ‘hardboiled’ than in the ‘cosy’ by 10,1%. Believability and the

‘who-done-it’ element, on the other hand, are more important in the ‘cosy’: believability in the ‘cosy’ appears in 11.5% of the postings and in 6.9% of the postings for the ‘hardboiled’ and the characteristic of ‘who-done-it’ appears in equally low percentages: 13.7% for the

‘cosy’ and 8.4% for the ‘hardboiled.’ The issue of the traditional or conventional elements of each subgenre concerns readers about equally in the case of the ‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled’: tradition appears in 9.3% in relation to the ‘cosy’ and 11.6% to the ‘hardboiled.’ The narrative mode is not very significant for either category, though more for the ‘hardboiled’

(7.3% as opposed to 3.5% for the ‘cosy’). The clearest oppositions between the two categories seem to lie in the area of how they engage their respective readers. Humour and reading pleasure (‘lightheartedness’) are important for readers of the ‘cosy’ (13.2% and

22.9% of the postings for the ‘cosy’ as opposed to 2.9% and 8.4% for the ‘hardboiled’). The 211 corresponding qualities that are commented on in the ‘hardboiled’ are immediacy and toughness or ‘hardness’ (29.5% and 20.4%. as opposed to 8.8% and no mention at all for the

‘cosy’). Accuracy, on the other hand, concerns mainly readers of the ‘cosy’ and primarily the

‘historical cosy’ (9.3% as opposed to only 1.8% for the ‘hardboiled’). 212

Chapter Six

The Readers and the Critics

Comparison of statements made at different periods frequently enable us to give maximal and minimal dates to the appearance of a cultural element... Edward Sapir, The Collected Works of Edward Sapir

The comparison between readers of detective fiction and critics will help generate some important sociological information about the former. Juxtaposing reader preferences and critical perspectives, including Kelly’s Mystery Fiction and Modern Life which is the only other study of DorothyL, I can safely conclude that both formulate their discursive schemas around the same main issues, namely, the sleuth, social context, setting, time, and, finally, technique. These are privileged by the posters in their discussions on DorothyL, but these are also the salient issues that, at various stages of detective fiction criticism, and with accenting variety, have been put forward to sustain, or challenge theoretical schemas, thinking mentalities, and social practices or, more rarely, to refute detective fiction’s instrumentality in such issues.

Another considerable observation is the fact that posters and critics tend to use the same categories when discussing their preferences. The distinction between ‘cosy’ and

‘hardboiled,’ the former also accommodating the ‘historical cosy’ and the latter the ‘noir,’ the

‘police procedural,’ the ‘private investigator’ and the ‘thriller,’ is a qualification that characterises the discussions of both critics and posters. Similarly, both identify instances of cross-over. Notably, however, critics tend to focus on another subgenre of detective fiction or a new genre designated as ‘crime fiction’ which they take to be more interested in the delineation of the social dimension and personality of the sleuth to such an extent that the mystery takes second role, or is even pushed out of the picture. Posters, however, do not seem much interested in this new genre. Instead, they rest content with the proportionate 213 dose of realistic depiction of sleuths and contexts. This is enough to engage them in a book for as long as necessary to solve the puzzle, which cannot be dismissed altogether from the constitution of their fiction. Other than that, both critics and posters are inclined to use the same categories usually formulated as binary opposites as in ‘amateur’ and ‘professional,’ or

‘intimate’ and ‘non-intimate’ social context, or ‘rural’ and ‘urban’ setting, or ‘English’ and

‘American,’ or even in terms of technique ‘violent’ and ‘non-violent’ or ‘lighthearted,’ to name just a few.

It appears, then, that readers show some knowledge of what critics say about detective fiction despite the fact that, normally, they do not openly or extensively refer to phases of criticism or critic’s names with the exception of Ronald Knox’s rules. This informed knowledge, however, renders their discussions or even their simple description of detective stories more sophisticated, as they are an intellectual and bookish lot, which allows them to formulate likes and dislikes along the lines indicated earlier. There is, then, broadly speaking, a consensus between readers of detective fiction and critics suggesting that such formulaic literature characterised by an inception deemed as merely escapist and thus low- brow, is a worthy past-time for the educated, not only for the addicted aficionados who sneer at high-brow culture and feel embarrassed of the low-brow literature they read. In a sense, the relaxation of the boundary between the two extremes in terms of sociological significance is validated, and detective fiction is salvaged from dismissive simplifications that have tended to qualify it is worthless literature.

The Sleuth

For early criticism on detective fiction, the delineation of the sleuth’s personality does not merit attention. At the time, the sleuth is merely reduced to a problem-solving apparatus.

For instance, Charles J. Rzepka discussing Grella’s conception of detective fiction as a 214 manifestation of the comedy of manners, suggests that in early and classical detective fiction

“characters tend to conform to recognizable comedy types, and their personalities are little more than temperaments” (180). Britta Martens, echoing earlier critics such as Hühn, explains that in those stories “the narrative usually gives no direct access to the detective’s consciousness. It is sometimes focalized through the detective’s less brilliant confidant, the

“Doctor Watson” figure, with whose inferior level of knowledge readers may identify” (252)

At best, for early criticism sleuths typify a new version of “the mythical hero in a new relation between masculine and feminine structures of consciousness” (127), thus providing a new model of “implacable male heroism” (118), as Susan Rowland suggests. But this is as far as writers go and as far as earlier and more contemporary critics talking about early detective fiction care to identify. It is not until the rise of social forces demanding egalitarian treatment in the 1970s, the time when “there is a consciously articulated response to social change by women writers who challenge the sexist assumptions of hero formation apparently required by the formulaic demands of this fiction” (Rowland 5), that the constitution of the sleuth’s character and social status is tampered with and, thus, sleuths are brought down to more human dimensions, with flaws and vices which befit a normal life. This also contests

Chernaik’s assertion that “the moral legitimacy of the detective figure is never in doubt”

(104) because the detective often transgresses too, but his transgressions serve to maintain order. This has been a trend that, in later detective-fiction criticism, evolved into demand, thus also discrediting the ‘hardboiled’ tough guy or girl depiction in favour of a more down- to-earth and commonplace sleuth image, an image more capable of accommodating niche fiction preferences. In both later criticism and poster conceptions, then, the sleuth is seen as a more accessible person and, in fact, “The reader is encouraged to identify with the detective and to share the detective’s worldview” (Young 83). For instance, “The lesbian detective novel is a study in how cultural and political shifts emerge in literary representation” (A. 215

Wilson 251). Wilson further elaborates, “[i]n 1984, when the lesbian detective first emerged to do battle on fictive mean streets, the lesbian reader might well have perceived her own environment as increasingly hostile” (252).

For the posters, the sketching of a full-blown personality with a real life is decisive.

The depiction of the sleuth does not vary significantly in the two main categories. As far as the ‘cosy’-category sleuth is concerned, one may notice that the sleuth is seen as a hero who becomes the agent of the resolution of crime, much like the eiron in Northrop Frye’s myth criticism who induces resolution in a comedy or the catastrophe in tragedy. In the ‘cosy’ category, the sleuth is likely to be living an unobtrusive existence very much like the eiron in myth criticism until the need appears, whether by accident or due to personal involvement in the case, to exercise their ratiocinative powers. It is precisely this obscurity of existence which allows ‘cosy’-category sleuths to operate under wraps and gives a slightly higher percentage in the preferences of the posters for female sleuths in the ‘cosy’ rather than in the

‘hardboiled.’ This is what Mrs Marple eloquently expresses in Agatha Christie’s Invitation to

Murder when commenting on her age and gender and the advantage these characteristics give her as they allow her to operate subtly. Thus, ‘cosy’-category sleuths are more likely to be young women, more often middle aged or even old women, whose knitting and quilt-making are decoys meant to divert attention from their sleuthing practices.

Critics like Craig and Cadogan in The Lady Investigates: Women Detectives and

Spies in Fiction have also remarked that English detectives, that is, ‘cosy’ detectives, are older than U.S. detectives, in other words, ‘hardboiled’ detectives. Even when the sleuth is a teenager like Nancy Drew, critics like Nickerson in “Murder as Social Criticism” suggest that regardless of all eccentricities and intelligence, still she “actually does little to challenge the status quo, claiming with special vivacity the privileges of wealth and whiteness” or due to the fact that she “always needs to be rescued from her kidnappers by her father or her ‘lame- 216 brain’ boyfriend” (750). In short, for critics “the detective story [functions] as a vehicle for demonstrating some of the ways in which society murders and maims women” as Heilbrun has remarked (96)” (750-751). In fact, her only achievement is her very presence, the presence of a female sleuth in an American male-dominated genre. Moreover, stereotypical characteristics like nosiness which is often attributed to old ladies in particular may also be dismissed as female curiosity instead of being perceived as a cloak for sleuthing. However, feminist critics of detective fiction like Klein in The Woman Detective: Gender & Genre stress that the introduction of the female sleuth should not serve the perceptive schemas of male domination in detective fiction but instead be appropriated to narrate the female experience. Sandra Tome in “Questing Women: The Feminist Mystery after Feminism” believes “that the hard-boiled convention’s sense of confinement and the sense of being always subject to another’s gaze is easily appropriated to woman’s experience, and the individualist response of the female protagonist provides this fictional form with a way of interrogating a past generation’s feminism’s concentration on liberation and escape” (Paradis

99).

Posters, however, see ‘cosy’-category detective fiction stories accommodating slightly more women than men, indicating that the female mentality and world experience becomes more prominent in such books and is of great interest. Thus, gender may be seen to regulate some poster preferences. Other marginalised individuals, whose colour, race,43 age, or status traditionally did not allow them to voice their opinions and distress about their condition, may also be favoured by posters for the role of the sleuth. Posters, then, are more

43 According to Bailey, race mythologies are part of the larger Euro-American mythology that perceived “indigenous and other immigrant populations-‘Indians’ blacks, Mexicans, and later Chinese,-as the ‘shape of the Devil,’” the “manifest destiny” of the Europeans and their Christian fervor led them to solidify two themes-, “the savagery and sexuality of non-whites” that were perceived to be inferior to Europeans and since the “hero or heroine must be able to probe into the lives of the people involved in the criminal event. . . psychological and physical boundaries” prevented African American access (xii).

217 receptive to ‘cosy’ detective fiction featuring not only women but other less traditional sleuths.

For posters, nevertheless, ‘cosy’ sleuths are not mere unbiased observers, with no personal life but also participants in the life of the world they enter. In fact, it is a prime concern for posters that sleuths are developed personalities with a real life, real worries, real relationships and real problems although such considerations should not overshadow the mystery itself. Kelly argues, “Engagement with character is central to the reading experience for these readers. They expect fictional characters to be realistic (or believable, recognizable, individualized), but ….[they] must also be likeable” (172). Posters appear to have the same demand for ‘hardboiled’ sleuths as they agree that the sleuth should not be considered as a pawn whose existence is exhausted in ensuring resolution and restoration of order but should be seen in a sociological light as having familial ties, a full-blown personality and a personal history very much like in the ‘cosy.’

Within such a thinking framework, the portrayal of female sleuths in relation to marital status is often seen by critics as anti-feminist because, occasionally, they aretreated as complements to their detective husbands. For critics like Klein woman and detective were not associated until the 1970s, since until then detective fiction had followed the customary literary subordination of the female perspective and position (2). For the posters, the detective’s wife as a sleuthing partner betrays a tendency to test the extent to which the sexist framing, evident in the formulaic boundaries and the conventional representation of women, may and should be challenged. This testing, according to critics like Paradis, was facilitated in the ‘hardboiled’ subgenre because the latter harboured the fear of the gaze, of being constantly watched. Thus, the ‘hardboiled’ female protagonist, appropriating this preoccupation, succeeds in questioning the feminist propensity for breaking traditional restraints. Posters agree with this view as is evident in the fact that marital status is relatively 218 important and the fact that although ‘hardboiled’ female sleuths are somewhat fewer than male ‘hardboiled’ sleuths, still the transition from the initial male dominated detective fiction world to a world which has room for women detectives too is important.

Posters to DorothyL agree with critics of the third phase of detective-fiction criticism and the propositions44 that have been put forward since, which revolve around a necessity for historicity to traverse fiction. Criticism after the 1970s, evident in the work of, for instance,

Pepper in The Contemporary American Crime Novel: Race, Ethnicity, Gender, Class, ascribes importance to feminist, racial, class, and gender concerns, which betrays the interest in how ideological supremacy is achieved. Pepper explains that

by locating difference as the product of historically and culturally specific

relations of domination and subordination, and by exploring the way in which

other modalities of exclusion, based on gender, class, ethnicity, locality

intersect with race to successfully contest white hegemonic ambitions, these

writers reveal not only the instability and fluidity of the dominant culture but

also the degree to which different communities and individuals are

increasingly bound to one another in a myriad of complex relationships. (64)

The identification of gender and genre by certain theorists who suggest that female writers are restricted by male narrative structures suggests for critics that women cannot write fiction enjoyed by men and vice versa because their life experiences are entirely different. Feminist critics focus on the conservatism of the genre and stress that feminist writers resort to writing with a view to rendering the detective-fiction canon more relative to their female experience.

In short, because they wish to infuse the genre with investigative practices more akin to their own perception of the world. The abundance of female sleuths testifies to the fact that women can utilise the medium of ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction to generate pleasure but also

44 A notable exception is the postmodernist trend which posters do not privilege, as evident in the discussion so far. 219 to narrate their own experience, and this is welcome for posters. However interesting such observations, posters do not qualify their ‘hardboiled’ sleuths in terms of gender, age, marital status, race or even health to a markedly higher degree than in the ‘cosy,’ but they do perceive the sleuth to be more tarnished, thus embodying the modern man or woman.

