This tack is indeed oddly refreshing, but it throws the development of the mystery a bit haphazard; a murder is committed rather offhandedly, folks in Pickax react for several chapters, Qwill shuffles off to Lockmaster to watch catch some steeplechase action, a lotta (very subtle) clues pop up all at once really quickly, the guilty party is confronted and caught, a few more things happen, The End. I'm being cavalier in my description - the way the clues are furtively hidden - the attention that must be paid to personal relationships - is admirable, but the development of the mystery isn't evenly integrated all throughout the plot; it all comes together so quickly that I did feel cheated. Braun almost makes it up, though, with the depiction of the late Hilary VanBrook; although he's clearly an egoistical tyrant and not likable in the least, the way he cleverly plays on the weaknesses of his associates up in Pickax to get his way - his manipulation of the power of pretense - is enviable; had the man written an Art of War-type business-strategy book, he would've made a mint (seems he'd already done that, though). Braun makes his egomania at least a tad understandable, though; he apparently wants to do something for the people, wants to mold them to create his own little pocket of perfection to give both them and himself a moment of glory, but, at the same time, he holds such disdain for their own capabilities - people just keep disappointing his high standards - that he's figured that it's best not to trust ventures to their bumbling, slipshod hands (and darned if he himself doesn't succeed every time). He's not up to the caliber of a Mountclemens, but VanBrook is captivating enough to hold center stage here; the way that, through searches through his home and conversations with those he knew, his character is developed after, not before, his death is neat, as is the ironic twist that the motives of the victim are more important than those of his assassins (but then, to that end, I have to question the addition of the Memoirs of a Merry Milkmaid red herring (after the mystery's resolution, no less). What was the purpose of throwing in this subplot, worthy of an entire investigation itself? To state that VanBrook is of dubious morality? That's already been established, and there are subtler, less confusing ways of enforcing the idea).
Ah, yes, did I tell you that the murder victim is a high school principal? A stroke of genius by Braun, because that's what Pickax, at its worst, is, really - one big high school. Who's going out with whom is still of paramount importance, as evidenced by Fran Brodie and Hixie's inelegant, intrusive probing of the troubles in Qwilleran and Polly's relationship ("someone saw you at Tipsy's on Sunday - with another woman, they said"). Dramatic divorcée Susan Exbridge, considering outlandish speculation that one of her close friends might be VanBrook's murderer, frets not about the tarnish on his reputation, not that a heinous crime has been committed, but that "it will reflect on me if he turns out to be a murderer!". When VanBrook commandeers the Theatre Club meeting and attempts to dragoon the members into producing Henry VIII (with himself as director and lead actor), do the actors gather together, call him on his bluff, and tell him to take a hike? No, everyone just goes along with what he says like sheep due to their reluctance and fear to make a scene and stand up to the man, more content to snipe at him behind his back and make commiserating "I can't stand the man" comments later on (a trait which, from personal observation, is common to herd instinct-inclined, peer pressure-sensitive teenagers). They're all still competing for parts in the fall play, for Pete's sake. I don't expect Moose Countians to change their ways anytime soon (read: ever), but it's nice to see it acknowledged how childish their behavior can be.
As piercing as that inspired insight is, though, some fans might argue that the most notable subplot of Knew a Cardinal - the one most pertinent to the series mythos - is Polly Duncan's apparent flirtation with a horse trainer named Steve while attending a wedding in Lockmaster. I say "flirtation" because, in true Braun fashion, we're not truly let in on the true specifics of what went on. We (and Qwilleran) are given several clues - we see multiple photos of her and Steve having a merry time together at the wedding. We know that impressing him means enough to her to dress up in uncharacteristically (for the time) flashy clothing, and she does stay over in Lockmaster an extra night for the express purpose of spending more time with him (and, upon her return, flatly tells Qwilleran to buzz off and not visit her for the rest of the day). She also receives a follow-up call from the man at her office the following day which, judging from her sunny "Well, good morning!", was welcome and semi-expected, and at least suggests (especially at the end of the conversation) that she wants to keep the lines of communication open between them (all this going on, by the way, right while Qwill's in Polly's office). These details become all the more troublesome when compounded with the fact that Polly never gives Qwilleran a shred of explanation for any of her (rather obvious) behavior - not only does she not bother to come up with the sort of "hey, no, it's not what it looks like" weak excuses one usually offers to one's loved ones when they happen upon an incriminating moment, she doesn't even consider him worthy of even a token dismissal. It's ironic that all the teasing talk of marriage is proffered in this title, for, were I Qwilleran, I'd be harboring considerable misgivings about whether or not I wanted to spend the rest of my life with such a person; hey, I'm about as feminist as they come, folks, but were it a man treating a woman like this, I'm sure there'd be a lot more calls of "mental abuse" (especially when paired with her possessive tendencies) and for Qwill to jump ship. For all of Polly's previous hyperactive jealousy, from her behavior here, I can only conclude that, ultimately, she is far less committed to the relationship than he.
Ahem. Other things. The idea of, the controversy surrounding, and the disaster that ultimately becomes the Tipsy look-alike judging contest is one of the funniest moments in the Braun oeuvre (and is good for a nice Qwilleran-Mildred let's-get-back-to-earth moment; dang it, why do I like seeing those two interact so much?). Grummy was a dignified, touching character, and, though she had no real connection to the plot, it's a shame that she didn't get more page time, as should have Koko's charming habit of bird-watching. I thought that Qwilleran's obsessive search for a copy of the bestseller he wrote was a bit overdone - it's rather jarring to suddenly infuse a reoccuring character with an all-controlling trait that he never had before, build it up to terrible importance, then resolve the conflict in the same installment and never speak of it again. To end with a non sequitir, The Cat Who Knew a Cardinal is kinda (maybe) like this review - strange and thrown-together, but you learn a lot of interesting stuff.
Back to the Ronald Frobnitz and Family homepage.