Of course, my version of the double-dip involves — you guessed it — reading. This post is on the latest Sara Paretsky novel, Body Work, and her recent work Writing in an Age of Silence. Lucky, little ol’ me won a signed copy of BW, and it was after Paretsky’s release of WAS that I went to her Rochester booksigning (see earlier post on signings). I couldn’t wait for my signed copy of BW, though — I preordered the Kindle version. Instant gratification — oh yes.

WAS almost seems the work of a split-personality at first. I was surprised at Paretsky’s description of her childhood. I’d known some of it already, but I didn’t know about the severe gender bias in their household. It certainly made me grateful — nobody really encouraged my own interests as I grew up, but nobody discouraged them either. My father used to talk about how I could become an astronaut someday — despite the fact that I’d shown no interest in science or space. Writing just wasn’t seen as a career path; it had nothing to do with judgments about my abilities as a female.

The other focus in WAS is on the restrictions being placed on our freedoms in the wake of September 11. These came into play in my own novel, Faith, when Robert meets a man who has been detained without charges and without notice to his family. Robert fears that his own privacy will be invaded, that he himself may be arrested. It’s startling how little opposition to these measures — or perhaps more accurately, how little of the opposition has been covered in mainstream media — have resulted even after the terrible stories of torture and the lack of due process.If Americans have rights because that is how we’ve decided people should be fairly treated, then why would we only think that it’s fair for Americans? Interestingly, this main features of these essays capture the features that draw me to the VI novels — revealing honesty and passion. What I find especially inspiring about this section is that it comes from the same woman who expressed her self-doubts and repressive education only chapters before. If someone with this upbringing can find such strength, then what am I capable of?

I also had a split reaction to Body Work, though the reaction is mine and not a division in the book itself. In several, meaningful ways, both Paretsky and VI take risks and poke around outside their comfort zone. At the center of the action is the Body Artist, a woman who appears naked on stage, covered in white paint. The audience members are invited to come on stage and use her as the canvas for their own creations. There are lots of questions that arise — what is art? what is risk? what is vulnerability? Especially now that VI is without Morrell and an assistant — and trying her latest attempt at a relationship with her cousin — I got the feeling that VI is feeling her way in new territory. It’s not so much that she hasn’t been there before, but maybe that she’s old enough to recognize the patterns and either consciously accept them or question them. Not having a husband or kids means she has certain amount of freedom to take risks, like the Body Artist. What will she be comfortable with?

The drawback to the book, for me, was rooted in the extra storylines. Generally I’m not too concerned about coincidences; if the rest of the novel is good, suspension of disbelief isn’t that intrusive. But there’s a whole lot of coincidences going on at the start of this novel, and the swallowing-difficulty is really only a side effect of the number of various plots and subplots. Each of these plots is interesting, but each feels like it’s gotten short shrift. I love the scenes with the vets, and the Body Artist is a fascinating character, not to mention the family of the woman who dies at the beginning of the book, but it felt to me like there wasn’t enough time to really get into these promising characters. The villains come off flat, as does VI’s new beau, because there just isn’t room to do them justice. All of these storylines would make great novels and/or short stories, but it was overwhelming, and somewhat incredible, to put them all together. It also seemed that the ending was a little rushed, turning out fairly similar in manner (trying to avoid spoilers here) to the endings of the last four novels or so. One of my favorite things about Paretsky’s books is that she doesn’t go for the cheap, happy endings, but they are starting to feel a little repetitive. Ahhh, for the days of the would-be Viking Grafalk going down with his fiery ship!

Still, the portraits of the people wronged in this novel are haunting and touching. In these days of repression and recession, if VI can keep going in the face of these assaults on our humanity and society, then I can at least manage to keep reading the news. Such as it is.