The Rules and The Cat Who Robbed a Bank

Well, it's been a while since we've seen one of these, hasn't it? I've actually been working on the next installment of these (2B) for quite some time now - actually since last summer, when small-but-annoyingly-semi-vital parts of it were lost in a computer crash. Trying to piece that sucker together has been one of the reson why so many of the C-pads have been so ungodly late. So - I know we're doing this out of order, but, frankly, at this juncture, I don't care. (For those completely lost, please see the start of the 2/7/99 C-pad to get filled in.)

1. The affair of the Delacamp murder was botched. What little we glean from gossip and hearsay of the man's eccentricities and eyebrow-raisingly peculiar means of doing business before his arrival is tantalizing (he then struck me as sort of a cross between Hilary VanBrook (in both his rich tastes and the way he manipulated Moose County's status-seeking-facilitated gullibility for his personal gain) and the Countess from Lived High), but we hardly get to meet or see the actual man before his death, so we're never given a chance to become invested in or further intrigued by his story. As it stands, he ultimately winds up as a half-defined, somewhat run-of-the-mill dishonest businessman, his potentially intriguing past explained away with one or two sentences about a suspicion-confirming yet disappointingly mundane previous lawsuit, and, well, as Brodie said, "when you operate like that guy, you're a murder waiting to happen" - so so such for victim empathy.

   The real victim here in my eyes was Boze, who had my complete sympathy throughout - a poor, good-hearted (yet tragically dense) schmo trying to make the most of his limited faculties and opportunities and hardly given a single break in life - except for one brief, Capanean moment of glory and popular adulation before life strikes him down for good. (Witness the first words out of his mouth in the car with Lenny - "Did it get in the paper?". Broke my heart. Poor guy; it shows how much he really wants to be loved.) You couldn't really term him an accomplice, since none of his actions (as his confession to Lenny, eerily, pathetically, and utterly lacking in self-awareness, displayed) harbored any malicious intent at all - he was tricked into the Delacamp murder by being led to believe it was a mercy killing (which, with him being a "mountain man", he wouldn't think much of - he'd probably equate it to putting down a suffering, mortally wounded animal). For Boze's sake, I desperately wanted the real criminal to be apprehended to defend/avenge him and thus spent most of the book screaming at the top of my lungs, "WHY DON'T YOU GO AFTER THE NIECE, YOU NITWITS?!?!". True, since she had fled cross-country, there wasn't much Qwill or anybody in Moose County could have done to physically chase after and personally apprehend her (though that didn't stop them from helping to track down Bruce Gow in Wasn't There, did it?), but for everyone to sit around twiddling their thumbs, "Gee, the gems're gone. Gee, the niece's gone too. Wonder if there's any connection there? Hm. Well, what's for dessert?", with no initiative to conduct any sort of organized investigation or apparent command of any powers of deductive reasoning whatsoever, is throat-throttlingly aggravating. (And, now that I think of it, Qwilleran didn't do all he could've in the shafthouse semi-confrontation with Boze, either; the old, true, fully-characterized Qwilleran - the truly compassionate listener and moving speaker - probably could've talked Boze down (telling Boze he understands the circumstances of his situation and that he's not at fault and maybe inviting him back to his barn (à la Aubrey Scotten in Said Cheese), perhaps invoking the fact that Boze could help prevent this woman from hurting any more people by talking, etc.).) I very much doubt that Boze would've gotten any sort of serious sentence for the killing, anyway; mitigating circumstances in the crime, such as Boze being under false pretenses when he suffocated Delacamp and Boze's limited mental capacities (probably partially the result of brain damage that resulted from Boze being left out in the extreme cold as an infant, a fact to which Brodie could testify), would have to be considered, and I'm sure that Boze would have many fine character witnesses come forth on his behalf (would anyone want to try to cross-examine Mrs. Inchpot?) - and that a Moose County jury would be reluctant to throw the book one of their local heroes. Add in a plea bargain to testify against the niece - I think the prosecutors would value testimony that would ensure getting a dangerous, murderous many-times-over-felon behind bars over jailing a first-time offender who didn't fully comprehend what he was doing and hadn't shown any previous violent tendencies - and you've got a lengthy period of probation (or some time at a work-release center) at worst. This situation did not have to end as tragically as it did.

