In an Established Genre, an Uncomfortable Fit

It’s impossible to put Harry Potter out of your mind when you pick up Cuckoo’s Calling, J.K. Rowling’s newest novel. And because it’s impossible to shut out the splendor of the wizarding world, it’s difficult not to hope for the same, whether in Rowling’s depiction of London or her chronicling of the mystery of a super model’s death.

While Rowling writes with the same attention to witty detail and character development, she can’t package it right to raise Cuckoo’s Calling to the same level as the Harry Potter series. The issue with the detective genre is that getting the plot right and the narrative right is essential. And the problem with Rowling’s account of Personal Investigator Cormoran Strike’s attempts to solve the murder is that it doesn’t quite fit the detective story dimensions.

A reader of Doyle and an avid watcher of the great British detective series, Inspector Morse, Inspector Lewis, Sherlock, and now Endeavor, I know the basics of the typical detective narrative.

Of course, you cannot give away the killer. But you also cannot leave the reader clueless, lost in a sea of details.  Unfortunately, Cuckoo’s Calling drags, as Strike interviews every single character that had anything to do with the death of the model, Lula Landry. Furthermore, while it appears that Strike is getting it, the reader is left frustrated at our hero for sharing all his thoughts—save anything having to do with who the culprit really is.  As other reviewers have pointed out, Rowling paints a vivid picture of everything from movie sets, to women’s clothing. But this level of detail can be frustrating after 300 pages of wondering where the heck the plot’s going. Minus one for Cuckoo’s Calling.

A detective story also has to have an entertaining dynamic between the detective and the sidekick. And Cuckoo’s Calling succeeds here. Strike’s sidekick is his sharp, pretty temp, Robin. Strike’s interesting background (ex-military and also brilliant, bastard child of famous rock star), combined with Robin’s recent engagement, lift their interactions out of banality. What could have been a boring, boss-secretary relationship becomes more interesting as Robin immerses herself in the case and helps Strike through his own personal problems.

Finally, a detective story has to be believable. Cuckoo’s Calling gets a check here. Both the psychology and the execution are interesting. Combined with Strike’s relationship with Robin, the ending makes Rowling’s latest a worthwhile read.

With Harry, Rowling was able to create a world of her own. The reader took great delight in the details she created. We wanted to know the flavors of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. We enjoyed the banter between Fred and George. The books could have been each another hundred pages and I would probably have downed them all the same.

But it’s different in the detective genre, which has a well-defined style and comes with a different set of expectations concerning pacing and style.

Whether by a memory charm or by imagining that Rowling has taken some Polyjuice Potion to become an Afghanistan veteran, take the book off the shelf and the pedestal and things will turn out okay.

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