Who doesn’t love a good mystery, eh? In the book publishing biz, in North America at least, we use that term for a specific story format: murder mystery. However, mystery is a broader concept. It covers anything that is secret, unexplained or unknown.
People can be puzzling. Places can be shrouded in myth. Events can have no obvious cause. Motives may be obscure. The past may be concealed, or the future uncertain. The truth of things sometimes is beyond our comprehension, and might even be altogether unknowable. That’s true of religious rites, say. In communion, the mysterious process of transubstantiation somehow turns bread and wine into a body and blood.
For storytelling purposes, though, there’s one thing to remember above all others: mysteries are fun. We as readers love to be intrigued, puzzled, and tantalized by unanswered questions. Mystery is a good effect in a story. What, though, actually produces the quality of mysteriousness? What makes us cling to a dissatisfying notion and read on, rather than feel frustration and give up on a book?
There are several foundational qualities in a mystery. First, an intriguing puzzle is presented. Not all puzzles arouse our curiosity, of course. Why evil people do evil deeds, say, mostly excites only those who study criminal and abnormal psychology. The rest of us are simply repelled. Intrigue, on the other hand, arises when there is an apparent contradiction. Something is evident and undeniable, yet at the same time cannot possibly be.
Second, the puzzle itself is intriguing to someone to an extent that demands action. In murder mysteries, that person is the detective. Third, the puzzle causes other characters to minimize or run away. Danger suggests avoidance, or at least caution. Fear is covered up by offering easy explanations, dismissing the puzzle (wrongly) as harmless, ordinary, or easily controlled, or possibly warning that the mystery is too dangerous to pursue. The mystery has magnitude and we know that because people deny it or affirm its harmful power.
Finally, the solution to the mystery is not easy to reach. Time and effort are required. Obstacles arise. There are those who do not want the mystery explained, having vested interests in keeping it unsolved. The mystery also presents a personal challenge to someone, possibly even a test. A mystery isn’t easy to crack, but when a protagonist is up to the task we are heartened, cheering and full of anticipation.
A mystery, to put it simply, keeps us reading when it is solvable by someone special but, for a while, seems like it isn’t.
Which story got you hooked on mystery? For fun, let’s first have a look at some of the stories most commonly cited by generations of readers, starting with Edgar Allan Poe’s progenitor tale The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841). An unnamed narrator, living in Paris, introduces us to a man of surpassing intuition and impeccable logic: C. Auguste Dupin.
After a long account of the circumstances of their friendship and a demonstration of Dupin’s deductive powers, Poe finally settles in to the gristly details of a double homicide in the Rue Morgue, where the crime scene presents apparent impossibilities, including a body stuffed up a chimney, a feat that would have required inhuman strength. The narrator performs the role of avoidance. When his opinion of the case is asked, he says:
I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the murderer.
Dupin, however, is unwilling to dismiss the case. He is, in fact, confident that his logic will win and is contemptuous of the police:
“We must not judge of the means,” said Dupin, “by this shell of an examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but no more.”
Dupin is correct, and goes on to solve the mystery using the brute force of logic. He thus fulfills the role of the one for whom the mystery cannot rest, who must struggle to solve it yet who ultimately finds the means.
The first case of Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective Sherlock Holmes—very likely the most popular character in literature—was A Study in Scarlet (1886). The form of the tale owes much to Poe. The narrator, Dr. Watson, first gives an account of the circumstances by which he came to share rooms with Holmes at 221B Baker Street. There follows a demonstration of Holmes’s acumen, which becomes even more evident when Holmes, accompanied by Watson, is called to a highly puzzling murder scene at Number 3, Lauriston Gardens.
There Holmes provides in astonishing detail a description of the murderer and his actions. A second murder follows and Homes again uses his unparalleled powers of observation and deduction to uncover the murderer’s identity. Throughout, the role of avoidance is fulfilled by Watson and the police, while the drive to discover the truth is abundantly evident in the casual, almost laconic, Holmes:
[Watson writes:] I have seen death in many forms, but never has it appeared to me in a more fearsome aspect than in that dark grimy apartment, which looked out upon one of the main arteries of suburban London.
