P. D. James and the limits of detective fiction

Does a book have to be a little boring to count as good literature? That is the strange division introduced at the beginning. Some critics exaggerate James's literary achievements; others tell her to stop reaching beyond crime fiction. Calling this a “false opposition” already suggests that our writer isn't satisfied with either camp. We need to watch for a position of their own.

Paragraph 2 fills in the two sides. James's admirers point to detailed characters, rich settings, and big ideas about morality and duty. Those sound like strengths, but we haven't yet been told how well she uses them. Her detractors think these ambitions get in the way of a detective story. Waugh wants a tricky trail that fools the reader; Oakes wants to get on with catching the killer. In plain English: enough of the other stuff—where is the crime-solving?

Keep those complaints attached to the critics. We aren't entitled to assume that the writer agrees with them.

Now paragraph 3 gives us an assessment. James can write very well, and her descriptions add pleasure and weight to the books. Then comes “But”: those same descriptions can interfere with the story. Imagine getting a wonderfully detailed tour of a kitchen when you want to know how the detective will solve the murder. The writing can be impressive while the placement and attention given to it create a problem.

The criticism gets more specific. Her devices for moving the story forward can be thin, and sometimes we cannot see how the detective reached the solution. Did we get a chain of clues, or did the detective simply have a flash of insight? The point isn't that James lacks talent. It's that her interest in the characters' inner lives seems to have overtaken her interest in the mechanics of detection.

So should she stop doing that and stick to the rules? “However” at the start of the last paragraph changes the direction. If the genre's rules restrict an interesting writer, why insist that she obey them? In her latest book, James leaves some ambiguity and spreads guilt beyond the murderer. That challenges the tidy resolution expected of traditional detective fiction.

This is more than a compromise between the two camps. The writer recognizes James's strengths and weaknesses, then uses them to suggest a next step: perhaps crime fiction has become too restrictive for what she wants to do. The final image of slipping out of handcuffs makes the recommendation clear. She should be free to develop those interests in a mainstream novel, rather than be told to shrink them to fit the detective formula.