   As a pure whodunit, it's no good - the clues are too plentiful, the solution too obvious, and the sleuths too dull-witted. Had they centered the crime-related part of the book instead around Boze's train of thought and motives, Lenny's dilemma, perhaps explored Delacamp's character more to flesh out his role in and add another facet to this tragedy, focused more and added more to that, they would've redeemed it through the human factor. As it is, though, Rule #1 only half-obeyed.

2. Zippo in this department. Qwilleran, while curious about Delacamp's business, was not suspicious, despite overwhelming evidence pointing to a shady operation, and, like everyone else, rather stupidly (sorry, but he was here) missed the "niece" matter altogether. The solutions to the mysteries he almost completely failed to notice were handed to him through confessions from Nora and Boze-via-Lenny. It was also Lenny who made the tough moral choices in the dilemma and deduced Boze's location, and Qwilleran, as mentioned above, was rotten support. Rule #2 thoroughly disobeyed.

3. Can a Rule's requirements be overfulfilled? The Brazil nuts! The paper-towel tantrum! The pencil-caber tossing! The shredding of Boze's photo! The Oedipus Rex book! The little Thornton-box "bank robberies"! (Was this last tidbit really necessary? Did we really need to rub salt in the wound of Qwill's father being a bank robber?) And let us not forget what is perhaps our feline maestro's most elaborate pantomime in the series to date, the burrowing underneath the hall carpet to simulate a miner's excavations, replete with wadded-gum-wrapper simulacrum of a chunk of unearthed ore. Applause. The (BIG) downside to this glut of clues was that an already all-together-not-too-intricate mystery was made extremely easy by all this hand-holding.

   The real pity on top of all of this is that Koko was almost non-existant as a character in Robbed a Bank, even though he appeared ridiculously frequently in his role as clue-dropper. ("Appeared frequently" is a misnomer, actually, since Koko drops more than half his clues when neither Qwilleran nor the narration is present, thus not "appearing" at those times at all.) He's only a plot device here, with no personality or dimension and only negligible interaction with Qwilleran. Rule #3 obeyed, but at what price?

4. Robbed a Bank's supporting charas were a mixed bag. As I said above, Delacamp was a missed opportunity, while Boze hooked my sympathies. Lenny did as well - Braun illustrated his dilemma and mindset throughout well, laid enough of a convincing foundation of long-term friendship between Boze and Lenny in both past history (the authentic touch of Lois's easy, mothering familiarity with the past childhood history of her son's best friend) and their behavior toward each other (Lenny chummily punching him in the shoulder upon his return, comfortably kidding him about his question on Brazil). Lenny's angst and concern or his friend, his desperate scrambling to try to both the right thing and right by Boze, was well portrayed.

   When he didn't have to contend with such a dilemma, Lenny was an agreeable, likable fellow, which is actually a double-edged sword; I enjoyed spending time with the guy, but the sudden absence for this book of the smart-aleck streak that marked his character was disconcerting. This is not to say that I ever thought Lenny to be a bad guy - just a good guy at heart who got a kick outta acting up (or at least having a reputation for acting up) once in a while. And I'm not arguing that Lenny shoulda been an unctuous wiseacre throughout - just that to find no trace of that trait in any situation here was odd and inconsistent character-wise. As it was, his "normal" disposition was very close to Derek Cuttlebrink's, and while that in itself would've been fine (provided that the proper groundwork had been laid character-wise beforehand for such a transition) had Derek never existed, it's hard not to draw distracting parallels with the case at hand.

   Which brings to mind an odd trend in Robbed a Bank: personality-switching. While Lenny was acting like Derek Cuttlebrink, Junior Goodwinter had assumed the gruff-editor old-friend-of-Qwill act of Arch Riker - and in turn, Junior's normal brash-yet-intelligent, cheerful persona seemed to have been adopted by newcomer Barry Morghan. And, in an instance of role- rather than personality-switching, new character Kirt Nightingale subs for Eddington Smith as resident Pickax bibliophilic literature expert (and I will take this opportunity to reiterate my plea to NOT drop the unique and quietly winning Eddington Smith in favor of this undistinguished Kirt fellow). Why do we need so many more new characters? Do Moose County supporting charas come with expiration dates? (If so, why can't we get rid of 'em by killing them off instead of letting them fade away into the background and homogenity? We'd at least then be able to milk a little drama and real feeling of loss from 'em - and mebbe provide the initiative needed to kick Qwilleran into high investigative gear for once lately.) Disturbing. Frustrating.

