Oh, Little Town of Death-lehem
Christmas and holiday décor is just too tempting for a writer to resist when it comes to metaphorical imagery in scenes set during the festive season. Too many possibilities exist that can be used as shorthand for things like character description and self-reflection:
“On Christmas Day they gave a party…She had on a shiny red dress. She was like the bow on a present, too pretty to throw out. The heavy beads around her neck like a noose.”
Visceral Emotionalism
A man finds his wife dead in a particularly gruesome manner and if he is the killer he had better be prepared to drum up the proper emotional response. By proper, of course, is meant that response which unimaginative police officers believe is the one and only allowed emotional reaction. If George is rehearsing for the arrival of the cops, he’s very, very good:
“Then I found her and she—
A sound erupted from his belly, a kind of guttural hiccup, and he let the words gush out like puke.”
Flashback
The timeline of this novel is a bit erratic starting from the beginning which is actually nearer the end but is not exactly the precise end. Moving backwards and forwards in time to convey events in a non-linear fashion is directly reflected in one of the specific metaphors introducing a flashback:
“The river moved like a great conveyor belt, but you couldn’t compare it to the ocean. Growing up on the Sound, with its compelling current and trickery, had made George a capable sailor.”
Law Enforcement Absolutes
The worst thing that can ever happen to future of victims of crime is for there to be two similar crimes occurring close together committed by two different people of almost identical psychological makeup. Once police see a pattern between two crimes, it is set for the next ten-thousand occurrences. There just seems to be something about the cop’s mind that has a solid propensity for seeing patterns and refusing the potential for anything else:
“An ax killing is no ordinary homicide. It’s a crime of the spectacular, a performance. Staged, deliberate.”
It may just be possible—sometimes, on occasion—that an axe just happens to be the most handy and useful implement of death. That is a possibility.
A Can of Keith
The perspective of the highly educated, literate, and mentally disturbed George Clare affords the greatest opportunity for memorable metaphorical imagery. One of the most idiosyncratic is his unique reading of a bland fellow with the appropriately bland name:
“Her husband, Keith, just sat there on the ottoman. A red-faced laborer, he would look at George with a confused expression on his face, as if he required a translator. He was like a can of jiggled soda, George thought: the minute you popped his top he would explode.”
