On New Year’s Eve we watched the movie Wind River (2017),
which takes place on the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_River_(film)).
It’s a far cry from Edinburgh Twilight (2017), set in the cobblestone
streets of Old Town in the Scottish city, but they both raise a question about
whether there’s more good than evil in the world. I suppose any murder mystery raises that
question indirectly, if not directly, but this unlikely pair do so in
intriguing ways, one somewhat subtly, the other more explicitly.
In Wind River, desolate, windswept mountains provide
the backdrop to an investigation into the death of a young woman found frozen
in the snow by a Fish and Wildlife Service tracker who hunts predatory
animals. It turns out the young woman
herself is the victim of human predators, who had raped her, left her to die,
and killed her boyfriend, whose body is found a couple of days later. The
stark, natural setting with images of dead animal prey and growling mountain
lions, and the Indian reservation with images of neglect and deteriorated
conditions serve to suggest in an understated way that rape, violence, and
murder are outgrowths of nature “red in tooth and claw” and a society in which
the strong have license to overpower the weak. As in most murder mysteries, the
rapists and murderers are eventually overpowered by the forces of justice, and,
in this case, the forces of nature, but we are left with the sense that nature
and society are as cruel and heartless in the end as they were in the
beginning.
In Edinburgh Twilight by Carole Lawrence, a serial
killer stalks his prey in the back alleys, the pubs, and the open markets of
the city, leaving a calling card on his victims with the image of a
skeleton. The streets reek of human
waste, drunkards, prostitutes, pickpockets, scam artists, etc. As in most
murder mysteries, the detective uses rational methods of investigation, as well
as intuition, to collect the evidence, follow the clues, and track down the
killer. As in most murder mysteries, the
reader is left with a sense of satisfaction that the crime is solved, and the
perpetrator gets his just deserts. Good
conquers evil. But, again, we are left
with the sense that the struggle for survival goes on in the streets, leaving corruption
and depravity in its wake.
What is different in Edinburgh Twilight is that this
question of whether there is more good than evil in the world is openly
discussed in the novel. The omniscient
point of view allows us into the mind of the killer, whose recurring mantra is,
“Oh, there is so much evil in a man, one hardly knows where to begin.” Detective Ian Hamilton often says that, as a
policeman, he has to believe that anyone is capable of anything. His brother Donald opines that “…the forces
of light and dark exist in a relationship of delicate balance, and that
murderers appease the blood lust of humanity.
They perform a double duty: first, by expressing mankind’s desire to
kill, and second, as appropriate victims of slaughter when they are brought to
justice.” Ian asks, “Do you believe the thirst for blood runs in all our
veins?” And Donald replies, “When you
look into your own soul, do you not find a shadowed corner that takes secret
delight in the suffering of others? The
Germans even have a word for it—Schadenfraude.”
Later, Ian wonders, “What if Donald was right? Did evil
really exist in equal measure in every man’s heart? Ian had spent his career
convinced there were good men and bad, and it was his job to protect the former
from the latter. Was it just a matter of circumstances then—and under the right
conditions, even a good man could become corrupted, like the monster he pursued
so doggedly? ...The idea was unthinkable.
If his brother was right, fate toyed with people like a cat tormenting a
mouse, and mankind was at the mercy of a cruel and indifferent universe.” He even begins to wonder if his own brother
might be the perpetrator! When Ian
finally does trap the killer, he confronts him, “Why? …What made you do it? …I
need to know.” The killer replies, “You
may as well ask a river why it flows, or a rooster why it crows. It’s my
nature.”
Are some people naturally evil? Do we all have a shadow of blood lust? Is the only difference among us that some of us are capable of
controlling our evil impulses more than others? Do murder mysteries appeal to
us because they allow us to act out our own sublimated murderous fantasies?
In Wind River, there are good people and bad, but the
background of nature and social environment are such, we are left wondering if
good is the exception to the rule of evil in nature, including human nature. And
in Edinburgh Twilight we are led to question the goodness of even the
“good people” who somehow seem to rise above the squalor of the streets.
At the end of the novel, though, Lawrence leaves us with
some images of redemption:
“…it was March already. February had slipped quietly away,
giving way to the promise of spring and rebirth…”
“As he swung out onto George IV bridge, the sight of
Edinburgh spread out beneath him took his breath away. He stopped the admire the glistening of a
thousand lamps, touched by the Promethean hand of the city’s leeries
[lamplighters], bringers of light amidst the northern Scottish darkness.”
Is it just a matter of perspective, such that from the
inside of evil it is impossible to see the good, whereas the wider view puts
evil in its place and allows the light of goodness to shine through?
A friend and I were commiserating recently that when we
read/watch the news, it does sometimes seem there is more evil than good in the
world, but as we go through our daily lives, interacting with family, friends,
neighbors, colleagues, fellow citizens, even strangers, it seems there is more
good than evil. Maybe it is all a
matter of perspective.
