The Best American Mystery Stories 1998

Introduction

This collection of short fiction might more properly be labeled the “Best American Crime Stories of 1998.” Regardless of the angle of attack, all of these stories feature crime in some form, either as the central driving force or as the anchor for other, sometimes disparate, elements. Certainly, the mix includes many stories constructed along the lines of the classic mystery, but there are unconventional approaches to the subject as well. In reviewing the many fine submissions, we were impressed with the ingenuity employed by writers whose styles and stratagems ranged from the formal to the offbeat. Almost without exception, crime here is the metaphor for human beings in distress, and violence, whether actual or implied, provides the compression chamber for the resolution of interpersonal hostilities.

These stories are exquisite studies in the complexity of human nature. Whether told from the point of view of the criminal, the victim, or representatives of law enforcement, each story touches on a facet of evil and, by implication, sheds light on its counterpart, good. Stanley Ellin has defined the mystery story as “short prose fiction that is, in some way, concerned with crime.” This definition, while serviceable, scarcely speaks to the varied techniques these writers utilize to achieve their effects.

The construction of the crime story requires the establishment of a world easily recognizable to the reader. Whatever the parameters of this fictional universe, the reader must, early on, accept its reality, regardless of how alien it may seem to the reader’s own. From the moment of this connection, the reader is led through a dark and tangled wood to the light of revelation on the other side. At the end of the journey, the reader has experienced a shift in perception… the ahh! of understanding that gives a story its impact. It is the marvel of the short story that it can accomplish so much in so few words.

Ross Macdonald once said: “An unstable balance between reason and more primitive human qualities is characteristic of the detective story. For both writer and reader it is an imaginative arena where such conflicts can be worked out safely, under artistic controls.” Crime is the battering ram that breaches our defenses, forcing us to acknowledge how vulnerable we are. Given the daily newspaper accounts of crimes committed in cities across America, we’re forced to construct a wall of denial around us in order to keep functioning. How else could we dare to venture forth from day to day? Murder, assault, robbery, gang violence, muggings, random freeway shootings… these are the threats to our personal safety, dangers we must somehow find a way to keep at arm’s length.

Crime fiction is the periscope that permits us to peer over the wall without having to deal directly with the horror beyond. The crime story allows us to scrutinize the very peril we’re afraid to face. At the same time, crime fiction seduces us into acknowledging aspects of ourselves that we might prefer to repudiate. Through crime stories, we can wear the mask of the killer without risking arrest and conviction. Through crime stories, we can experience the helplessness of the victim without suffering real harm. Thus, the writer’s imagination authorizes an examination of the felonious outer world and our own concomitant emotional transgressions without compromising our humanity or surrendering our staunchly held moral views.

The stories in this collection serve as a seismograph, charting the effects of violence on the world around us. Sometimes what’s recorded is a brutal upheaval of the visible landscape, sometimes a subtle tremor occurring far below the surface. With the crime narrative, there is always the tension of not quite knowing when the next eruption will occur. Where suspense is created, we find ourselves subject to a heightened awareness, our comprehension of events distinctly sharpened by dread. Ordinary people are seen with extraordinary clarity. Extraordinary events are reduced to their baser components: greed, rage, jealousy, hatred, and revenge.

Since the biblical moment in which Cain killed his brother, Abel, we’ve seen the reflection of our Shadow side in the stories we tell. What can be darker than the taking of human life? What more illuminating than such a tale brought to consciousness? We’ve always been attracted to the sly charms of the crime story. Look at the list of best-sellers in any given week. Of the top ten best-selling books, close to half are devoted to crime and mystery. The form may vary from the legal thriller to romantic suspense, from the hard-boiled private eye to the police procedural, but the appeal is the same.

“Crime doesn’t pay,” or so the old saying goes, yet watching a fictional character violate the law is irresistible, not necessarily because we wish such misfortunes on our fellow humans, but because, through reading, we can watch the perpetrator’s destiny unfold without penalty to ourselves. Watching others get caught gives us the delicious sensation of our own safe delivery from our inner lawlessness. Crime fiction, like a report of political chicanery, allows us to identify with evildoers while we cling to our innocence, stoutly maintaining our disapproval of such behaviors. We can safely condemn offenses we might (with sufficient temptation or provocation) be capable of committing ourselves, staying a comfortable distance away from our own blacker aspects. A crime story allows us to plead “not guilty” to the sins of any given character. He was caught, and we weren’t. She crossed the line, while we remained on the side of right. Fiction points the finger at someone other than ourselves, and we feel giddy with relief. How else can we explain the universal fascination with trials and public executions? We want to see justice done… to someone else. We like to see the system work as long as it isn’t operating at our expense.

From the lowliest of criminals to the loftiest of public figures, retribution seems to catch up with every miscreant eventually. And nowhere is iniquity, wrongdoing, and reparation more satisfying to behold than in the well-crafted yarns spun by the writers represented here. While we’re plunged into the darkness by their skill and imagination, we’re simultaneously reassured that we are safe… from ourselves.

Sue Grafton