Psychoanalytic critics such as Reeva S. Simon in The Middle East in Crime Fiction:

Mysteries, Spy Novels and Thrillers from 1916 to the 1980s, following a long trend dating back to the first phase of detective-fiction criticism, stress that readers enjoy detective fiction because it provides them with a chance to identify with the hero as the latter fights a villain who summarises the reader’s fears. Other critics like J. Kenneth Van Dover in You Know My

Method: The Science of the Detective suggest:“This popularity … can be tied to the rise of scientific and technological — in short, methodological —understanding of the world in the nineteenth century and to the rise of an accompanying anxiety that this understanding might not be entirely progressive or humane. The scientific method made the fictional detective possible and it made him popular” (10). Some critics, Marie F. Rodell in Mystery Fiction:

Theory and Technique included, also attribute the popularity of detective fiction to the fact that “the mystery novel offers its readers a very specific form of escape and satisfaction. The impulse to hurt or destroy what we do not like, or which frustrates us” (6). Finally, critics like Geraldine Pederson-Krag, Cawelti, Raskin and Žižek among others,

trace the source of pleasure derived from reading detective fiction in the

intersubjective dimension of the murder, more properly, of the corpse. The

corpse as object works to bind a group of individuals together: the corpse

constitutes them as a group (a group of suspects), it brings and keeps them

together through their shared feeling of guilt—any one of them could have

been the murderer, each had motive and opportunity. The role of the detective

is, again, precisely to resolve the impasse of this universalized, free-floating 220

guilt by localizing it in a single subject and thus exculpating all others. (Žižek

59)

Thus, avid reading of transgressive literature, literature that constitutes a “symbolic inversion…which presents an alternative to commonly held cultural codes” (Stallybrass 14) is seen by Rushing as a rebellious act against the status quo; indulging in reading and vicariously experiencing evil instead of resorting to more sophisticated literature to combat their debasement, readers appear to defy high brow culture and the powers that be. Thus,

“transgression shifts from being the object of detection to the very subject of the narrative”

(Chute 42). Finally, readers, perceived as perplexed by their everyday experience and confounded with anxiety about connundrums they cannot tackle, are believed to read detective fiction in an effort to induce resolution of conflicts even on a literary level. Posters do not appear to focus on these aspects, however, although they believe that for both ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ it is necessary to engage the reader in the process of solving a case, thus obliquely expressing the necessity of identifying with the sleuth for this to happen.

On the other hand, posters to DorothyL report that they read for a variety of reasons.

They enjoy the ratiocinative exercise provided by a good puzzle and the game of deciphering red herrings and navigating through sub-stories and subplots, but they also read to find out about favourite characters and their adventures. Moreover, they read for setting and time because they appear excited about being vicariously transferred to other locales, or times.

They are inclined to like such fiction because it might familiarise them with various police procedures, for instance, or alternative mentalities in relation to crime but also instruct them in specialised fields of knowledge such as computing or cookery. In addition, they stress that they read to relax themselves from the everyday hustle and bustle, which is greatly facilitated by all the above characteristics that they find in their fiction. Finally, they read because they feel that their personal condition is respected and, thus, portrayed in fiction. The opening up 221 of the field to include all kinds of sleuths and characteristics sustains interest in the genre at the same time hooking the reader who wishes to feel triumphant against the hardships of life, even if only vicariously.

Critics like Raskin in “The Pleasures and Politics of Detective Fiction” suggest that in order for the reader to identify with the sleuth the latter should demonstrate a series of characteristics that would allow the reader to admire or unconsciously wish to be the sleuth.

However, there are instances when even the sleuth is seen as a criminal. Quite often the sleuth is portrayed as an aesthete or an anarchist, as Caillois suggests or as Pyrhönen claims: the sleuth is “placed between official purveyors of justice and those who violate that justice,” investigators being characteristic examples (Mayhem and Murder 19). This discloses a distancing from the actual murder and the pathos therein, which could be regarded as equally malicious and destructive for the sleuths. Thus, crime is not seen as a deed perpetrated by professional killers or institutions but as the result of everyone’s indifference to the dealings of the world. To exemplify, private investigators employ both legal and illegal methods to catch criminals which renders them ethically suspect in the eyes of the readers. Jameson focuses on professional and institutional crime but locates maliciousness also in the individual which extends to the sleuth and necessitates an examination of his or her moral code. Whether the sleuth takes on the role of the judge or the avenger he is seen by

Jameson to personify the frontier code which manifests in a mentality that privileges and depends on individual agency, self-dependence and male power and endurance. Posters, as already mentioned, seem to find it necessary to identify with the sleuth. They, thus, demand of the latter to be realistic and display a full-blown personality and life so that the reader can identify, and this is a demand for both ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled.’

222

The Social Context

The demand for ideological tautology between readers and sleuths also explains the importance attributed to social context as inherently indispensable in the process of engaging the reader by providing the coordinates in which the sleuth operates. Despite being of paramount importance to posters, social context has not been a stable quality for critics.

Early critics noticed the introduction of other characters to the extent that they could function as red herrings or assistants in the sleuthing process but dismissed them as social entities that can cater for a fully delineated social environment. “Many characters exist solely to provide what they know to the detective” but “the second function of providing misinformation or red herrings often crosses the first” (Bargainnier 131). As Benjamin puts it, “The original social content of the detective story was the obliteration of the individual’s traces in the big city- crowd” (Charles Baudailere 48). Similarly, in the second phase of detective fiction criticism, the quest for the overall structure subsumes social context and commentary.

The social context is important in both main categories of detective fiction for posters too. The social milieu in the ‘cosy’ may be perceived as a society of alazons, as myth criticism may have delineated it, because it is full of deceiving or self-deceived characters who blindly believe in the triumph of good powers and that the disruption induced by the criminal act is only fleeting. According to Munt, “In the hard-boiled school, the alazonic society is more corrupt and dangerous, crime is no longer localized or potentially controllable. In the formal school, the eiron attacks the alazon using wit” and thus is able to guarantee order (194). Posters agree with myth criticism in this respect since they are keen on the restoration of order in the ‘cosy’ they are reading, finding assurance in the fact that they can vicariously read about a society where crime does not prevail, but is only an aberration. 223

Feminist criticism like that proffered by Klein elaborates on the issue of criminality suggesting that the agent of criminality becomes the submissive parameter in the ‘cosy’ category since the initial usurpation of power through the criminal act is punished by the actual holder of power, the detective, who is responsible for and the only one capable of restoring order. Posters agree that the criminal is a very important parameter for both the

‘cosy’ and the ‘hardboiled’ categories. Posters also suggest that the culprit’s role in the detective story is very important and agree with critics in that it is highly formulaic: the murderer must be introduced from the beginning; in the ‘cosy’ the culprit even operates under the guise of a suspect, usually someone who appears trustworthy, such as a significant other or best friend which further fuels the conspiracy.

A corollary of this idea for psychoanalytic critics like Pederson-Krag is the fact that in detective fiction, in the ‘cosy’ in particular, the culprit is the scapegoat for a crime other than the one under examination but is, in fact, a resurging of the guilt associated with witnessing the primal scene and the symbolic murder of the parent for whom the child has negative feelings, which is relived in every detective story. In this sense, the detective story is a sadistic return to the primal scene. The detective story “satisfies the voyeurs who . . . gazed with strained attention at the scene of parental coitus” (Pederson-Krag 62). The guilt of the murderer is shared by many suspects, since any of them could have committed the crime as all of them had motive and a chance to act. Thus, the criminal is the communal scapegoat and functions as a repository of shared guilt, his or her predicament the fantasizing of punishment by others who are left secure and distanced from the abominable person. In the detective and the criminal, Aydelotte sees “the two principal political figures of totalitarianism,” (80) and proposes that detective fiction provides “disturbing evidence of psychological tensions, and of the prevalence in our modern western culture of elements of character-structure which do not provide adequate support for democratic institutions” (81). 224

Psychoanalytic critics are quite eloquent on this idea of aggression, but from another perspective: “In the complete knowledge of the crime, achieved by the detective, the ego may participate as either or both parents in the primal scene,” since knowledge may be the equivalent of either male or female sexuality (Pederson-Krag 63). This is a dimension scarcely touched upon by posters who simply consider the culprit an important parameter. In contrast, crime fiction urges readers to identify with the criminal through internal focalization, which promotes feelings of both sympathy and repulsion. This is also a parameter not particularly interesting for the posters since detective fiction, not crime fiction is their primary interest.

Feminist critics like Nickerson go as far as to suggest that the victim is always feminine or bearing feminine characteristics or having feminine status. The constant feminization of the victim points to the textual nature of concepts of identity in detective fiction, a textual nature which is seen to obey a linguistic code that classifies women as saints or whores, the latter being an obvious candidate for punishment (Ingham 25); thus the victim’s punishment mandatory.

The textuality of identity-formation is also a concern posters who seem, however, more inclined to side with critics like Bakerman and Reddy. The latter suggest that more contemporary work tends to overthrow the inescapability of such formulations. For many critics, “hardboiled conventions … are no longer necessarily dictated by the detective’s bravado, again undermining the machismo that typically identifies the hard-boiled trope as indicative of a masculine genre” (Effron 530). However, they agree that the role of the victim is of the same importance for both subgenres. The opening of detective fiction to accommodate marginalised voices, such as those of women, who had traditionally occupied the dominated position, may, however, betray a consensus between posters and critics.

Posters wish their sleuths to be from all walks of life so that all may find an empowered voice 225 akin to their own reflected in their fiction. In this sense, then, the most marginalised and subordinated voices, those of women, may be seen to flee the victim position for an empowered one.

What is also noteworthy is that readers of both ‘hardboiled’ and ‘cosy’ novels seem to appreciate developed secondary characters and attach importance to the personal relationships of the sleuth. Among Marxist critics, Heissenbüttel for instance, there is a perception of the relationships of the inhabitants of the place where the ‘cosy’ sleuth is called to investigate. Thus, the victim is seen as having some emotional, familial, and economic ties to the rest of the characters. In other words, the victim is not seen as an outcast who should be punished for horrible crimes but must die to ensure that the group remains intact since his or her aberration threatens the cohesion of the community. In fact, the victim is seen as a symbol for the cohesive constitution of the group which would be torn asunder had the victim not died. Thus, posters perceive the ‘cosy’ society to be secluded and consider the victim and their unfortunate fate as a personification of the group’s potential for survival which would have been endagered if the victim had not perished and continued to contaminate the community’s innocence.

In the ‘hardboiled,’ the villain is seen by critics like Frank Gruber in his work The

Pulp Jungle to have an entourage who can inflict great harm on the hero and whose main motive springs from hate and greed, thus, betraying a rather Marxist perception of criminality focusing on murders for economic motives.45 Posters, however, do not agree that the

‘hardboiled’ numbs the mind of its readership but believe that it sensitises them to such

45 Hammett sought to “stir things up” exasperated by the threat of “organized crime or gangs taking over an entire society and running it as if it were an ordinary society doing business as usual” (Marcus 204). The world of crime is reproduced in the respectable world and the Maltese Falcon “turns out to be and contains within itself the history of capitalism. It is originally a piece of plunder, part of what Marx called the ‘primitive accumulation’; when its gold encrusted with gems is painted over, it becomes a mystified object, a commodity itself. The falcon is a piece of property that belongs to no one- whoever possesses it does not really own it. At the same time it is another fiction, a representation or work of art-which turns out itself to be a fake, since it is made of lead. (205-206).

226 realities because it focuses on the depiction of the milieu and the place, and consequently exposes their shortcomings. Unlike the situation in the ‘cosy’ story in which “the problem always has a desirable and rational solution, for this is the underlying moral fantasy” (Cawelti

42-3), Marxist critics such as Steven Marcus, for instance, in “Dashiell Hammett” believe that to live existence as if it were ordered and instant resolution of conflict assured is naive because the world we live in is not ethical or rational and does not harbour small criminal aberrations only but organised crime aiming at establishing itself as the norm. Often then

“the genre offers the possibility of debunking the image of social harmony that is seen as key in managing the social problems embodied in the individual criminal” (Winston and

Mellerski 2).

Marxist critics see moral deviance in the ‘hardboiled’ detective novel manifest in deformity, otherness and physical excess all of which help to illustrate that in the ‘hardboiled’ the norm is threatened by not only organised crime but also by manifestations of the ‘other’ masquerading as economic disputes. “It is the very assumptions of criminality in the Other … that detective fiction complicates. Typed representations thus articulate the idea that transgression is defined by a network of texts” (Chute 43).

Another prominent concern is whether detective fiction should deal with the mores of the time, and offer a criticism, or at least commentary. Kelly proposes that readers who post to DorothyL expect that detective fiction might effect “a decisive shift in the way something is perceived” or even a “change in belief broadening or increasing one’s knowledge, for example” (175). Writers and critics are divided. Posters are less interested in explicit social commentary but are interested in commentary twice as much for the ‘cosy’ as for the

‘hardboiled.’ Kelly suggests that social commentary exists in the ‘cosy,’ though it does not feature prominently (171). As far as the ‘cosy’ is concerned, then, posters seem to agree with

Marxist criticism that social commentary is important and that ahistoricism should not be a 227 characteristic of fiction. In contrast, the ‘hardboiled’ is perceived by posters in a more structurally-oriented way, in the sense that they are only half as likely to appreciate

‘hardboiled’ detective fiction with social commentary. Thus, they seem to see the

‘hardboiled’ in terms more akin to Jameson’s less traditional or less formally- oriented

Marxism which perceives detective fiction as a form without ideological, political, social or philosophical aims distanced from the challenging of academicism that Marxist criticism instigated in the 1970s and the recourse to ideological struggles.

The concept of discourse introduced in the 1970s a shift from myth, allegory, and economic determinism to a political and discursive perspective in criticism. This has influenced posters in their perception of detective fiction but more so in their appreciation of

‘cosy’ detective fiction rather than ‘hardboiled.’ However, it should be noted that despite the fact that posters are keener on reading ‘hardboiled’ detective fiction with less explicit social commentary this does not mean that they want their fiction totally ahistorical. They simply dismiss as intrusive all efforts on the part of writers to explicitly repound political, social, ideological views in pieces which would slow down the plot. However, they appear sensitive to the issue of decontextualization, the decontextualization of law in particular because coupled with the realism they seek in detective fiction, it renders the operative law system self evident and leads not only to a perpetual endorsement of its sustaining status quo but also to the dismissal of all alternatives as diversions and thus abominable. Thus, when it comes to the ‘hardboiled,’ posters do not seem to agree with Marxist critics that the meaning of any individual function is dependent on the matrix as a whole, as is the case with the

‘thriller’ which draws its meaning from both the context of the ‘thriller’ and from its surrounding ideological matrix.

