Now considered one of English Literature’s greatest
writers, it only stands to reason that more than a few people lament she had
not published as many novels as Stephen King. Then again, it is, possibly, that
want for more that has risen Jane so high in our imagination. P.D. James is one
such person. This comes as a bit of a surprise, given her fame as a mystery
writer. But what one writes and what one reads and loves need not be the same. That
may be a good thing. To read what one writes might haunt her, with bits of
other crime novels creeping into her own, unexpectedly.
P.D. James has only written two novels (as far as I’m
aware) that are not crime fiction. The first was Children of Men (1992),
a rather chilling near-future SF novel, the other Death Comes to Pemberley
(2011).
Death Comes to Pemberley is a continuation of Jane
Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, set six years after its events. It’s a pastiche,
but also a Georgian mystery novel. (Excepting her Children of Men, it
would appear that her apple does not fall far from her tree.) Events begin when
Captain Martin Denny and George Wickham are passing through a wooded area of
Pemberley, when Denny calls for the carriage to stop, he leaps down and runs
into the wood. Wickham chases after him. The coachman hears shouts, but
horrified by the cries, does not run into the wood. He raises the alarm, and Mr.
Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam discover Denny’s bloodstained corpse, Wickham
beside him, confessing the death is his fault.
An investigation follows. Then a court case. I’ll leave
out the rest. You know: spoilers.
P.D. James received generally favourable reviews for her
effort. Some were wildly enthusiastic.
I found the book an altogether enjoyable read. Those
characters from P&P are true to Austen’s original; and I’ll hazard that
P.D. James did her homework concerning English law of the period. But I’m not
wildly enthusiastic about this book. It contains a healthy dose of deus ex
machina, followed by lengthy denouement. The book fails, in that regard.
If you are unfamiliar with those terms, deus ex machina (god
in the machine) is a plot device where an unsolvable conundrum is brought to
resolution by an unexpected, or unlikely, occurrence. Denouement occurs after
the climax of a novel, where all the dangling strands are drawn together.
Consider Hercule Poirot unfolding a mystery by lengthy exposition. Too long a denouement
generally points to the author either weaving an unsolvable narrative, leaving
out details, or being so oblique in pointing to crucial clues so that the
reader could not possibly solve the mystery. (I should not be so dishonest in
using Poirot as an example; one must read Agatha Christie carefully; she is
never so perfidious; the clues are there, but you must be an industrially
observant reader to catcher her out: her most crucial clue may only be a
fragment of a sentence.) These days, such practice is generally frowned on. It
leaves a bad taste in readers’ mouths.
Is this novel worth your time? That depends: Are you a
Jane Austen fan? Do you love novels where contemporary authors revisit, or
carry on, the narratives of others? (I have: early Star Trek novels. Long ago. Before
the glut. But only those concerning the original series. But that’s another tale.)
If you do, you will likely love P.D. James’ Death Comes to Pemberley.
I found it lacking because of that deus ex machina.