   I suppose we can count in Qwill's parents as supporting characters, since their tale was just another narrative within the main book. And what can one say about that affair - just a sad story all around. It's really just a Perils of Pauline-type melodrama, but it's well-done melodrama (though if Anne was the adventurous girl she was portrayed as being in her early letters, I question why she wouldn't prefer to go off and live the touring life with Dana and his theatre troupe rather than try to settle down in a homemaker's life so soon); my analytical faculties dissected all its emotional manipulation and sob-story clichés, but my heart was fully engaged while I was reading. (And I did admire Anne's persistence to give her child the best life she could in the face of her mounting hardships; that little snippet of a mention of her continuing to read to little Jamesy about King Arthur even as her world falls down around her and the sense of how she is determined not let family circumstances interfere with her child's life and the better and greater things he, as a human being and her son, inherently deserved - Anne's insistence upon dignity in the direst of circumstances - that the scene carried with it spoke volumes - the whole episode does add heft and depth to Lady Anne's character.)

   Polly. She was present here considerably more often than in most other books. I thought she was OK company for the times she was tagging along, but...well, the fact of the matter is that Polly isn't a character that in general's gonna rise above average/uninspiring circumstances or material, since she doesn't have much distinctive dimension to drive her character when devoid of any outside forces to act upon her.

   A small side note: Boze's mother Nora really irked me. I understand her past and present circumstances, but her whole big not-really-a-confession scene with Qwilleran turned me off completely; it seemed as if she was telling her tale not to work out past regret but rather to milk a wrong she committed against her own son for "woe is me, feel sorry for me" sympathy from strangers. Braun seems to be trying to equate her lack of education with utter innocence, but "illiterate" does not mean "nonsentient" - what exactly prevents an illiterate person from being as much of a self-absorbed SOB as the rest of us? Can we drop the Noble Savage idea of Nora? Thank you.

   We did have a lot of little great character moments. Bridget Borleston and her...*vigorous*...defense of her mine (a heartening contrast to all the insufferably delicate tea-party flowers). Homer's memories of going to the bank as a child (and, for that matter, his laugh-out-loud "maybe his just liked to read" line after the bookmobile theft. That capped off the oddness of the incident very nicely). Osmond Hasselrich's wishes for a dignified funeral. The proper lady-kitties all lined up on their individual windowsill perches, genteely and so studiously observing the goings-on about town below. Sig Dutcher, as generic a character as he otherwise was, thoroughly familiar with the casual little joys and sorrows of his "clientèle's" lives as any good ag agent gets to be.

   A considerable problem, though: the above precious little moments, along with much of the truly great material in Robbed a Bank, get lost in the shuffle of the book's meandering, disunified avalanche of...stuff. Despite the presence of more interesting stories and scenarios to explore, the narrative insists on training its utterly adoring and enamored eye on Qwilleran - who isn't overall real interesting or even good company this time around (more on that in Rule #5) - trailing along with him on self-indulgent, monotonous dinners & parties & meetings with the mundane Moose County elite, creating sort of a Lifestyles of the Rich and Unctuous. The book doesn't do justice to its best mateiral, and for this reason I am not comfortable with giving Robbed a Bank full credit for this Rule. Rule #4 only half-obeyed.

5. Though we filled in a good chunk of Qwilleran's vague past, we didn't truly get much in the way of character development (nothing positive, anyway). The main characterization issue of note, in fact, was Qwilleran's new and deproved attitude. He wanders around downtown with a novelty bank that snatches his friends' money and doesn't return it - encouraging them to use a higher denomination of coin than it needs all the while - and seems to revel in the joy of being "two dollars richer" when he leaves (while Qwill's thrifty, he's never been money-hungry). He attends one of those $300-a-plate, pseudo-altruistic charity dinners - not necessarily a horrid thing in itself, but the sight of Qwill...hobnobbing is a bit too close to pretentious showmanship than I'd like this particular character to exhibit. He's asked to speak at the meeting of a genealogical club, but he instead uses his podium to wander off-topic to a half-truth, self-serving sob story about his past (I couldn't help but mimic City Qwill's "Oh, brother!" reaction from Danish Modern to G. Verning Tait's similar woe-is-me tale at that one). In his very introduction on page 2, he assumes such a tone of overt contempt for others - rebuffing clerks' friendly attempts to make small talk about Delacamp's arrival with brusque brush-offs of "If you say so" and "Anything that helps the local economy" with no attempt at congeniality whatsoever. And his "whatever makes you comfortable" line in response to Lenny's tenuous, half-hearted yet desperate attempt to try to convince himself - to semi-try to get someone else to convince him - that Boze really did not shoot himself intentionally, trying to half-shield himself from the horror of the situation with something that at heart he plainly does not believe at heart (one of the most human moments of the series in my eyes), was the most callous thing I've ever heard in any of these books; the boy comes to him in dreadful anguish and emotional self-torture with what is an obvious cry for support and some sort of peace in this whole wretched affair, and all Qwilleran gives him back is "if you're so weak that you need to delude yourself, go right ahead, but don't bother me". Unforgivable for a character whose trademark trait used to be a willingness to listen. This is not the newsman I so took to Down Below, and, as I said in my review, if he continues with his present comptemptuous, self-absorbed disposition and demeanor, it'll be downright unbearable.