Some critics, Knight in Form and Ideology in Crime Fiction for instance, believe that form is important for detective fiction because it produces ideology through the 228 epistemological and ideological assumptions manifested in the formal way it presents its world and which permeate its whole structure and constituents. For example, the pervasive

“belief in the unity of society” and the fact that “organic metaphors are often used” (13) conceal for Knight a “contradiction that is passed over in silence” (15) because the apparent postulation “that the laws of England fall on all those who cause harm to the corporate social body, whatever their station may in life” is illusory (15). Navajo detective fiction, for instance, is seen as an attempt to question the legitimacy of dominant ideologies, thus, leading detective fiction from the upholding of suspense as the most important parameter to the newfound appreciation of social commentary. At the same time criticism like that provided by Todorov in his article “Typology of Detective Fiction” focuses on the tendency of detective fiction to host both subversive and more traditional ideological tenets such as misogynism as illustrated by Irwin in Unless the Threat of Death is Behind Them: Hard-

Boiled Fiction and Film Noir and femimism which is an area that both critics and posters agree on. Posters may also occasionally comment on the power of the treatment of social concerns at a micro level, but they do not agree with the notion that detective fiction as such places the reader with the dominant ideology. This is what renders the detective fiction stories niches able to accommodate all kinds of tastes. There are, however, posters who agree that detective fiction should not address social concerns but rest content with its role as a pleasant pastime totally unrelated to any actual problems the readers may be facing in everyday life. Thus, voicing a perception of detective fiction very close to Jameson’s perception, some posters suggest that they do not appreciate detective fiction that seeks to inculcate interest in social problems. Some posters occasionally agree with Marxist critics on the issue that detective fiction may be utilised to legitimate ideologies by rendering them as the only solution to a fabricated problem as Jerry Palmer has shown. However, such instances are very rare. 229

Critics like Porter believe that detective fiction, like all kinds of popular fiction, is characterised by transparency which is attributable to the transparency of certain devices that may be employed to provide a matrix upon which contemporary popular concerns may be delineated. Pyrhönen also explains that a “factor reinforcing the genre’s alignment with the socio-cultural status quo is formal: thanks to its code of realism, detective fiction offers itself to readers as a reflection of the world, its transparency resting on familiar patterns of cause and effect, of social relationships, and moral values. By reproducing what society takes to be reality … it does not contest habitual everyday standarts of perception and thinking” (48).

Posters are more likely to agree when it comes to ‘cosy’ detective fiction rather than

‘hardboiled.’ Posters appear to agree also with British cultural critics who suggest that detective fiction is not merely escapist literature but dramatises the modern condition. “The golden age novel,” as Rowland explains, “presents a self-referential social scene as a metonym for the wasteland of modernity” (122). In other words, posters do not appreciate fiction that bears no relation to the social milieu and its concerns but eagerly read fiction which stages the answer to the question how a medium may be associated to ideology, nationality, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, social class and how these have been appropriated to describe the human condition as well as to restrict humans. However, they do so more eagerly in reading a ‘cosy’ story rather than a ‘hardboiled.’

Some psychoanalytic critics like Pederson-Krag believe that the pleasure in reading detective fiction is grounded not in the existence of structural elements which are constant according to structuralist theory but in the readers’ psychology in relation to the first voyeuristic witnessing of the primal scene which detective fiction restages with every single story. It is this scene that readers scour for graphic clues despite the fact that writers decline to vividly delineate it. Within this schema, psychoanalytic critics refer to the assistant of the detective as an alternate ego to protect the detective from the superego’s pangs of guilt since 230 the latter is seeking to relive the primal scene. It is noteworthy that posters comment on the assistant three times more in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ than in relation to the ‘cosy.’

Moreover, posters comment on boyfriends or girlfriends, friends and professional partners with a slightly higher percentage for the ‘hardboiled’ category. Critics also see detective fiction’s main constituents in this schema, that is the transgressor, the guilty bystander, the falsely accused, and the victim as elements facilitating the revelation of the parameters of guilt. This leads to further disintegration of the concept of resolution of crime and assurance of safety by allowing various criminal mirror images to surface. Besides the traditional scapegoat, the criminal, singled out from the rest of the community and punished in the

‘cosy’ in particular, a plethora of characters are seen to share guilt. The fact that posters appear to agree that certain social categories are important for the ‘hardboiled’ rather than the

‘cosy,’ may entail that the ‘hardboiled’ is more grounded on historicity than the ‘cosy’ and, thus, through the interpersonal relationships the sleuth forms with other characters allows for a more equal distribution of guilt; though, it does not discount the individual per se as the source of evil in favour of blaming institutionalised crime. In this sense, the ‘hardboiled’ is more likely to be considered a battleground of various evil minds which may extend even to one’s significant other: the female is seen as a femme fatale and treated as a hindrance to the extent that one needs to perform one’s duties unencumbered by other considerations, thus disclosing the conflict between personal and professional realms. By contrast, the British counterpart of a female sleuth of the interwar period is an elderly lady, unassuming, amateur lady who is accidentaly found in a sleuthing adventure (Kungl 12).

Setting and Time

Posters are more likely to define time in their comments in relation to the ‘cosy’ category than in relation to the ‘hardboiled.’ The setting is also a very important category for 231 critics, and posters tend to agree because they refer to it in almost half of the postings mentioning the ‘cosy’ category and in one-third of the postings mentioning the ‘hardboiled’ category.

The setting, which is one of the first characteristics that posters identify, is also important for critics since the continuum between rural and urban has been seen to broadly structure the field of detective fiction along the lines of ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ qualities.

Chesterton suggests that detective fiction “is the earliest and only form of popular literature in which is expressed some sense of the poetry of modern life” and that what he perceives as a poetic description of setting is instrumental in the resolution of the mystery (A Defence” 4).

He explains, “there is no stone in the street and no brick in the wall that is not actually a deliberate symbol – a message from some man, as much as if it were a telegram or a post- card. Anything which tends, even under the fantastic form of the minutiae of Sherlock

Holmes, to assert this romance of detail in civilization, to assert this unfathomably human character in flints and tiles, is a good thing” (4). Chesterton introduces the poetic and the human elements in terms of their instrumentality in the solution to the puzzle. Young further elaborates that topography is also important for another reason: “the city of Chicago is a crucial location for Paretsky’s novels, as is Los Angeles in Chandler. High degrees of realization in location and historical period add specificity to the texts” (82) and this “is captivating to the reader of detective fiction … Thus the reader ensures interpellation into and already imagined scene in which the timelessness of the crime – detection –apprehension scenario can be played out” (82). Finally, time seems to be significant for posters as it is invariably referred to in the description of books but also for critics because it provides the main frame for postulating ‘hardboiled’ or ‘cosy’ worlds especially when it comes to

‘historical cosies,’ and thus helps to establish the aura of a book. 232

Posters see spatiotemporal definition of detective fiction as more important for the

‘cosy’ category than for the ‘hardboiled,’ thus, agreeing with critics like Malmgren who suggest that there is a distinction between American and English detective fiction because the world each displays is markedly different. Shiloh says, for Malmgren, the “criteria of classification are twofold: the nature of the fictional world and the implied treatment of the sign” (3). This means that the ‘cosy’ “takes place in a centered, rational world, grounded in laws of cause and effect. In this kind of world, there is a necessary (i.e., motivated) relationship between deeds and intentions, making it possible to deduce one from the other.

The idea of motivation applies not only to behavior but also to signification” (3). In contrast, in the ‘hardboiled,’ “the investigator’s dispassionate deduction is replaced by the “hunch,” by the intuitive powers of the irrational self. The detective’s self is as irrational as the world in which he operates” (3) and, Malmgren continues, “The chaotic nature of the fictional space extends to the relationship between the signifier and the signified. That is to say, a character’s behavior does not point to his motives; the perceived chaos of experience does not conceal an underlying meaningful pattern” (3). Jameson defines the ‘hardboiled’ world in terms of “a new centerless city, in which the various classes have lost touch with each other because each is isolated in his own geographical compartment” (“On Raymond Chandler.” 127). Chandler summarises Hammett’s achievement in writing “realistic mystery fiction” (“” 233) because he managed to take “murder out of the Venetia vase and drop it into the alley” (234).

The ‘cosy’ then is more clearly defined in terms of time and space, and it is also noteworthy that, for posters, it is the rural setting which prevails in the ‘cosy’ stories. The fact that the urban setting does not appear at all in a ‘cosy’ story along with the high percentage of the urban setting for the ‘hardboiled’ is indicative of the perception of the

‘cosy’ as clearly a subgenre with a rural environment and the ‘hardboiled’ as a genre with an 233 urban environment without, however, excluding the rural. The vividness of the setting which posters demand for the ‘cosy’ but not necessarily for the ‘hardboiled’ is clear proof that posters see the ‘cosy’ environment as more important than that of the ‘hardboiled’ in terms of providing an exotic space to contemplate and relax. Posters here tend to agree with Marxist criticism as that by Heissenbüttel that topography loses its particular referentiality in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ category. In contrast, Kelly proposes that for posters to DorothyL “the evaluation of setting involves both realism, in the sense of accurate depiction, and a response on the part of the reader as if to the experience of a real place” (173) that is “realism in the felt sense of valid experience” (174).

Todorov stresses that what triggers the emergence of a new genre is an element which was seen as redundant in a previous genre and suggests that what led the transition from the

‘cosy’ to the ‘hardboiled’ is not the method of presentation but the milieu represented, the characters, the behaviour, that is, the themes elaborated. In agreeing with myth critics like

Sally Munt especially in the description of the setting which accommodates a different milieu and is seen as ranging between ‘rural’ and ‘urban,’ thus, more corrupt and dangerous, posters also agree with Todorov’s idea that the emergence of the ‘hardboiled’ as a genre introduces a new milieu and a new setting, which can be seen as the new element that Todorov talks about.

The idea of historicity is clearly valorised by posters especially in terms of the ‘cosy’ which may betray the notion that the ‘cosy’ world is differently appreciated by the posters.

Especially, when it comes to the ‘historical cosy’ which provides posters with the opportunity to marvel at the elaborate settings which are either strange or exotic, readers reap more, or a different kind of pleasure than when dealing with an urban environment. In fact, the

‘hardboiled’ urban environment may be perceived as more commonplace and familiar for posters which suggests that by designating a place as urban there is no necessity for time or 234 place naming or particularities as an urban environment is always associated to an urban city which is not much different from the next urban city whereas, for example, ancient Rome is distinctly different from Elizabethan England.

Another important aspect of the detective fiction setting that critics and posters agree on is the degree of violence that each type of setting is seen to propose. A case in point is the fact that for less traditional Marxists like Jameson violence is seen like an interruption in the

‘hardboiled’ world while in the ‘cosy’ it allows life to be fully experienced in a more intense way. The ‘cosy’ for critics involves an aesthetic experience of murder instead of moral, physical, natural, or real, that is, a distraction from the routine of daily life. In contrast,

‘hardboiled’ fiction presents violence in a different light. The detective is not dependent on his ratiocinative skills but is enmeshed within harsh social realities which trigger episodes of unexpected violence. Thus, although in the ‘cosy’ violence is presented as the core of the story around which everything revolves, the ‘hardboiled’ strand presents murder as accidental and after its resolution potentially meaningless. As Jameson puts it, “murder in the placid

English village is read as the sign of a scandalous interruption in a peaceful community while criminal actions in the ‘hardboiled’ strand manifest “a secret destiny, a kind of nemesis lurking beneath the surface of hastily acquired fortunes, anarchic city growth, and impermanent private lives” (“On Raymond Chandler” 126).

Posters also seem to agree with narrative theorists like Hilfer that the ‘cosy’ narrative structure grounds itself on the belief in an explainable world and stable signification while the ‘hardboiled’ on the notion of the self and identity as the grounds for endowing the world with meaning. Early critics, like Chesterton, also agree on the optimism that the ‘cosy’ world entails since it celebrates the triumph of civilization over anarchy and criminality.

Posters appear to find solace from the way Chesterton’s view actualises in detective fiction, particularly in the ‘cosy,’ because they do not appreciate stories that render the sleuth’s effort 235 meaningless in the battle against evil — at any case or cost the sleuth must rise triumphant, however maimed by the circumstances surrounding his or her quest for justice. This is also a decisive characteristic for the enjoyment of the ‘hardboiled.’ Posters do not enjoy feeling uneasy or uncomfortable with the ending of each story, thus, irrespective of the subgenre, stable signification, that is, at least momentarily identifying the culprit and bringing him or her to justice is decisive in appreciating detective fiction.

Technique

For early critics of detective fiction, technique, manifesting in the skill of weaving a seamless plot and a perfect puzzle is important, because, as Alison Young aptly summarises it, “the hidden identity of the criminal is the structuring motif of the text” (83). It is no surprise that when it comes to the technique of the detective story posters believe that structure is of great importance, very much like structurally-oriented and formalist critics like Cawelti, Irwin, Hilfer and all sorts of narrative studies that have focused on the idea that structure is what explains cultural phenomena more successfully than historicity-based theories like Marxism. An important point to notice, then, from the statistical analysis and the review of critical literature is that posters and critics, especially early ones, agree on the importance of plot, that is, the structuring of a story by causality and cohesion. Posters consider plot as a very important constituent for both ‘cosy’ and ‘hardboiled’ with a higher count for the ‘hardboiled.’ Plot is then authenticated as a vital component and is seen by both posters and critics as an exact science following strict rules. Posters also do not appreciate predictability in their plots as this characteristic is associated only with the ‘cosy’ category.’

Early critics of detective fiction such as Chesterton and Knox suggest that it is better to have too little feeling in detective fiction especially the ‘cosy’ since the detective tale is far removed from the melodramatic, emotional handling of literature of the previous century and 236 detective fiction as seen but as a mere puzzle engaging the reader in proportion to the artisanship infused in its construction and not in character depiction —intellect is what counts, not emotion. Thus, the modernist appreciation of reality and the privileging of aesthetic judgment dictated an unemotional approach to the detective story which is a parameter that both critics and posters appreciate to varying degrees for the two main categories.

