By M.E. Proctor
Pseudonym of Martine Proctor
Classic detectives are outsiders, if not necessarily in the geographic sense. They see the world and people through a different lens; they’re wired to be observers. Which doesn’t mean they’re always neutral and when they’re sucked into a case, the consequences can be dire. That detective stories are often told in first person adds an extra layer of cool detachment. It can turn frigid—French slang for a crime or detective novel is ‘polar’—or so stripped down to the studs that the PI is more an abstract concept than a breathing individual.
That won’t do for readers who like their crime stories, even the dark ones, with a smidgen of warmth, a hint of humanity. The outsider/observer perspective cannot be pushed so far that the detective becomes an unrelatable presence. Readers need to know something about the main character that will generate interest and empathy.
Holmes and Poirot are “brains”, cold fish and quirky eccentrics. Traits that are brought to light and “tenderized”, made human, by the sidekicks who chronicle their exploits.
Marlowe and Spenser are both first person narrators, geographically rooted but emotionally remote. They have a knack for the smart one-liner and reveal themselves through their interactions with friends and foes. The attraction is their snap, a blend of humor and cynicism. McGee and Archer are social commentators, insiders that have enough distance to see what’s wrong with the world.
Simenon’s Maigret, not a PI but so freewheeling he might as well be, is defined by the way he moves and acts: slowly. It makes him sympathetic. He’s ponderous, mentally and physically. Sometimes, he doesn’t act at all. In my favorite book of the series, L’Affaire Saint-Fiacre (1932), his placid presence as pure observer (he can’t be an insider, he belongs to the wrong social class) sets the plot in motion and nails the resolution. It is the best example I know of a story that plants the investigator in the loamy soil and waits to see what happens.
When I think of these books, I can’t recall multiple points of view. The narrator holds the reader’s hand from beginning to end, and all we know about the main character and the plot comes from that unique source, sometimes reliable, sometimes not.
The first Declan Shaw mystery I wrote ten years ago (still unpublished, a good thing, I sharpened my teeth on it) followed that classical model. I stuck to my PI’s view of the world from beginning to end. His restlessness gives him outsider credentials. The story was told entirely from his perspective, and the reader got as much information as he did, not a whisper more. I still believe it’s an honest way to tell a tale. The reader unwraps the case at the same speed the PI does; there are no hidden clues, no ‘gotcha’, no rabbit pulled out of the hat. I just completed what I hope will be Book 3 in the series and, apart from a brief flashback, the camera is on him all the way, all the time. The plot—I call it a paranoid road movie—lends itself to it.
But… a single point of view (POV) isn’t always possible.
Or practical.
I’m a strong believer in “letting the story rule” Choice of tense, present or past. Choice of POV, first or third (I’m not a fan of second ‘you’). Single POV or multiple angles. The tale will do what it needs to do to work.
In Love You Till Tuesday, the first official Declan Shaw book, published in 2024, the Houston detective’s perspective is dominant, but other characters chime in. By necessity. First, to set the scope of the conspiracy: Who are the puppet masters pulling the strings in the background? Then, to keep the action moving when Declan is flat on his back in the hospital. The plot is complex, and the readers know more, temporarily, than the detective. Part of the fun is to watch him play catch up and connect the dots.
Book number two, Catch Me on a Blue Day, features three supporting POVs, from women with a major stake in the story. How they see Declan reveals more about themselves than him. The detective is the blank canvas they project their needs and desires on.
- Isabel, the art gallery manager. She’s smart, opportunistic, and bored. Declan is the sexy interlude she needs to spice up her end of summer. He turns out to be more than she bargained for. Danger was in her life, but until he showed up, she wasn’t aware of it or chose to ignore it.
- Jean is old enough to be his mother. Declan is in trouble, dealing with the death of a friend and the sequels of a serious injury. She wants to help and finds him reticent when she expects him to be grateful.
- Kate. She was two years old when her sister was murdered, thirty years ago. A sister she doesn’t remember but whose death comes back to plague her. It’s tempting to see Declan as the savior who will make it all right again. As if the past could be rewritten …
Lover. Son. Knight. Expectations that are impossible to meet. Declan, with his cowboy boots and cheap cheroots, is out of his depth on the Connecticut shore. He’ll still do his best, it’s his nature. Just don’t shoot him if he falls short.
Success or failure is a matter of point of view anyway. And in gritty crime, the end always comes at a cost.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M.E. Proctor was born in Brussels and lives in Texas. She’s the author of the Declan Shaw detective mysteries, the author of a short story collection, Family and Other Ailments, and the co-author of a retro-noir novella, Bop City Swing, featuring San Francisco homicide dick, Tom Keegan. Her fiction has appeared in Vautrin, Tough, Rock and a Hard Place, Bristol Noir, Mystery Tribune, Reckon Review, and Black Cat Weekly among others. She’s a Shamus and Derringer short story nominee. You can visit Martine on Twitter (@MEProctor3), Facebook (Martine Elise Proctor), on Substack or her official author’s site. Catch Me on a Blue Day is available in eBook and paperback.