   So we turn to themes, of which I spotted two intended. First of all, there's the "folks without familial roots are prone to/headed for trouble" one exemplified by the orphan Boze's woes (and his primal reactions to those troubles - fleeing like cornered animal to the wilderness, etc.) and seeming lack of direction or connections in the world and the relation Braun appears to argue for between Qwilleran's alcoholism (and possbily bad husbandship) and his well-meaning but absent and prone-to-drink-at-bad-times father. (I'm personally not of the mind that alcoholism is a genetically inherited disease - I certainly think that children who grow up in alcoholic families learn by example, but Qwilleran never knew his father, so I don't believe that Qwilleran's previous tendency to turn to the bottle in times of trouble can be completely explained away by his father's habits. I know at least one fellow on the mailing list who'd argue against me on this issue, though, so your mileage on this theory may vary.) But this theme also seemed to serve as the partial groundwork for...something more. The seemingly cautionary, pro-family tales of Anne & Boze, the increased page time Qwill spends with Polly here, his visit to a group concerned with geneaology, a subject in which he had little prior interest, his "I have no relatives at all, and I'd gladly settle for a couple" comment to Rhoda & Homer (if I recall correctly, I believe he says something to Barry Morghan about this too) - perhaps it's just me, but with Qwill's recent yearnings for a family of his own in here, they seem to be setting the stage for a possible Qwill-Polly wedding series finale (which would make for an...I dunno, okay finish to everything, if that's indeed what Braun has planned, though it's not as if the whole or even a sizable part of the series was leading up to focus on such a wedding as its big conclusion. If the two did get married, it'd have to be the end of the series, though, since I don't see the mystery angle owrking as well with Polly a constant presence and Qwill part of a married couple - not enouh freedom to explore & investigate as he does). Then again, this might just turn out to be Robbed a Bank's equivalent of the I-hope-they're-not-setting-Qwilleran-up-to-get-a-dog worries Saw Stars spawned in some quarters, but...well, it's all just speculation in the end.

   The second theme seemed to address the danger of the the media abandoning an objective perspective and infusing their stories with hepped-up, excessive emotion to make them better entertainment and how it obscures the truth and nuance of a situation, as with Qwill's qualms about the coverage of Boze's caber-throw victory being over-the-top and going to his head and the Something's coverage of Boze's death - the articles' gentle, soft, he-was-only-a-suspect attitude, playing up the death-of-a-local-sports-hero angle and residents' sweet remembrances of him and firm "it coulda never been 'im" statements (with which the paper seems to implicitly sympathize) instead of his alleged crime - as in the Ephraim Goodwinter hanging in Talked to Ghosts, a "real killer" is never publicly implicated. The latter case was for the best, I think, though - there was nothing to be gained from framing Boze as a villain when he really wasn't, and though the stories contained precious little about the Delacamp killing, dragging the murder into it more than they did would sully Boze's name by association. Again, one of the few positive examples of Moose County taking care of its own. My, that wasn't an odd sidetrack of a theme? More like a couple of interlinked observations than a theme, really. Had more time been devoted to the issue, perhaps Braun could've elaborated on the nuances of the issue the differentiations between the two cases could've shed light on.

   And again we run into a glaring issue - themes only really work if they unify the work in some way. These themes did not unify - they were never given a chance to; they were so muddled in being mixed-in with all the other stuff that they lost their momentum. With the characterization being wildly uneven (wonderful stuff from Lenny & Boze, mostly bad stuff from Qwilleran, uninteresting stuff from a lot of Qwill's high-society friends, weird stuff from the personality-switched regulars), again, I can only extend half-credit here...

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