Lestrade, lean and ferret-like as ever, was standing by the doorway, and greeted my companion and myself. “This case will make a stir, sir,” he remarked. “It beats anything I have seen, and I am no chicken.”
“There is no clue?” said Gregson.
“None at all,” chimed in Lestrade.
Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling down, examined it intently. “You are sure that there is no wound?” he asked, pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all round.
“Positive!” cried both detectives.
“Then, of course, this blood belongs to a second individual–presumably the murderer, if murder has been committed. It reminds me of the circumstances attendant on the death of Van Jansen, in Utrecht, in the year ‘34. Do you remember the case, Gregson?”
“No, sir.”
“Read it up–you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before.”
By now a bit of the mystery of mystery’s appeal should be clearing up. Have you deduced the solution? The intriguing paradox or impossibility comes first, for sure, but it is not that alone which makes a mystery exciting. What does that are the characters, who amplify both our puzzlement and our sense of defeat as well as our confidence and our hope. Characters embody those twin states in each of us, and both are needed for mystery to grip us.
The first Nancy Drew mystery by “Carolyn Keene” (a house pseudonym) was The Secret of the Old Clock (1930). Nancy, “a pretty girl of sixteen”, is presented in plain terms as a person of confidence and curiosity. (I am quoting here from the 1930 edition, rather than the—to my mind, clunky—rewrite of the 1950’s.)
There was something about a mystery which aroused Nancy’s interest, and she was never content until it was solved. More than once her father [“noted” attorney Carson Drew] had found her suggestions, or “intuitions” as he called them, extremely helpful.
The Secret of the Old Clock concerns the will of a rich but eccentric gentleman, Josiah Crowley, which appears to leave the entirety of his fortune to conniving relatives, the Topham family, with whom he briefly resided. Nancy is indignant at the prospect, feeling that Crowley’s money ought to go to poorer and more deserving relatives.
Nancy dislikes the Topham family, whom she regards as social climbers, and pesters her father about the possibility of a second will. The possibility exists, but Carson Drew dampens his daughter’s expectations:
“Perhaps he hid the will somewhere,” Nancy suggested thoughtfully.
“If he did, I’m afraid it will never come to light. The Tophams will see to that.”
“What do you mean, father?”
“The estate is a considerable one, I understand, Nancy, and the Tophams don’t intend that anyone shall get a cent of it. It’s my private opinion that they will take care that a second will is never found.”
“Do you mean that if they discovered the will they would destroy it?”
“Well, I’m not making any accusations, Nancy. But I do know that Richard Topham is shrewd, and he isn’t noted for his honesty.”
“Can’t the present will be broken?”
“I doubt it. While I haven’t gone into the case, I am of the opinion that the Tophams have a legal right to the fortune. It would cost considerable to contest the will, and so far as I now the other relatives are in poverty. They have filed a claim, declaring that a later will was made in their favor, but I doubt that the matter will ever go further.”
“But the Tohams don’t deserve the fortune, father. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“No, it isn’t fair. But it is legal, and I’m afraid nothing can be done about it.”
By now you see the pattern, which reflects our own inner condition as readers. Courage and caution war within us. An outward event with an intriguing aspect puzzles and excites us, but also makes us wary and possibly fearful.
Thus, for a mystery to feel mysterious and to grip—rather than repel—us, it’s not enough to simply to present an intriguing impossibility. People must be involved: people who both take up the challenge of solving the puzzle, and others who caution against it. The quality of mysteriousness arises not just from facts, but from the psychological amplification of the exciting and dire effect upon us of the unknown.
What, for you, makes a good mystery? Do you have favorite stories that involve puzzles other than murder?
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About Donald Maass
Donald Maass is president of the Donald Maass Literary Agency. He has written several highly acclaimed craft books for novelists including The Breakout Novelist, The Fire in Fiction, Writing the Breakout Novel and The Career Novelist.
