Well, gosh. After a sparkling beginning in January,
February fell in a bit of a heap. In my defence: WEATHER. For about
half of February, I had no energy for anything beyond staring vacantly
at a television screen. So I only ended up reading two books this month. I’m back into reading now after
that heat-related slump, so hopefully my list will be more impressive at
the end of March.
I read this a few years ago but because I have the memory of a goldfish I can read crime novels every couple of years and not remember the story. I wish I'd remembered this one though, because it was crap. This is probably her worst book - the obvious suspect at the beginning who seems way too obvious turns out to be the killer for a ridiculously convoluted reason that doesn't even really make sense. Spoiler alert: don't bother.
This book is about 20 years old and crops up in
‘100 Best Blah Blah Books’ type lists all the time, but I never had any
interest in it before, as the little I knew about it (old timey
detective novel) didn’t appeal to me. Then a few weeks
back I was reading an article about Lucien Carr (member of the Beat
Generation and BFF of Jack Kerouac), in which it was mentioned that
Caleb Carr is his son. I had a mild obsession with the Beat Generation as a
teenager – I devoured biographies about all of them,
and attempted (and failed – lord, a lot of it is garbage) to read their
actual work, so anything related to this group of fascinating weirdos
piques my interest. Hence my sudden decision to read The Alienist, a
book which has nothing at all to do with the
Beat Generation. But that’s just how my brain works.
The story is one of early forensics – Teddy
Roosevelt, then the Police Commissioner of New York, asks two of his old
college friends to discreetly investigate the murder of a child prostitute
in 1896. The two men – a brilliant psychiatrist looked
on with suspicion by the public for his innovative ideas, and the
police reporter who is telling the story – realise very quickly that the
murder is in fact one of a series, and off on the trail of a serial
killer they go. The book is incredibly detailed about
the methods of investigation they use – there are pages and pages
outlining the brainstorming sessions the two have with the crew they
have assembled to help catch their killer, along with long explanations
of what were then virtually unknown forensic methods
like fingerprinting and criminal profiling. In lesser hands it could
have been a really boring book, but I found it fascinating – and not
only am I not generally fascinated by anything to do with serial
killers, but I side eye people who proudly state that
they are (that’s a rant for another day). I think the distance of time
helps – an olde worlde (fictional) crime – even one as shocking as this –
is much more palatable to read about than a more recent one. But I also
found the painstaking detail of how forensics
came to be used in the solving of crimes back in ye olden days and how
it was looked on with suspicion very interesting. Caleb Carr is a
historian, and it shows – the man has obviously done his research.
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