Plot is for posters the single most important parameter in their discussions of technique. It is seen as a system which must function smoothly so that there are no loose ends, or confusing elements in the end when the tying together of all details, episodes, or sub- stories must be woven into a whole. This structurally-oriented perception of the detective story is more evident in the comments of posters in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ rather than the

‘cosy,’ surprisingly enough because the latter has been more rigidly associated with a particular formula. This manifest differentiation with traditional criticism betrays the fact that posters are not tolerant of a loose plot in the ‘hardboiled’ because the game-like quality of a story can only sustain itself if there is a stable infrastructure to support it. The existence of this infrastructure renders it mandatory that the threads of the story be brought together in a very believable way, which is a demand that posters make more in relation to the ‘cosy’ than the ‘hardboiled,’ thus suggesting that, although they do not stress the plot as much in relation to the ‘cosy’ as in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ they still do so when speaking of the believability and the systematization of the plot. Posters tend to agree with critics in that they want their readings to be believable but also accurate. In fact, believability is prized more by posters in relation to the ‘cosy’ than the ‘hardboiled.’ The same applies for accuracy, which in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ in particular, is rather low in poster preferences. Accuracy, thus, appears to be much more important for readers of the ‘cosy,’ in particular the ‘historical cosy.’ The treatment of detective fiction as a scientific composition is based for both critics 237 and posters on the intellectual puzzle it presents which structures the plot. According to

Symons, “the detective story writer concentrates on the puzzle to the exclusion of reasonable behavior” (185). It is this puzzle which urges both critics and writers to comment frequently on the artifice of the genre or its self-reflexive properties. The enigmatic nature then of the story is the main focus of interest instead of the murder or the crime committed. Thus, the detective story is treated by critics as a problem to be solved that allows one to postulate the interdependence of the various elements which constitute the plot and lead to its resolution.

Early critics, in particular, such as Van Dine and Knox stressed the importance of structuring detective fiction as a mathematical formula which would also allow them to study and analyse it in terms of its formal properties as well as moving to the formulation of rules on what constitutes detective fiction. “Holme’s interest in criminality is essentially intellectual, in which the transgressor is merely part of an equation that the detective must solve” (Chute 44).

Posters place emphasis on the ‘who-done-it’ puzzle formula which is more likely to be associated with the ‘cosy’ rather than with the ‘hardboiled.’ Critics consider the ‘who- done-it’ formula as characteristic of the ‘cosy’ too and tend to differentiate between this and the ‘why-done-it’ or ‘how-done-it’ formulas. This enigma that the plot presents manifests as a battlefield accommodating two conflicts concurrently, one between the detective and the criminal and the other between the author and the reader, all of whom strive to arrive at the solution to the puzzle before their counterpart. Because, in Shiloh’s words, “If the world of the detective novel revolves around a triad of fictional characters—the investigator, the criminal and the victim, the extra-textual space is marked by an intimate bond between the detective, the writer and the reader, who mirror each other in their common pursuit of making, or discovering, meaning” (8). 238

Occasionally, posters comment on the assurance of the resolution of crime and restoration of order in relation to the ‘cosy’ rather than in relation to the ‘hardboiled,’ but there is no evidence to support that they side with Marxist critics in the latter’s perception that the ‘hardboiled’ or even the ‘cosy’ resolution functions as a pacifying force which should numb the reader’s mind. Marxist ideology is seen to enter detective fiction especially in the constitution of the sleuth who is also portrayed as not believing in a kind of natural law that assures the restoration of order but puts all his or her efforts into the struggle, which integrates the sleuth in the social milieu at the same time refuting the lone-wolf prototype.

Thus, detective fiction grounds western capitalism by decontextualizing law and designating it as a natural element through the realism that characterises detective fiction. The fact that readers enjoy games, that is, solvable mysteries whose resolution is assured, entails that readers do not have their views changed in any way through the social struggles portrayed and that it is precisely what grounds western capitalism according to critics. Posters seem to agree in that they do not read detective fiction to have their views changed or to become enlightened in some way, but this is a conscious choice not one imposed on them by the powers that be. Posters, then, appear to agree with structurally-oriented critics who suggest that detective fiction is structured by certain primary rules that structure all narratives. As

Eco suggests, these rules function as dispositions which urge readers to read in a certain way rather than another. Posters are aware of the dispositions pertaining to the reading of the detective fiction puzzle but they do not seem to be primarily interested in ideological dispositions in their reading. Marxist critics believe that form is crucial in that it generates ideology through its epistemologic and ontologic premises, but posters appear disinterested in such notions.

Deeply integrated, for both posters and critics, in this game of wits is the notion of fair play, which is perceived as the mastery of the skill to confuse without cheating the opponent 239 in the game. Dexterity then in organising the clues is what makes good detective fiction.

The infusion of the plot with red herrings and subtle clues which will sustain interest and create a pleasurable reading experience in allowing the reader to exercise mental skills is valued by both critics and posters and especially in relation to the ‘cosy.’ The notion of fair play then is vital for both critics and posters. The repeatability of the highly formulaic pattern for both critics and posters constitutes a problem for writers, as keeping the reader’s interest is a matter of maintaining suspense by keeping the reader guessing and trying to outwit the sleuth. The writer has the right to confuse the reader by means of red herrings and subtle clues so as to keep interest in the puzzle. In fact, Malmgren stresses, “Suspense rather than curiosity [which] drives the narrative; readers want to know what happens next” (193).

This is an acceptable premise for both critics and posters and is what describes the ‘cosy’ in particular. Critics suggest that part of the fair play quality of the game that the reader plays in order to outwit the sleuth is the necessity that the crime that has been committed should not be of a trivial nature so that capturing the culprit, usually the murderer, can justify a lot of sleuthing.

Narrative studies, capitalizing on the highly formulaic nature of detective fiction, which is based on the demonstration of basic traits like the multiplicity of narrative levels and the text-within-a-text structure or structures that sustain or refute reader expectations according to Sweeney, consider it to be a prototype of all literature, but this is not a supposition shared by posters. However, the choice of the point of view of the story, that is the narrative voice, is of relative interest for both. In fact, posters appear twice as likely to associate the interest in the point of view with the ‘hardboiled’ rather than with the ‘cosy’ category despite the fact that the latter is considered more formulaic. Focusing on the fact that there is no observation without an observer even in the case of the omniscient narrator, the delegation of the narrative voice is seen by both posters and critics as relatively important. 240

Suspense, then, for critics depends on the gaps which are created by the narration of the story and the latent ideological, theoretical or personal positions which may even create a counter plot and capture characters into stereotypical roles, but is not an extremely important parameter for posters either in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ or in relation to the ‘cosy.’

The 1930s dissatisfaction with the ‘cosy,’ that is, the involvement in an intellectual puzzle, and its reduction of human problems and crime to mysteries that can be solved as

Ernest Mandel and Black propose, constitutes the main trigger for the emergence of the

‘hardboiled’ which is seen as a reaction to the former. The ‘hardboiled’ is not a story based on clichés which had begun to tire the readers but an attempt to express the subjectivity of the world beneath the facade, the concreteness of communal experience of the world. Thus, the

‘hardboiled’ emerges for critics as a subgenre that places more emphasis on elements beyond the formulaic aspect of the ‘cosy.’ Critics identify a demand for a clever trick but also more than that, and posters seem to agree. The most evident characteristic in the discussions of posters in relation to technique is the fact that they are more interested in what engages or entertains them rather than plot specifics. That is, although they are eager to read a book with a good plot and more so when it comes to a ‘hardboiled’ book rather than a ‘cosy,’ they do not seem keen on getting into the details of the plot structure. Thus, although the structure of the book must be of the kind that would maintain suspense, it is other characteristics that seem to interest them.

What critics believe would interest readers is not entirely what interests the posters to

DorothyL. Critics speak of the originality of the murder method and a theme based on specialised knowledge, which are only occasional interests for posters, not their most important criterion for reading. Instead, immediacy is more important for posters, and at this point it appears that critics agree as they see the ‘hardboiled’ in particular not as an exercise in ratiocination but rather as a movement from thought to action which renders the story more 241 vivid and strengthens the immediacy that the posters categorise as one of their most important demands. As Kelly explains, “readers anticipate and value being really engaged by a book”

(174) despite the fact that this is “captured most often dismissively, in the notion of ‘escape’”

(175). It is noteworthy that posters appear to value this characteristic four times more in relation to the ‘hardboiled’ than the ‘cosy,’ whose primary attraction appears to be problem solving. Here, therefore, posters appear to agree with psychoanalytic approaches that implicate textual relations to a reader or readers although the kind of emotional engagement that psychoanalysis envisions does not seem to correspond to what the posters describe as immediacy. Immediacy is defined as the invitation that the text extends to the reader to participate in solving the mystery. The characteristic of immediacy is mentioned much less for the ‘cosy’ than for the ‘hardboiled’ (the corresponding percentage is more than three times higher than for the ‘cosy’). Immediacy is dependent on the formulaic nature of the plot which the ‘cosy’ foregrounds in revealing its artificiality. In the ‘hardboiled,’ on the other hand, the reader is urged into an aggressive type of reading, which as a trend followed the incubating period that would transform the indifferent reader into a participant.

Psychoanalytic critics like Aydelotte become more specific on the issue of resolution and assurance of order. For them, the detective story does not entail order but expresses on a literary level the reader’s desire for order, thus proposing a world in disarray sustained by social upheaval and decadence which allows readers to vent their aggression. This venting on a fantasy level, according to Aydelotte foregrounds feelings hostile to democratic practices that would prove harmful if vented on real life.

Posters, on the other hand, stress that it is fun to read detective fiction and tend to associate it with lightheartedness, particularly in relation to the ‘cosy’ rather than the

‘hardboiled.’ Over the last phase of detective fiction criticism, the academisation of the genre in conjunction with a bridging of the gap between highbrow and lowbrow literature has 242 helped to qualify this lightheartedness in terms of other than dismissive escapism, thus rendering it less guilty of amoralism, ignorance or disinterest in serious problems. Moreover, critics do not seem to focus on the humour that posters to DorothyL appreciate in relation to the ‘cosy’ although Kelly suggests, “humour… receive[s] only occasional attention” (171).

However, the hardness that is characteristic of the ‘hardboiled’ but not mentioned at all in relation to the ‘cosy’ is part of their discussions when it comes to the description of the world portrayed.

All in all, posters tend to agree with considerations pertaining to the 3rd phase of detective fiction criticism, which relates fiction to society, but not in an intrusive manner because that could jeopardise the illusion of the mystery. In other words, detective fiction should bear a relationship to the everyday life of the reader and his or her concerns but not at the expense of the flow of the story itself as it should also satisfy criteria of structural and technical excellence. Kelly explains, “Since the 1920s, literary critics generally have contrasted mystery fiction unfavourably with modernist fiction for the former’s continued reliance on traditional modes of plot and character and the conventions of Realism. This persistent invidious distinction, long a factor affecting the writing of mystery fiction as well as its reception, surfaces occasionally in posts” since posters favour the idea of resolution and closure (174). The modernist revolt, then, against the conservative values of realism does not interest posters. 243

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

“The writer seems to be the master of his pen; he can become capable of great mastery over words and over what he wants to make them express. But his mastery only succeeds in putting him, keeping him in contact with the fundamental passivity where the word, no longer anything but its appearance — the shadow of the word — never can be mastered or even grasped. It remains ungraspable which is also the unreleasable: the indecisive moment of fascination.” Maurice Blanchot, The Space of Literature

This research project has revolved around the idea that, although the study of popular culture has been advanced by a number of scholars and theoretical trends, the undertaking of empirical research, especially on popular literature, has not been favoured and where performed it has been lacking in systematicity, thus allowing for a number of methodological concerns to emerge. These concerns have been tied to the hypothesis of whether providing a more systematic methodology of studying audience preferences would best help to describe these audiences and answer questions raised by cultural theorists in relation to the source and nature of popular culture, its potential dissolution by commercialization and industrialization into mass culture, and its impetus for ideological intervention.

The need to investigate these issues in a more systematic reader-oriented way has led the research to the material provided by posters to DorothyL, an electronic discussion list available on the internet for avid readers of detective fiction. The basic reason for choosing

DorothyL over other similar websites that offer an opportunity for discussion on popular- culture genres is the fact that it is the first, oldest and largest of those still active. A second important reason has been the fact that DorothyL provides access to the archives so that research is made possible. Since the material is already available there has been no use of 244 questionnaires, which are often accused of bearing the researcher’s dispositions, and thus apriori defining the result. Moreover, the poster sociological characteristics that the site provides are an extra advantage. The name and profession list made available by the owners has led to the conclusion that the majority οf posters are women. Moreover, most subscribers are related to book professions, which suggests informed knowledge.

A first reading of the material has made it clear that posters differentiate between two main categories, the ‘cosy’ category which comprises the simple ‘cosy’ and the ‘historical cosy,’ and the ‘hardboiled’ category which comprises the ‘hardboiled, ’ the ‘police procedural,’ the ‘private investigator,’ and the ‘thriller.’ Moreover, the posters read primarily for plot, sleuth, setting, quality of writing, and other characters and predicate the two main categories in relation to these characteristics. The way to go about studying the material was to employ a methodology that would allow for more than mere quantification of these basic terms but a methodology that would enable an analysis that would truly reveal the interests of the posters by tackling shortcomings evident in the methodological schemas used to study popular culture until today.

First of all, reservations have been expressed regarding the objectivity of content analysis in relation to the choice of categories. The analysis proceeds by isolating sets of words around which the message is constructed and it is the identification and consideration of these sets in detail that provides the basis of the research. Ideology is revealed through the statistical retrieval and analysis of these sets of words. However, there has been some reluctance regarding the objectivity of the criteria by which these sets of words are selected, since the choice represents the researcher’s predetermined idea of what the text must be saying. Strinati summarises the need for a more theoretically-informed plan not wholly relying on content analysis, and a more relational approach in which claims are “directly argued for in the text” and “objectively validated by semiological analysis” instead of being 245

“inference[s] drawn by the analyst as a result of her initial starting-point, and” having “to remain an arbitrary judgment, the result of the analyst’s ideological position, unless and until some more objective basis, including some empirically plausible basis, can be established”

(188).