Love this post, Don! It explains my current obsession with Columbo reruns. In those dramas, the viewer is in on who committed the murder but the mystery – the intrigue – lies in how Lt. Columbo uses logic and cunning to solve the case.
BTW, I’m working through the plot of my current WIP – still a bit of a mystery to me – by doing the exercises in The Emotional Craft of Fiction. Unlocking some key character development along the way!
See you in Salem!
Columbo is a great twist on the murder mystery format: We know whodunit, the mystery is how dogged, rumpled Det. Columbo will finally prove it. The murderer is often his own undoing, too. Love it.
See you in Salem!
Exceptional mystery in itself, how you would unravel the mystery of mystery stories! Well done, Donald! Esp liked the lineage history ending w/Nancy Drew as the thread :)
Columbo is a great twist on the murder mystery format: We know whodunit, the mystery is how dogged, rumpled Det. Columbo will finally prove it. The murderer is often his own undoing, too. Love it.
See you in Salem!
Elementary.
Hey Don – I’d just like to congratulate you for using (*does the math*) 178 years worth of examples in this post! Whoa. You’ve gotten me thinking about how much mystery plays into the page-by-page work we do, regardless of genre.
Thanks for reminding us what a venerable calling we all heed, and for which we aspire to worthiness. Congrats to all of the Carolyn Keenes, too, for upholding the tradition.
While I may be bound by legal confidentiality, it may be that I have be lucky enough to have had a wonderful working relationship with a certain venerable girl sleuth.
She has not only inspired generations of girls, but boys too. We owe her so much.
The unanswered question keeps me reading mysteries. In DISCLAIMER, a woman finds a book at her bedside (creepy or what?) and discovers the story is about her even though she never told anyone about it. I devoured the book to find out what happened to her all those years ago.
I wonder if that’s why we accept unlikable characters in fiction. In those cases, maybe the overriding question wins.
Good mysteries entice readers to run through a maze of intrigue while facing twists, turns, and dead ends. Our hero won’t rest until they uncover the truth despite the naysayers who cling to their shirttails in an attempt to hold them back. Like you’ve taught us in The Emotional Craft of Fiction, readers need tension and conflict.
Thanks for sharing!
Disclaimer by Renee Knight? How have I missed that one! It’s now on my reading list. Thanks!
My love of mysteries and the mysterious began with Encyclopedia Brown and Trixie Belden when I was a kid, proceeded to Gothic romance writer Victoria Holt, drifted into thrillers like those by James Rollins and back to cozy mysteries in my later life. In my mind, puzzles drive a good story, whether the protagonist is trying to solve a murder, identify a thief and return property to it’s rightful owner, prevent conspiracies, or determine what the truth is of any given situation. Deception being routed out in the end brings justice to the world. :D
I’d never thought about the person who tries to hold the problem-solver back, but now that you’ve mentioned it, you are totally right! What an easy way to develop that conflict in a mystery, giving a voice to both sides of inner struggle. Definitely a technique I’ll be using! Thanks!
Mysteries are not in nature–nature knows everything that we do not. Mysteries are in our minds, and yet our minds are not set. Our minds are both curious and afraid in equal measure.
Hey Don
One element I love in supernatural mysteries is when characters have their worldview shattered by the plot and then are forced to cope.
“That odd Buick was irrefutable. It was part of the goddam scenery, sitting right there at the pumps. Except by the time the county tow showed up to haul it away, neither Ennis Rafferty nor Curtis Wilcox believed it was a Buick at all. By then, they didn’t know what it was.”
-From A Buick 8, page 53
Stephen King is the master.
Thanks, Don, for focusing on one of my favorite guilty pleasures. Somewhere in my late teens I picked up an Agatha Christie mystery and was hooked. Read all of them (70 or so?) as fast as I could lay my hands on them, then was bummed to find out she was dead and I’d used them all up so quickly. I moved on to the Nero Wolfe mysteries by Rex Stout and have been reading mysteries ever since. My favorite lately was “The Magpie Murders.” And you can’t beat the twist on page 75 in “I Let You go” by Clare MacIntosh. It will make you gasp.
