I’ve never been much of a fan of mystery novels, though paradoxically I do love a good mystery story. I tend to get frustrated while the author pushes me forward from plot point to plot point, promising something big but never delivering much more than the resolution of whodunit.
I came to Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories with a healthy dose of skepticism. Though I’ve enjoyed Atkinson’s stories, I was unsure of what she would do with the tropes of detective fiction, a genre that I generally don’t derive a lot of satisfaction from.
So imagine my surprise, given G—‘s erratic sleep schedule of late, as I found myself giving up precious zzz’s to finish chapters before turning out the lights. And not, as you might expect, to continue careening toward the next plot twist. For all that it has to do with grievous crime, Case Histories is a quieter novel than that. Instead, I found myself more interested in the ways Atkinson unveils the effects of loss over time. Sometimes she gives us the details with the cold gaze of a forensic examiner; other times with a subtle suggestion that often breaks your heart. Although some characters are drawn with the broad strokes of genre, each gives at least a glimpse of human truth, and those glimpses are the novel’s compulsive secret.
In my opinion, at least one (perhaps two) of the “case histories†in the novel’s title seemed superfluous, and only existed to bring the other plot threads closer together. Nevertheless, I was drawn in by Case Histories, and felt real grief for many of the novel’s characters.
Case Histories is one of those novels that feels like it was put in my hands at this exact moment for a reason. I experienced a deep loss of my own while reading this novel, and I cannot say for sure that I didn’t keep reading to see how Atkinson’s characters dealt with their own tragedies. In that sense, then, Case Histories achieves one the form’s greatest outcomes: to show one how others live life.
I mustn’t be the only one who feels this way. Before posting this I looked up The Guardian’s review:
I suspect that this is one of those protean novels that will resonate differently according to its readers’ own private tragedies: some will find the painful core of the book in the story of the lost sister, others will focus on the grief of the father for his child. Others still will take comfort from nice-guy Jackson and his drive to bring restorative truth to the wounded. But everyone who picks it up will feel compelled to follow Case Histories through to the last page - and not just for closure.