The current project attempts to overcome such difficulties by opting for a methodology that combines qualitative content analysis, which allows the relational aspect demanded by such research questions to surface, and Greimasian structural semantics. The introduction of Greimasian structural semantics to guide the process of uncovering meanings and constituting codes ensures a limit to the analyst’s subjectivity and allows the texts to speak for themselves dismissing arbitrariness or the researcher’s bias.

This methodological approach has allowed for the definition of four major codes to emerge from the corpus, namely the code of the sleuth ranging from amateur to professional, the code of setting ranging from urban to rural, the code of social context which is seen as intimate or anonymous, and the code of tone which is defined in relation to violence or lack of it. Thus, the posters see the ‘cosy’ category as primarily characterised by an amateur sleuth, a rural setting, an intimate social context, and a non-violent tone. In contrast, in the

‘hardboiled’ they express a demand for a professional sleuth operating in an urban setting that is characterised by anonymity and violence. These codes surfaced through the application of a systematic textual analysis of the corpus. There is then a marked difference between the methodological praxis that has been employed in the past and what I have attempted in this project. While, for example, other studies apriori consider gender as the sole determinant for the female predicament, this project, studying posters who in their majority are women, has not dictated the variables to be studied in advance but instead has allowed for any variant besides gender to merit attention in the final description of the poster preferences. This project, then, has let the categories emerge from the material provided by the posters 246 themselves. I strongly believe that this approach fulfils the criteria of a more systematic, objective study.

An important myth that this project has helped to debunk, therefore, is the fact that popular culture, in this case detective fiction, cannot be studied on its own terms. The very use of detective-fiction categories that posters themselves have identified and the systematicity in allowing the variables of the codes of the categories to be unearthed disqualifies the claim that only theory can analyse fiction. Here theory has been used but not at the expense of empiricism since Greimasian structural semantics has been applied to actual reader-produced content, content that deals with detective fiction itself. Thus, theoretical schemas have been employed throughout, but each recourse to a theoretical tool has been dictated by the actual material and its nature. The approach has not been based on arbitrariness but on theoretical premises made necessary by the material itself. What is equally important is that the tracing of the emergence of these characteristics that posters enjoy dictates the theoretical premises employed for interpretation as well. The choice of theory to explain the findings does not depend on an analytical decision made in advance but is rather derived from an evident coincidence between what posters like and what critics have focused while studying detective fiction.

The trajectory of the research scheme involves first looking at what literary critics have said about detective fiction. In the first phase of criticism of detective fiction lasting until the 1960s, there was an emphasis on plot and structure. Narrative interest revolved around the notion of fair play and concocting the perfect puzzle for the reader’s enjoyment.

In the second phase that emerged in the 1960s and is concurrent with structuralism there was a demand for a systematic theory to account for detective-fiction pleasure, and a belief in the notion that detective fiction, like folk tales and myths, accommodates the general primary rules that structure all narratives and, thus, it can function as a prototype of methods to 247 analyse other literary genres as well. The search for the overall, permanent structure is, therefore, what characterises this phase of detective-fiction criticism. The third phase which started in the 1970s examines the relationship between society and culture. This phase takes pride in the production of minority literature, but also displays an interest in the ability of fiction to ensure stability by reproducing mentalities through an orchestration of themes and structures, thus intertwining society and fiction. In the 1980s, under the influence of feminist mentality, detective fiction is seen as a battle ground for ideological supremacy. This is the time when a multicultural perspective emerges and race, class, and (post) colonialism become elements of fiction. In the latter part of this phase, our contemporary, one sees an academic interest in the genre and the loosening of the high-brow versus low-brow dichotomy, which has led to criticism of detective fiction being today channeled in the study of all subgenres.

The posters show interest in areas that the critics are also interested in, but they sometimes have different priorities and preferences. They do appreciate the ‘cosy’ but they also enjoy the more cynical ‘hardboiled’ version. Posters are intrigued by the structure of detective fiction but not in the sense of searching for an overall common structure as in the second phase of detective-fiction criticism, although this is an occasional consideration for some wishing to produce the perfect detective story and ensure sales which urges them to even ask for favourite characteristics. Their concern is mainly akin to the first phase of detective-fiction criticism when the notion of fair play and resentment of loose threads reigned supreme.

What surfaces, therefore, is that although critics appear to focus on the same main issues with posters, that is, structure, technique, sleuth, social context and setting and time and account for the reception of detective fiction in terms of a schema lodged somewhere between Marxist and structural interpretations, posters proffer equally sophisticated preferences but different. Obviously they do not enjoy detective fiction because it can 248 explain all literature but as a structure that allows them to follow a story that makes them feel good and triumphant themselves. Theirs, however, is not a Marxist-inspired approach. Their urge to read detective fiction is neither in order to reveal motives, particularly economic ones as with other Marxist criticism, nor to treat the criminal as a communal scapegoat, as with psychoanalytic interpretations, nor even to simply bask in the few historical details, or professionally or hobby-relevant diction, which a writer may incorporate so as to hook the reader. All these are not appreciated by posters because they assist in a writer’s effort to educate, indoctrinate, attempt to place the reader with the dominant ideology, or create solutions to fabricated problems and thus divert attention, but because, if skillfully employed, they cater to the very personal need to stage the itinerary from crime to resolution by a competent sleuth with whom the reader can identify. Consequently, all peripheral details for posters should serve that purpose. The sleuth and the social setting and the actual setting should not be typified but be as realistic as possible, comprising full-blown personalities and settings and occurrences. Exaggeration is not appreciated because the posters bring their own priorities which shape demands for the fiction they read. This demand is best summarised as the need for solace and relaxation. Although then there is a Marxist emphasis evident in the demand for historicity, this demand is not Marxist in its constitution but one that can only allow the reader to become sympathetic to the sleuth, since becoming sympathetic to the criminal would lead to crime fiction not detective fiction. These posters are primarily interested in detective fiction which can provide them with the triumph of the sleuth and restoration of order involving the punishment of criminals along with a reinforcement of the potent and triumphant good and ethical reader-sleuth self.

The actual statistical analysis of the codes led to the conclusion that posters appreciate detective fiction which provides a good exercise of wits, a good puzzle and a good plot but these do not suffice. Posters wish their fiction to be more realistic than previous formulas, a 249 finding which accords with the approach of critics of detective fiction from the late 1970s until today. Realism has been a concern from the first phase of detective fiction criticism but not in the sense that was formulated after the 1970s, which involved more socially-aware perspectives rather than mere realistic depiction of places mirroring the sleuth’s or villain’s psychological state. In the current study then I have reached the conclusion that, while the puzzle and the notion of fair play (though not in terms of looking for the overall structure that accounts for all literature46) has remained a constant throughout the itinerary that detective- fiction criticism has followed, realism, in the sense described by the posters, is a relatively recent phenomenon for detective fiction. Its emergence may be first traced in the 1970s which chronologically coincides with the advent of the internet revolution, feminist approaches to literature and a spirit of tolerance towards the ‘other’ and is not exhausted in the demand for a realistic or exotic setting. What emerges then is that for the time span 1970-

2000, if not until today, readers of detective fiction, whether critics or everyday readers, have appreciated detective fiction that has revolved around the clever-puzzle element but also fiction that boasts historical embeddedness, that is, fiction which is not detached from actual life and its struggles and victories at a sociopolitical level. For at least thirty years then, readers of detective fiction have been finding pleasure in the repetition of the same formula.

Posters appear to reserve their value judgments for these special characteristics they look for in their fiction: realism in a sociopolitical sense and good puzzles. Poster preferences, then, suggest that for the posters detective fiction is not interesting simply because it provides coincidence with a certain mental structure. It is the historical situatedness that opens the way for readers to reach that mental structure and enjoy some particular aspect of it that is operative at the time. This is yet another indication that the current project has taken a step beyond research which ignores actual audiences speaking for themselves.

46 Posters do tend to focus on what the constituents of a good ‘cosy’ or ‘hardboiled’ are for instance, and seek to pinpoint its structure but not in terms of accounting for all literature, simply as the recipe of writing a good ‘cosy’ or finding the next good ‘cosy’ to read. 250

Against mass culture theory which sees the democratization of culture as a tragedy because it debases it by allowing mass cultural production, posters to DorothyL consider the genres of detective fiction capable of accommodating all types of sleuths and all types of characters in contrast to previous times when women and minorities were typecast only as victims or villains. This trend emphasizes a refusal to succumb to mass-culture standardisation. Posters want their characters to be well-developed characters with real lives and concerns which reflect their own, without, though, eclipsing the mystery as in the case of crime fiction. Communality, however, has not worked at the expense of individuality, as it has not led to the dissolution of personal characteristics. Posters are keen on reading detective fiction that was written in the 1970s and 1980s thus being concurrent with the advent of feminism and the beginning of critical preoccupation with gender, sexuality, race, or even age. They do not appear to be victims of a homogenized culture because they do not see the entrance of the ‘other’ in sleuth roles as tantamount to dissolution of special characteristics but rather as a celebration of individuality and idiosyncrasy, a trend first traced in detective fiction in the late 1970s.

Posters, as already noted, reserve their value judgments primarily to discuss two criteria: realism perceived as socially-aware, non-obtrusive historical situatedness, and plot excellence. Despite its standardized formulaic nature, detective fiction preferred by the posters to DorothyL does not, at first glance, sentimentally evoke nostalgia for an idealized past. Instead, the demand for historical embeddedness betrays a concern with current worries rather than a utopian escape into the safety of previous eras. For posters to DorothyL, reality is not something they wish to escape, at least not to the extent that they do not recognize its characteristics, but rather it is something they wish to keep at bay for as long as they indulge in a fantasy of triumphing over its hardships and experiencing the benefits of a more competent self-image. Posters do not appear to shy away from the challenge of thinking, as 251 they demand cleverly constructed plots and enjoy red herrings. In fact, the greater their effect of deluding sleuth and reader, the greater the achievement of sidestepping the obstacles and solving the case, hence more enhanced the satisfaction for the reader, who thus seems to demand a formula that guarantees successful resolution and vicarious pleasure derived only from having reached the answer against all odds. However, the reassurance of the triumph of the detective may be said to break the illusion of the tale and to poke holes in the democratization of the genre; the fact that every sleuth, no matter what their special abilities or hindrances, is successful does not build a case good enough to sustain realism at all costs.

Thus, at this point popular detective fiction tips towards mass-culture characteristics as it provides a solution for all cases, thus minimising the importance of the difficulties faced by people in real life.

The aim for posters is to avoid looking at the implausibility of ever-assured triumph over the villain. For this reason, posters seek realism because it allows them to identify with the problems facing the sleuth including family, interpersonal, health, job, that is, all the problems that one may face in everyday life. When realism and plausibility are sustained throughout, the reader willfully suspends disbelief and becomes receptive to the actual end, which must always be the triumph of the sleuth. And should the sleuth be left with an injury, this makes the story all the more believable for the posters who wish to see their ever triumphant sleuth triumph once more. This may, in fact, be seen as the contract regulating the roles of writer and reader. Concessions appear to be made on both sides as readers suspend disbelief over the final resolution provided that writers have woven a good puzzle that does not allow threads to run loose but instead has allowed the readers to identify themselves in the sleuth before the actual much-craved-for resolution arrives. Posters appear willing to buy such fiction that portrays a realistic world that allows them to identify with the sleuth in everyday life so that the implausibility of repeated victory, the eventual triumph in 252 story after story, is overlooked. It is a formula that guarantees success as it caters for both writer and reader needs.

What surfaces then is that posters know exactly what they like and this may be seen as evidence of the fact that they do not allow themselves to be manipulated through the fiction they read, in contrast to mass-culture-theory claims that repetitive, standardized, cultural objects are means of manipulation that do not promote thinking but cast the consumer in the role of passive recipient. As this project has allowed the audience, that is, the readers of popular detective fiction, to speak for themselves instead of speaking on behalf of them, it becomes clear that these agents, to the extent that they display informed knowledge, as they do, cannot be said to be passive consumers but actively express what they want to read and why. The very fact that they do not wish to be ideologically guided through the fiction they read and the fact that they appreciate social commentary as long as it is not intrusive or manipulative further strengthens the point.

In this sense, posters to Dorothy, apparently do not treat their reading in terms of the commodity fetishism associated with the Frankfurt school. Besides being fully aware of what is going on in their favourite fiction as well as of the implicit contract between themselves and the writers of such fiction — not to mention the fact that some of them undertake to write fiction with characteristics they enjoy or ask for feedback from fellow posters — they do not appear to consider their reading as a stopgap measure for other, real needs. It can be said, then, that in this case the culture industry is not dealing with ignorant, passive consumers but rather with active recipients who wish their fiction to follow certain rules. The very fact that posters employ a metalanguage to talk about their fiction is proof enough to suggest that they are not passive. Thus, the Frankfurt school’s claim that culture is a means of manipulation seems to be turned on its head since these posters are not manipulated by the cultural object they enjoy but rather manipulate the cultural object for their enjoyment, fully aware of its 253 status and their use of it. In contrast to Kelly, for instance, who has suggested that detective fiction educates people on how to deal with modernity, these posters themselves suggest that they are not instructed by their reading material in this respect but rather utilize detective fiction as an outlet for their pent-up frustration from everyday life. They want their fiction to imitate at least some aspects of their life, not to act as a means of informal tutoring on how to overcome their weaknesses. What they want to see in their fiction is actual, at times weak, people triumph, not super humans with no weaknesses. Detective fiction then for these posters is a celebration of weakness not a crash course on how to overcome it. In an era that consumes images and signs at the expense of usefulness, since superficiality and style are deemed more important than substance, meaning, depth and artistic excellence, posters seek to fill the void by utilizing detective fiction to cater to a true need that might help to alleviate the anxiety created by that void. Indeed, meaning, depth and artistic excellence are qualities that they explicitly look for in their ‘escapist’ reading.