Why feel guilty? Mystery has been fundamental to storytelling since the campfire.
Also, thanks: Clare MacIntosh is now on my list!
I loved this post! I think maybe I enjoy mysteries so much because the questions CAN be answered, the mysteries solved (even though in the best ones, there is something left undefined and unfathomable). What about the Victorian detective novel Wilkie Collins’ “The Moonstone,” which is psychologically complex and innovatively structured? One of my favorites.
Oh, agreed!
Mr. D! I’m going to recommend this as required reading for everyone at the Book Passage Mystery Writers Conference in August.
When I’m teaching the various subgenres — Mystery, Crime, Thriller — I usually say, “If you like puzzles, write mysteries. If you like competitive sports, write crime. If you like rollercoasters, write thrillers.”
What I love about this post is your unique view of the puzzle, which is both broader in terms of thematic scope and yet at the same time more personal. Puzzles are fun. But puzzles that move us to keep turning pages must in some way touch upon what it means to be a living human being–to fear and to question and to care.
You also pinpoint the trigger for the detective’s willfulness, the inner state of unease, the sense of an imbalance, the need for truth or justice or mere safety and the knowledge that establishing such things will be not just difficult but dangerous.
Can’t wait to see you in NY for ThrillerFest. Very pleased you are once again doing “Your Thriller isn’t Thrilling,” which is one of the most insightful presentations I have ever seen.
Aw, thanks pal. See you next month.
Hi Don, I appreciate you delving deeper into mystery. I’m intrigued if I’m drawn into a story by the strange things that happen. I want to experience them with the main character.
Hi Don,
Thank you for this post. You had me at Nancy Drew, my namesake and the character who hooked me on reading as a young girl. I have 60 of those books still stored in my parent’s garage.
Your insight is very timely for me as I revise my WIP. My protagonist is searching for the son she walked away from as an infant. Initially, I had her waiting passively for someone to give her the information she needed. Your advice reinforced my belief that she needs to take up the challenge to solve the puzzle while her recalcitrant mother and brother caution against it and put up obstacles. That’s where the tension lies!
You’re always right on time.
Thank you,
Nancy
Growing up, I devoured the Dick Francis mysteries. What struck me was the personal element of solving crime. Francis’s many and varied protagonists were motivated by a personal sense of justice. They or someone they loved had been wronged, and they were out to set things right.
I guess my favourite book, Pride & Prejudice, has a mystery that doesn’t involve murder. It has the mystery of Darcy’s personality. He presents as awful, arrogant and mean, and yet his close friends, Bingly and Colonel Fitzwilliam, are good, kind men. Elizabeth slowly discovers Darcy’s true colours, and the cause of them being concealed when she first met him. I’d never really considered it a mystery, but I always enjoyed it’s resolution.
I remember reading every Nancy Drew mystery that I could get my hands on. My BFF and I would sit on each side of her mother in the rocking chair and we would take turns reading a Nancy Drew book. It was a ritual with us. That is what got me hooked on reading mysteries. Then I discovered Agatha Christie. She is who made me want to write them. My favorite reading these days are psychological thrillers. Thank you for the insight of all your posts. This one is particularly helpful as I work on my first novel, a historical mystery from the Old West.
Oh, what perfect timing! This was worth a solid single-spaced page of notes.
I never did lay hands on a Nancy Drew when I was in the right age bracket, but I read every Hardy Boys I could get my hands on. My favorite mystery author lately is Martha Grimes, although it’s the characters and delicious prose that are the draw for me — I can never make heads or tails of her murder cases before Melrose and Jury do!
I was initially fascinated by the set up to the murders in Poe’s, ‘Murders in the Rue Morgue’, in particular because the circumstances seemed impossible. That’s the trick of the mystery. However, I was disappointed by the solution. Quite suddenly, Poe introduces the escaped Ourang-Outang.
The additional detail of how the horrified animal owner unlocked and re-locked the window was interesting for its mechanical peculiarity – Poe would have made a good magician.