Moreover, the resentment of ideological manipulation in their fiction reveals that posters do not seem to endorse the reconciliation of anyone, let alone themselves, to the pit of capitalism through the workings of its commodity industry. Being fully aware of the uses of detective fiction for them and, thus, excluding any possibility of detective fiction being an imposition from above and one they do not even realize as such, they consider themselves responsible for the books they read and they are so keen on maintaining this responsibility that, should a book attempt to break the implicit contract of acquiescence, it is immediately discarded and flagged on the site. In reading detective fiction, there is a use value that matters for posters not an exchange one, which is precisely why it does not serve as a means of incorporating difference into the capitalist system. Each culture-industry consumer is identical to the next as each has sacrificed idiosyncrasy and special characteristics for the sake of excelling or at least keeping up with the Joneses, completely unaware that this 254 happens at the expense of an awareness of one’s true position which could have led to dissidence against the ruling powers. For as long as posters do not wish to have their difference discarded, or dissolved, and instead, embark on a celebration of such personal, idiosyncratic experience through the fiction they read, they cannot have their voices smothered.

The fact that posters embrace individuality and idiosyncrasy in their fiction may be mistaken for false individualization, that is, for the Frankfurt school, covert standardisation which, in turn, keeps the culture-industry wheel and the capitalist system running as they indoctrinate the masses into the ideology of the status quo. However, the posters to

DorothyL present a different case from that described by Adorno who claims that conformity has replaced consciousness. The difference lies in the fact that the posters are fully aware of the standardization of their fiction and they ardently ask for it themselves which could, at face value, entail that they are so deeply steeped into the mechanics of the culture industry that, mesmerised, they willfully surrender their critical skills and succumb to the lures of capitalism. On the contrary, posters’ awareness of their preferences does not allow such a categorization. The standardised formula they cherish may in some part be subject to the substitutability of elements deeply resented by the Frankfurt School, but it does not subscribe to treating the audience as a bunch of mindless eleven-year-olds. Detective fiction demands attention; in order to enjoy a book one must participate in the game of deciphering clues and red herrings. Moreover, the demand that posters put forward for vivid surroundings and realism enhances this claim. Thus, Adorno’s view that popular culture provides catharsis and functions as a caring mother who is always there to soothe feelings and release tension is not totally wrong, though it does not extend to psychoanalytic interpretations relating the appeasing of guilt through identification with the victim or the culprit in a vicarious recreation of the primal scene. However, Adorno seems to contradict himself when he 255 suggests that there is a self-awareness of missed fulfillment in the world outside fiction which the fictional world seeks to address. This is precisely the case with the posters. There is an awareness of missed fulfillment but the fiction they read to alleviate the anxiety of the lack of fulfillment does not reconcile them to their assigned place in the non-fictional world. There is, then, a huge difference. What is offered to them is pre-digested not by the culture industry but by the posters themselves. One may, of course, counteract that this self-aware submission to standardization cancels individualization all the more because it is willed, but this does not appear to be the case.

Another way that the same issue can be looked at is by taking into consideration

Gendron’s claim that standardization may mean pleasure instead of manipulation via the culture industry. This seems to be more in line with the posters’ experience of reading detective fiction. Although Gendron suggests that in textual artefacts there is no way to distinguish the core from the periphery, this project has aspired to assist in that direction. For it is the puzzle which has been a permanent concern for critics of detective fiction and has remained a stable quality for posters too. The kind of realism that posters demand their reading to display is a more recent phenomenon, as already mentioned. Detective fiction only started to showcase this particular version of realism in the 1970s and 1980s, at the same time discarding both the aloof and isolated sleuth of the ‘cosy’ as well as the more exaggerated ‘hardboiled’ version. The latter boasted realism in its depiction of toughness and sleuth reactions to large-scale criminality, both ignored by the ‘cosy.’ However, it did not offer the special hooks that women and minorities need to identify with the sleuth. This lasted until the 1970s when realism was reconfigured as an opening up of the genre to formerly neglected agents and when a new-found appreciation of, for instance, female competency in roles outside, or beside, the household was established. The fashionable part of such detective fiction as that read by posters, is obviously then the realistic element, the 256 respect for historicity which posters enjoy and which, as far as they are concerned, seems to be here to stay. The paradigmatic material based on the studies of detective fiction by critics appears to fortify this position because critics only after the third phase of detective-fiction criticism started to show interest in realism broadly seen as the right of the ‘other’ to acknowledgement, not as mere realistic depiction of the environment but as a more egalitarian formulation.

Moreover, Adorno’s elitism, reserving the pursuit of thinking enterprises and fiction that demands cognitive skills for a select few, does not find its embodiment in the posters.

For they are a group of regular people holding regular jobs — however associated with reading — who enjoy spending their time in non-mindless ways. Theirs is not an absent- minded pursuit, as in order for them to enjoy detective fiction they must have all their attention turned to the puzzle and the string of clues and red herrings. Their choice of fiction does not satisfy a need to relax by engaging in mindless reading but a need to relax by engaging the best cognitive skills to outwit the sleuth and solve the mystery first. Those people fully enjoy their art but their status is not that of the elite. This is in contrast to the notion that the Frankfurt school espouses, that is, perpetuating the capitalist system through standardization and lack of thinking enforced by the culture industry.

The tracing of a characteristic formula accompanied by what the Frankfurt School considered the individualistic element is then what the reader finds pleasure in but not in terms of pinpointing narrative techniques that account for all literature which, as already mentioned, pertains to critical interests of the 1960s. The readerhas his or her deeply-held belief in the triumph of good over evil, and in the happy resolution satisfied and is left satisfied himself/herself. Thus detective fiction, very much like Fleming’s novels, capitalizes on universal structures that thrive on the human propensity to dream of a happy and safe life.

Beyond this, however, it should be noted, that what this project has demonstrated is that 257 codes are not fixed, but are historically defined. Historical circumstances in the late 1970s have led to a transformation of the genre into a more historically-oriented disposition. Yet, it should be noted that the influence of intertextuality goes only as far as the basic structure in detective fiction allows. The main structure is not changed, because it is this structure which offers stability and core pleasure; it is the peripheral structure in detective fiction, the little details that provide a semblance of people’s concerns for historicity that change in order to facilitate the process of identification with the core structure, and consequently with the final resolution, which demands that the same person once again beats evil.

There is, however, a sense in which the demand of DorothyL posters for the elements that they consider essential to their enjoyment of detective fiction may be to a certain extent problematic. It is the very demand for historicity that urges readers into an appreciation of characters who are not superhuman, but average everyday people with vices and weaknesses, in short, people who embody Eco’s aesthetic universality. Moreover, posters demand characters who display the developed personality which allows them to lead a normal life.

Leading a normal life, however, would suggest that the sleuth and the rest of the characters be subject to the laws of nature and the inevitability of death as Eco suggests. This would obviously conflict with reader preferences who, despite wishing for historicicity and realism, would not enjoy seeing their favourite sleuth and other characters die because that would severely disrupt any pleasure derived from reading their fiction. Detective fiction, as already mentioned, is appreciated because it sustains a semblance of reality, yet a reality where all lethal threats have been eradicated. Drawing pleasure from the reassurance of the core formula, the readers inject a dose of realism, but only to the extent that this is not so real that it might demand of them to face death, the inevitable fact of life. Theirs, then, at the core, is a demand for a fictional realism which may be seen to distance them from the real instead of bringing them closer and urging them to social action to amend the injustice in their real 258 world. It is merely a realism that allows identification at a surface level, it allows the reader to hinge on something so as to follow the path of the story, and thus reach a conclusion and vicarious pleasure at having been triumphant in the fictional world. As Eco himself has suggested, it is the recurrence of the non-story which defies the flow of time which is what readers draw pleasure from. It is this instance which allows them to imagine momentarily that they have grasped the means of stopping time, not being subject to the inevitability of death since death is not even part of the picture for the sleuth but only for those bad villains who deserve punishment but who are not us. Moreover, such a narrative offers chances of relaxation as Eco suggests because in the era of technological advancement and demands on the individual, it might offer the only opportunity for unwinding. Since it does not present anything new, it eliminates the fear of death and provides the reader with a feeling of efficiency perhaps beyond what one can accomplish in everyday life.

Finally, Eco’s stipulation, that maintaining an iterative scheme is dependent on maintaining a particular world image, governed by iterativity which precludes death or description of the way towards it, is traced in the poster preferences. In order for them to enjoy the iterative scheme, there must be a realistic depiction of the world they live in, with slight modification to the extent that major threats leading to the protagonist’s death are excluded. It is this world which will allow them to become engrossed in the text and accept its premises and, thus, eventually be satisfied by the final resolution of conflict. Therefore, should this element be missing, there would be no hinge for the readers to become interested in the text. It is then the periphery which sustains the core not the other way round. No interesting world resembling the readers’ would amount to no interest in the story, no interest in the iterative scheme; hence the scheme would have to die out or reinvent itself. This is reminiscent of Iser’s implied reader who functions as a dimension of the text entering into a discussion with the rest of the elements of the text and implies that all dimensions must 259 cohere for the formula to continue its hold on the reader. In reality, however, the reader, the poster in this case, appears to have a more powerful say in the definition of his or her favourite literature and functions as more than a predisposition, a dimension of the text he or she is reading. Thus Iser’s schema appears to be facing a fictive, long-due coup d'état because posters upgrade themselves from mere predispositions to competent readers who demand the other predispositions to cohere with their demands in order for them to reap pleasure.

It surfaces, therefore, that the codes and signs that readers utilize to speak of detective fiction do have recourse to universal structures but the very constitution of these codes, that is the tipping towards one side of the scale, or the other is in fact historically determined. In other words, it is the posters’ historical situatedness which urges them to demand a different kind, a more profound kind of realism in the delineation of the sleuth during the last thirty years, for the first time in the history of detective fiction. The code of the sleuth is a general category which is constant, but which may be seen to harbour internal diversification. In previous times realism was never a demand for sleuth portrayals, unless of course the

‘hardboiled’ typified, exaggerated version qualifies for the ultimate realistic sleuth. Very much like Barthes’s conception of myths then, detective fiction that posters to DorothyL appreciate may be seen to distort reality while professing to do exactly the opposite.

Utilizing the semblance of reality evident in the familiar elements of everyday life, the much- craved-for historicity, which has entered the genre since the late 1970s, provides opportunity for identification but distorts reality by eliminating the fact that the inextricable combination of time lapsing and eventual consumption of human beings through death is the actual reality.

The reader then rests content with the imposed semblance of a triumph over little everyday battles and the illusion of eternal existence which infuses an extra feeling of powerfulness. In fact, though, such a vicarious pleasure is problematic as it allows tension and anger aimed at 260 the real to be exorcised in the fictional realm. Following Barthes, it may be said that the system of signification is taken as fact, that is, natural and, instead of urging a further awareness of problems, it serves to present them as reality over which the reader is given the chance to triumph. Thus, it appears that triumph in the fictional world is a substitute for triumph in battles missing in the real world. Moreover, Barthes’s concept of the Eternal man appears to find his embodiment in the preferences of the posters because this man, that is, the sleuth is indeed stripped of the most essential characteristic of manhood; life and mortality.

Exchanging mortality for a semblance of reality, the sleuth, whether male or female, is in fact stripped of the chance of eventual consumption which suggests that he may always be there for the poster to ‘eternally’ satisfy what they cannot satisfy in reality.

Benjamin believes that reproducing a work of art makes it lose its uniqueness which is supplanted with massive quantity. For Benjamin the source of a work’s power (authority) is its aura which is destroyed by reproduction. The historicity of the original underlies its authenticity so authenticity renders the work resistant to future use. Reproduction removes the object from its embededness in tradition and renders it functional later on. He believes that this is a way to make art and the world new. In contrast, Carl Einstein suggests the idea of reproduction or repetition serves to provide the illusion of stability and immortality against a reality which is constantly changing. It thus pacifies against the fear of death. Moreover, it does so by proffering an ordered fictional world, one in which stability and duration structure the perceptive schemas provided to relax the senses. The detective fiction that posters prefer has been an attempt to introduce contemporary social concerns that began to be expressed in the late 1970s but at the same time it reinforces an old formula; the puzzle must be excellent.

Thus, the conservative core of detective fiction of the past, that is, the puzzle, reinforces the conservatism of such artistic endeavours. For Einstein reproduction is against radical 261 changes in creation as it only offers reassurance via the old form and the abundance of art from the past substantiates the argument.

Posters, then, do not find attractive the aura of a previous literary style, that is, the

“auratic” trace of another subjectivity but the continuing presence and influence of the forms of the past, as Einstein believes. Forms outlast the intended effect, the intended meaning and the aura simply functions as a hinge to maintain interest in the material, to read the puzzle in the case of detective fiction. Thus, art’s purpose is not aesthetic or ritualistic but cognitive: the figuring of human vision. The beholder is burdened by the memory of all previously seen art. By changing artistic form one transforms human vision which in turn changes the world.

The popularity of detective fiction that posters read suggests then that, seeking the old form and a formula that emerged with their generation in the late 1970s, posters manage to offer themselves the necessary relaxation from the hustle and bustle of the everyday world which has become more demanding than ever. By identifying with a hero or heroine who is very realistic and leads a life that is similar to their own they borrow from the reassurance provided with the final resolution, and, despite any scars or insight a particular story has left behind, they succeed in being efficient, albeit in a fictional world and only for as long as a reading a book lasts. Thus, they emerge richer in self-esteem and in the conviction that all will be well. However, this means that they do not create a new world or a new art as this is not their interest. Reassurance is what they wish for, not novelty which might incur more stress.

If Escarpit is right in his assumption that every writer faces oblivion 30 years after his or her death at the latest, then it stands to reason that the posters are on a similar curve sustaining a certain generation of works and writers who express their preferences and cater to their needs. Since it is the value system which must remain operative for a writer to maintain popularity, it is the value system which must be accompanying the works of fiction 262 that readers enjoy. The auratic gaze then is not destroyed by reproduction for as long as it speaks to a certain generation of readers. Obviously the historical embeddedness, that is, the aura informing the golden era, the ‘cosy,’ is different from that of the ‘hardboiled’ era and both are different from the aura of the late 1970s but that only further proves the point.

However, as already mentioned, this is not enough. The aura of a work of art simply functions to hinge readers to the work but it is not what sells books. This is the task of the core form of detective fiction, the puzzle, which is what allows the reader to feel victorious and rise above everyday circumstances, however necessary their description for the initial identification. Such a longing for the happy resolution of conflict betrays that posters today, perhaps more than ever, crave the feeling of wholeness that postmodernism has helped shatter, in other words, the feeling that all will be well. It appears then that posters are seeking the security of a stable reference which postmodernist mentality, in treating everything as a replica of everything else and forcing everything into the constant flux of seeking to become the representation of a representation, has refused. The feeling of uneasiness, which the contemporary world fosters more than in any previous era, appears to be combated in popular fiction, such as detective fiction, because in naming the culprit and the sleuth and in fixing blame and according punishment the world is rendered safe and stable. The process becomes even more important since the reader identifies with the sleuth, which suggests that not only is the receiver of popular detective fiction given a semblance of stability but becomes vicariously instrumental in achieving it. Thus, the reference becomes the reader himself who is flattered into believing that, when everything else is in shambles, the stability lies in each one’s own self. This is invaluable when contrasted to the hollowness and instability of the postmodern world. There is then a desire for a recourse to the modern world which provided more stability and this desire has been constant from the inception of detective fiction. While humankind is striving for more stability, evident in the persistence of 263 a genre like detective fiction, human actions in everyday life lead in leaping bounds towards more instability with the passing of every day. It is such knowledge that the industry capitalizes on and in catering to that need it can secure sales. Thus, detective fiction may be seen as the audience’s expression of a demand for security and stability, not as a channel of indoctrinating people into the dominant ideology or of tutoring on how to deal with frightening aspects of modernity. In other words, it may be seen as a desire for a recourse to the reassurance of modernity; an epoch when centres could hold and a postmodernist mind could have potentially identified through all the replicas, the endless books of detective fiction written every year, that is, the endless row of signifiers, the centre, the signified bodying forth as reassurance of resolution and stability. In fact, it is the satisfaction of this demand that has helped sustain detective fiction popularity despite modifications in the peripheral elements, modifications that have led to various subgenres. But this must be a reassurance applied to contemporary standards and respectful of contemporary lives, not a vicarious escape into an edenic past, however edenic the ultimate reassurance.

All in all, my conclusions concur with structuralist and post-structuralist assumptions about the nature of language, culture and (wo)man. This study proves I believe the

(post)structuralist claim that aesthetic language is ideological and can neither be studied as an entity that is independent of the socio-cultural trellis in which it is inextricably intertwined nor as a sanction of the passive mirror-metaphor. I am confident that the project at hand establishes that the appeal of popular detective fiction is not a manifestation of sovereign propaganda or the reflection of miniscule changes in the Zeitgeist. Moreover, my research ascertains that authorial intentions per se or inspiration from a universal or transhistorical essence do not guarantee any stability in the ideological underpinnings of aesthetic language or its appreciation. 264

The ideological contours to which popular detective fiction has lent itself over time testify to the subversiveness of literature and disclose aspects of its dissident nature.

However, the disposition of aesthetic language is not whimsically incendiary. The inherent instability of language, which renders it an autonomous, yet pliable system of signification, does not amount to fickleness. This system yields meaningful utterances only through the interrelation of its parts. Consequently, it is the internal (re)organization of its constituents that allows literary structures to disentangle themselves from the original circumstances of their inception and to initiate new meanings.

The subversiveness of aesthetic language, in other words the propensity for

(re)organization, is fueled by the dialectical relationship which it maintains with reality. This refutes the traditional phenomenalogical assumption of the transparency of language and dismisses as illusory the unabated, paradigmatic flowing of specific ideological experience in the time continuum. In a ‘linguistic’ world ‘reality’ can only be mediated because it is tentative to the socio-economic constitution of its agents. Agents are cultural and discursive structures, symbolic beings and their situatedness is historically interactive. Readers of popular detective fiction have lived in distinct linguistic universes. Thus, they are the embodiments of distinct cultural meanings and practices precisely because they find themselves in diverse culturally-dictated loci of meaning. Each spatiotemporal point elicits a marked perception of self, language, value system, practices. Posters to DorothyL, representing the latest generation on the curb of popular detective fiction, distance themselves from certain evaluative criteria of previous generations. Thus, they testify to the contingency of aesthetic production and social infrastructure in terms of production, reconfiguration and reception.

Appreciation of the puzzle formula, which sustains popular detective fiction, is no grim example. Posters to DorothyL appear to privilege the structuralist approach to reading, 265 namely the urge to discover the rationality of the secret coherence of the text, the impeccable puzzle that is capable of releasing thrilling sensations. The structuralist assumption that a work has intrinsic meaning is the main criterion for posters and it materializes in their very demand for the perfect puzzle. Popular detective fiction for these posters is precisely popular because of the predisposition that they will encounter an exciting puzzle whose spine-tingling effect is ahistorical because the coherence precedes the text and is, therefore, capable of forming it. Each detective-fiction book, therefore, is in this sense a copy of that order or structure which grounds its coherence. Their reading presupposes the traditional and metaphysical notion of harmony and unity. Nonetheless, the careful analysis of their views and a profound consideration of critical perspectives reveals that they do not negate the reality of the material conditions of production and reception. Meaning itself is fragmented and the structuralist assumption of the unitary meaning is negated. For these posters there is no essential truth embodied through their fiction but their own truth because life and thought are historical. Their reading is, therefore, also poststructuralist because it is marked by a rejection of totalizing, essentialist, foundationalist concepts and because it contests the concept of man as developed by enlightenment thought and idealist philosophy.

What is most important, however, is that such claims have been spearheaded not by an imposed methodological approach that has sought to verify what it has taken for granted in advance. The audience here has been turned into an object of study, its talk a symptom of desires. In fact, the audience here, beyond being turned into an object of study, has spoken for itself. 266

Appendix. DorothyL Subscriber and Occupations List

Abbott, Jeff Writer - Mystery Aguila, Lourdes (Lilly) Archaeologist - U.S. Southwest Aleshire, Sara B. Greek Epigraphist Allen, Caroline Teacher - Art, Public School Anderson, Douglas Professor - Assoc./Writing, Humanities Dept. Anderson, Jeri Librarian - Circulation Coordinator Ashraf, Susan University Administrator Askew, Carl Teacher - H.S. Spec. Ed./Academic Enrichment AvirettMcKenzie, Lori Bank Product Mgr/ Caterer Baber, Diana Real Estate Appraiser Baer, Judy Professor - Political Science Baich, Annette Professor - College Biology/Chemistry Bailes, Pamela Teacher - Middle School Science Bailey, Jeanne M. CPA - Assistant Controller Ballard, Cindy Editor - Asst, Acquisitions, Indiana U. Press Bang, Brenda Purchasing Agent - Univ. of Iowa Bangham, Jerry Professor - Assoc./Speech and Theatre Barber, Nancy L. Hydrologist (Geologist) Barkan, Myra Librarian - Public High School Barley, Kaye-Alan W. Administrative Assistant Barnard, Elizabeth Writer - Mystery, Composition Instructor Barrick, Holly Computer Programmer/analyst Basso, Cheryl Librarian - Asst.Superv.of A-V,Coll.of St.Francis Battiste, Anita L. Librarian - Reference, U. of FL, Gainesville Beene, Lynn Professor - English, Linguistics, Popular Lit. Benson, Mary Margaret Librarian Berry, Lois Librarian - Serials, Univ. of Wyoming Bertland, Linda Librarian - Middle School Besser, Tamara Sue Mom, Graduate Student, Writer Billings, Jessica Editor - School Board Magazine Blockman, Brooke Psych.grad.student/ book seller Bond, Lynda Librarian - Ministry of Econ. Devel., Canada Boone, Nadya Electrical Engineer - Factory Control Systems Bostick, Sharon Librarian - Director U.of Mass. Boston Library Bowdler, Sandra Archaeologist - Prehistoric (South Pacific) Bracken, Jeanne Librarian - Reference Brookins, Carl Admissions counselor/hopeful writer Brosier, Barbara Circulation Asst.,Alabama U.Libr. Brown, Laurie Computer Programmer Bryan, Marie K. Librarian - Library Service Dir., California Burdick, Peggy Admin. Asst for genetic researchers, St. Jude's Burgess, Dorothy Librarian Burke, Jan Writer Burnette, Michaelyn Librarian - Humanities, Univ. of Cal. Burns, Ann Librarian - Bibliographic Instructor Burton, Carmen Coordinator, Advis/Eng. Instructr Busekist, Janet Software Design & Troubleshooter Butts, Patricia Library Asst./Bibliographic Serv. 267

Byrd, Donna Librarian - Administ.,Ret. Campbell, Heather Librarian Cater, Judy Jerstad Librarian - Media Services Chaiko, Penny Teacher - High School, Vancouver, B.C. Chester, John Lawyer - National Science Chittenden,Margaret/Meg Writer Christie, Adrienne Manager, Information and Library, N.Z. Christie, Susan Freelance technical writer/editor Churchill, Jill Writer - Mystery Clemons, Laura E. Publicatns. Editor, Tenn. Tech. U Close, Julia System Programmer Ret. Coffin, Don Economist/Educator Cohen, Felissa L. Medical geneticist and Registered Nurse Coleman, Jerry Lawyer - City Attorney Connolly, Philomena Archivist,Irish Natl. Archives, Dublin Cook, Cindy Electronic Database Manager Cook, Ginny Media Specialist Cowherd, Debbie Secretary - Upward Bound Project, Univ. of Iowa Cox, Elizabeth Circulation & Interlibrary Loan S Crider, Bill Writer - Chair. Div of English & Fine Arts Crocker, Jody Library Assistant Crohan, Catherine Librarian - Academic, Siena College Library Cumming, Leighton H. Librarian - Managing, of Sectl. Lib. World Bank Davidson, Sally K. Owner/Mgr. of DocuServ Davis, Melinda Librarian - Univ. Law Library Del Calvo, Mairi Librarian - Children's, Public Derie, Kate Writer Devine, Mary E. Professor - English/ co-author travel books Dickerson, Ian Satellite Controller/ Writer/Saint Diehl, Barbra A. Admin.,Student Affairs Doench, Elizabeth Computer Programmer Analyst Donnenwirth, Marion Technical Writer Doty, Ralph Professor - Assoc./Classics (Greek, Latin) Douglas, Nancy Univ. of Calif. Librarian Dudley, Linda A. Degree Program Specialist - U. of GA. Law School Duffel, Patricia Librarian - Medical Duncan, Leslie Reporter/Environmental Newsletter Earls, Beverly Adult Serv. Coord., Publ. Library Easton, Alice Admin. asst. to Dean of Fine Arts Egbers, Gail Reference/Bibliog. Instructor Eisert, Debra Librarian Ellers, Elizabeth Marketing Researcher for Advertising Agency Elliott, Nancy Assoc. Prof. Biology Ellis, Diane Grant writer Ellwood, Chris Librarian - Science Ely, Carol Exhibit Designer (Children's Museum) Engle, Daphne Administrative Assistant, Diversey Corp. Epstein, Suzanne Marriage & Family Therapist Ernst, Kathleen Teacher - Elementary School - Grade 3 Ewalt, Roz Serials Cataloger 268

Fahringer, Anita L. Librarian - Fairweather, Carol Employee Devel.Spec./Navy civlns. Faulkner, Kennette Technical/Computer Manual Production Fellows, Sally A. Teacher - High School History Feser, Teresa Information Analyst Forster, Bronwyn Librarian Foster, Natalie Bunter/Chemist Foxwell, Beth Dir., Am. Assoc.College/Chair,MALICE DOMESTIC Ltd. Franchi, Barbara Owner, The Nostalgia Factory, Boston, MA Franchi, Regina Structural Mechanic - U.S. Navy Aviation Frederickson, Kristen Arts History Professor Gail, Sally M. Opera Librettist Galentree, Geraldine Mgr.,Mystery Bookstore, Dallas TX Galvin, Marc Director of Student Affairs Garman/Gambytt, Cindy Lawyer Gentry, Frank Professor - Head of German Dept. Penn State Geoffrion, Kathryn Academic Librarian Gibson, Judy Botanist - Taxonomic info. @ Natl. Hist. Museum Gillette, Meredith Librarian - Director Girdner, Jaki Writer - Mystery Glasby, Jan Teacher - Australian College , H/S Glidden, T.J. P/T Secy/Desk-top Publisher, etc. Godin, Christine Librarian - author, actress, writer wannabe Goldberg, Lee TV Writer - Producer Goodykoontz, Vicki Programmer/database specialist Gordon, Carolyn Literature/Writing Teacher Graham, Julie Editor/writer at Law publisher(busn. & tax subj.) Graves, Jennifer Executive secretary Griffith, Thomas H. Pastor - Pre-published Mystery Author Grigsby, Lynne Computer Programmer/Analyst Grimes, Terris McMahan Senior Land Agent/Cal.State Dept.Water Resources Grisham, Trudy C. Teacher - English for gifted 6th thru 8th grade Gross, Helen Librarian - Public Gunsaulis, Judy Library Director - County Publ. Lib. Sys. W. Va. Hagstrom, Carla Librarian - DRA User Support, Info.Tech. Services Haines, Cheryl Budget Analyst - US Defense Logistics Agency Haldeman, Ruth Reference Librarian Hall, Alison Librarian - Head, Cataloguing, Carleton U., Ottawa Hansell, Peggy Associate Professor of Anatomy Hastings, Jane Certified Medical Transcriptionist Hawkins, Susan Administrative Asst./Editor Haynes, Elizabeth Librarian - High School, El Paso TX Hedelund, Karen Library Technician Heiss, Marilyn Independent Film/Video Editor/dba Little Diva M. Heliotis, Delaine N.J. Licensed Public Accountant Hershberger, Helen Public Librarian Hess, Joan Writer - Mystery Hilton, Susan Manager of Faculty Records @ Washington Univ. Hobbs, Leatrice Secretary - Chief Ordering Clerk Hoereman, Calvin Professor - Economics (Forensic/Expert Witness) 269

Hogye, Katherine S. Statistician - FDA Holliday, Liz Writer Hoorn, Cindy Professor - Toxicology/ Veterinarian Hopkins, Judith Librarian - SUNY@Buffalo Hornor, George Ann Retired Housewife Hornsby, Liz Writer/editor/designer Hubbard, Elizabeth Librarian, Director Hueting, Gail Librarian - Academic Huntington, Gail S/Kris Senior Researcher, Fellow/Child Develmt. Ctr. Hurt, Nancy Librarian Ingraham, Gary Educational TV Producer/Director Innocenti, Susan Librarian - Technical Serv. Dept.,Pub. Library Johnson, Ginger Writer - Novelist, unappreciated Johnston, Leslie Manager - Systems Department, Museum Johnston, Susan Computer Scientist Jones, Kathleen Editorial Manager for Books That Work Kahn, Nicole Software instructor, Tech.support Kalajzich, Pip Owner - Secretarial Serv./teacher/writer/Australia Kane, Patrice Librarian - Freelance writer, Fordham Univ. NY Karelson, Tina Assoc. Creative Director/Copywriter/Risdall Adv. Kegg, Janet Librarian - Amer. Assoc. for Advancmt. of Sci. Keith, Rhonda Writer/ Editor Kellogg, Becky Human Resources Mgr. for Software Co. Kendric, Cara Cataloger/ Medical Librarian Kennedy, Paula Attorney - Corporate/Northrup Grumman Kiker, Suzanne Librarian - Acquisns.,Resource Serv/U. of FL Lib Kirby, Connie Librarian - Govt. Documents at Oklahoma Kirk, Kathleen Teacher - Elementary School Kirk, Kathlynn Nurse - Administrator Kisner, Sandra Secretary - Cornell University Kitao, Kathy Associate Professor Klein, Laura Professor - Anthropologist, Native Americans etc Klein, Yvonne Translator (French ) Knight, Kathleen Professor - Psychology, Ret. Knowles, Mary Tyler Teacher - H.S. English / Dept. Head Kondelik, Marlene Administrator - Higher Education Kreitzberg, Tom NASA Cartologist Kristick, Laurel Librarian - Iowa State Univ. Kucow, Jane B. Mom - P/T Communications Consultant Kuilder, Gerrit Bookseller - Buy, sell New fict., Eng., Amstersdam Lachit, Carroll Writer - Mystery novelist & freelance Laird, Kimberly J. Librarian - Medical/technical services Lamb, J. Dayne Writer - Mystery Larsen, Tana Teacher, 5th grade, & Staff dev. trainer Larson, Craig Professor - Associate/English Larson, Leak J. Graduate Teaching Asst,Mediev Lit Laws, Christine W. Professor (adj.)/ Dir. of Human Resources Leclerc, Nicole Guidance Counselor - Quebec, Canada LeGree, Kevin Dean, Theological College at Emory University Lence, Joan Public broadcasting executive 270

Lending, Diane Professor - Business Information systems Licht, Ruth Educational Consultant Littlejohn, Beth S/E Editor/typesetter/graphic designer Loftin, Teresa Graduate student - Sociology Lord, Harriet Professor - Math, CA State Polytech Univ. Lowenberg, Darice L. Editor - Proposals, Reports, etc. Macdonald, Barbara Receptionist, Prince Edward Assoc. Comm. Living Mahood, Kristine Librarian - Young Adult Services/Editor, Newsl. Mann, Richard O. CPA - Internal auditor/writer for Computer mags Manning, Sue Computer Programmer for Apple Computer Margerum, Donna Program Coord. Truckee Mead. C.C. Reno Nev. Marien, Stacey Student - Library Science Marion, Phyllis C. Professor - Assoc., Law/ +Law Library Director Marotta, Bob Paralegal Marshall, Joanne CAD drafter Martin, Mary (Maude) S. Episcopal Priest Mason, Madeline Lawyer - former librarian Massey, Debra S. Asst. Director-Humanities Research Inst. U.of Cal. Matazzoni, Susie Librarian - Adult Services Mattes, Jane Psychotherapist Matthews, Bob Professor - Mathematics & Computer Science Maxwell, June Administrative assistant May, Donna Software Designer / computer network McBroom, Betty Teacher of the Deaf McDonough, Robert E. Teacher - English, Community College McGinn, Ann E. Lawyer - Real estate, ret./magazine editor McIntire, Marina Teacher - Dir.of Amer. Sign Language Program McLean, Shirley Library Administrator - SMU Mecifi, Kelly Librarian Meckley, Philip Doctoral student/ Dir. Christian Educ. Mertz, Janet M. Senior Programmer Mertzman, Lisa A. Chemistry Lab Manager/Mom Meyer, Dianne Computer Systems Analyst Meyerding, M. Jane Intl. Studies Program Coordinator Michalove, Sharon Administrator - History Dept. of U. of Ill. Mihalick, Jennifer E. Professor - Chemistry Miller, Ann Marie Director of Developmt McCarter Theatre Princeton Miller, Joan Anthropologist - College Professor, Montreal,Que Miller, Marty Grad. student in Education/Fitness consultant Miner, Jocelyn Telephone Co. worker, ret./grad.student,history Mink, Joanna Professor - Assoc./English Modrick, Sharon Librarian - Information analyst Mohrhardt, Susan Librarian - Youth Services Monay, Barb Teacher - High School English, RET. Mooradian, Dawn Physician - Family Practice Moore, Jan Helene Librarian - Elem. School Library Media Specialist Moore, Melissa Librarian - Circulation & Media Morgan, Casey Radio Producer for NPR Affil. Morrison, Sue Acquisition/Serial Librarian(Law) Mozzicato, Susan Biochemist - Senior Techn. Support Specialist 271

Much, Kathleen Editor - Writer/Academic books, behavioral sci. Mueller, Chris Librarian - Electronic Access/Online catalogs Mueller, Michelle Vice-President - Corporate communictns, admin. Mueller, Susan Instructor - Literature & Writing Murhardt, Susan Librarian - Youth Services Muus, Katy Teacher - English, Computers Muzychka, Martha Researcher - Writer/Editor/Potter, Newfoundland Myers, Chris Police Officer Neagley, Frances Nuclear Medicine Technologist Neighbors, Lucy Admin. Asst. - Faculty/LBJ Sch. of Pub. Affairs Nelson, Jennifer Editor - Episcopal Diocese of VT newspaper Newman, Sharan Writer - mystery Niedzielko, Georgia Lawyer - Asst. to Dean, Catholic Univ. Noone, Pat Instructor - Howard Univ., Washtn. DC Ochs, Dave Engineer - Software Design Olson, Margaret A. Librarian - Milwaukee Public Library Osborn, Ardis Librarian -Audio Visual Owens, Lise Senior Product Quality Specialist Ozinga, Connie Jo Public Library Director Panszczyk, Linda Legal writer/analyst (employee benefits law) Pardue, Diana Chief - Museum Serv. Ellis Island, Stat. of Lib. Pardue, Janis Library Technical Assistant Passmore, Denise Technical Writer for Nielsen (TV rating service) Patrick, Ann Librarian - Technical Assistant/writer Pendleton, Joan Freelance Editor Penprase, Catherine Librarian - Ret. Pentecost, Ann Librarian - Children's Acquis'ns./adult mysteries Perkins, Barbara Librarian - Administrator Persyn, Mary G. Librarian - Law Phillips, Diane Computer Operations Scheduler/Mt. San Ant Coll. Pierce, Loma C. Anthropologist - Physical/Forensic Polansky, Ellyn Administrator - NYU Law School Placement Pollach, Karen Librarian - Reference Pomidor, Bill Physician/Researcher - Now full-time author Power, Margo Editor/Publisher of Mystery Mag. & Regd. Nurse Power, Robert C. Professor - Law Powers, Kathy Librarian - Dir., Plasma Fusion Center, MIT Preussner, Alanna Academic Admstr., Truman State U. Primm, Denise Administr. Asst. - Tennessee Primary Care Asso. Probert, Barbara S. Licensed Psychologist Probert, Walter Professor - Law Quanbeck, Beth Marie Librarian - Library consultant, Des Moines IA Rackliffe, Patricia Registrar, Asst. - GA St. U. College of Law Radigan, Lee Operations Supervisor Rainwater, Kathleen Corporate Librarian Raphael, Larry Rabbi/Hebrew Union College Reddy, Maureen Professor - English & Women's studies/nf writer Reeder, Florence Software Engineer, Natl. Lang. Processing Reiter, Sara Professor - Accounting Reynolds, Patricia Museum Curator 272

Richey, Ann E. Librarian Richman, Phyllis Food Critic - Washington Post/Myst. writer to-be Robbins, Barbara Biochemist Robinson, Kara L. Librarian - Academic Reference Rockwell, Susan L. Director - Natl. Assoc. for Ethnic Studies Rodd, Laurel Rasplica Professor - Japanese Literature Rose, Liz Library Technician Rose, Susan Mystery Book Shop owner - Snoop Sisters Rosenberg, Robert Writer - Tel Aviv Rosenbusch, Bette Owner/Operator of small NJ manufacturing co. Roseneder, Jan Marie Librarian - Collections Rowlson, Dawna Librarian Ruda, Sharon Librarian - Consultant Rudd, Jody Programmer - Numerical Control/mfg Ryan, Caitlin Social Worker - Clinical, health/AIDS analyst Salinger, Sharon Chemical Information Analyst Sandifer, Bert Systems Engineer Santangelo, Elena Writer - Mystery/music composer & teacher Satyendra, Gita Librarian - Calif. Community College Saunders, Frances E. Intelligence Research specialist-US State Dept. Scherler, Renee Professor - Political Science Schmurak, Carole Professor - Education Sechrest, Sandy Librarian Sehy, Colleen Director-Grants& Res.Adm. Benedict College Seidman, Michael Editor - Mystery Shadforth, Jocelyn D. Professor - Asst./Political Sci.,Univ. Louisville Sheahan, Shelley Computer Network Designer Sheldon, Robert E. Editor - Nebraska Magazine, Univ. of Nebraska Shepard, Betty Programmer/analyst Shepherd, Kay Teacher - English Sickbert, Murl Librarian -Music Siebermorgen, Anne Manager - Asst./Gondrom Booksellers,Ausburg,Ger. Silliman, Floyd Lawyer - Criminal Trial Simonetta, Leo G. Professor College, Public Opinion Simpson, Terrance Archaeologist Smith, Barbara B. Writer-Mystery/Voice Talent/Corp. consult. trainer Smith, Helen Manag. Editor/Sociol. Book Review Smith, Julia Asst. Prof. of Education Smith, Sarah W. Writer/Webmistress/documentation designer Soos, Troy Research Physicist and P/T Writer Sprenkle, Elaine TV Program Director - WILL-TV, Urbana, IL Stedman, Peggy CPA Steele, K. Writer -Technical/Systems analyst Still, Dorothy Homemaker/Mom/Teacher's aid Streeter, Larisa Environmental Scientist Stybr, Denise School Psychologist/Mystery Writer Sutherland, Laurie Librarian Swanholt, Kathleen Technical writer - Mng. Ptr. of The HELP Key Swank, Karen Pet Sitter Sweeney, Leann Registered Nurse - Pub. Sch./author/mysteries 273

Swigart, Leslie Kay Professor - Librarian, Calif. State Univ. Tatem, Jill Archivist Tatum, Mary Jane Teacher - Elementary Education Taylor, Marcy Counselor - High School, Ret. Tepper, Edie Asst. to Dean - Simmons College, Boston Teter, Patricia Art Historian - The Getty Provenance Index Thomas, Graeme Senior Software Engineer Thomas, Steve Senior Software Engineer Thompson, Char Mail Carrier Thorn, Nancy Owner - Information research busn/HUNTER-GATHERERS Thurlo, Aimee Writer Thurlo, David Teacher - Science/ writer Thurman, Andy Lawyer - Bioethicist/Health System Timms, Kathleen Mother - Gardener, Writer Quebec Timpanaro, Pat Software technician - Writer Traeger, Harriet Librarian - fiction evaluator Trentacoste, Camille Production editor - Electronic design & layout Tripp, Nancy Jean Student - Elem. Ed./Develpmtly. Delayed adults Troy, Mark Coordinator, Evaluation Programs, TX A&M Tucker, Sara Professor - History Valance, Marsha J. Librarian /Storyteller/Morgan Horse Breeder Vargo, Margaret Evans Teacher - Second Grade Vassilakos-Long, Jill Librarian Villers, Anne Registered Nurse Wagner, Judith O. Librarian - Assoc. Dir. ERIC/ACVE Wall, Joan Administrator - College, Ret. Wallace, James Librarian Wanderer, Sara Systems Software Specialist Warner, Peggy Instructor - College/writer, mystery,free-lance Washburne, Nancy G. Librarian - Medical/Grandma Weaver, Carolyn Librarian - Medical, indexer Weston, Molly Editor - Newsletter/ Mystery reviewer Whitbeck, Luanne Geologist Whitehead, Gwen Teacher - English/High school Whitney, Jim Analyst Programmer - Veterinarian Whitney, Polly Writer - Mystery Whittaker, Deborah ? Wickeri, Janice Mng.Ed/Renditions Mag./Chinese Lit.Transl/HongKong Womack, Steve Writer - Mystery Wong, Mary Law Lecturer - Nat'l. Univ. of Singapore Woo, Kathy Librarian Wood, Jennifer G. University Credentials Evaluator Woodward, Charlotte Data Coord./analyst Marywood Coll Wozniak, Patricia Statistician - Statistical Consultant Wright, Ann Finley Attorney Yarbrough, Trisha Teacher - Amer. Lit., English Dept. Chair Yarnot, Jan Teacher - P/T Preschool/Kindergarten Yeager, Mary Teacher - Elementary School/Grades 2 and 3 Zagorski, Sara Librarian - Law Library Zeltmann, Bonnie Components Data Specialist (Ocean, radar & sensor) 274

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