I want to talk a little bit about writing and setting. When writing about a setting that is not native to the reader, how do you go about describing it? There are different approaches to this, and I got to thinking about it while reading The Case of the Missing Servant.
If the character is native to the setting, to them it is everyday and usually unextraordinary. So if you are telling a story from that character's point of view, you would not have them think, on their way to work: "My automobile is red. It is powered by an internal combustion engine and operates on four rubber tires. I use a wheel and two pedals to control direction and speed as I navigate it down a network of paved pathways we call roads." To the character this sort of thing isn't given a moment's thought, and certainly doesn't need explanation. But if the reader is from a vastly different place, then it might need to be explained.
This problem comes up frequently in science fiction and fantasy, where the settings are usually not our present-day world. How can you describe the setting for the readers without long expository lumps, where you interrupt the flow of the story to describe and explain everything? Writers in the SF genre often use a technique called incuing, by which they don't explain everything up front, but drop hints throughout the text that the reader can pick up and piece together themselves to come to understand the place and situation. If done well, it works very well, at least for readers who are used to the technique. I have heard that this style can be confusing and frustrating for readers who are not accustomed to it, who don't know to trust the writer and keep reading, and things will make sense eventually.
The Case of the Missing Servant is set in our world, in India. The writer is not Indian himself, and obviously is writing for the non-Indian market, and it shows. I recently told someone I don't like reading mystery novels set in foreign places, unless the author is a native of that place, and she was surprised. But to me the differences are kind of obvious. If I read a mystery by Andrea Camilleri or Arnuldur Indridason, they don't waste a lot of pages telling me what Sicily or Iceland are like, because to them and their characters, it is everyday life and not much worth notice. But a foreign writer, even one who now lives in the country they are using as a setting, seems more likely to try to describe and explain. Doubtless this is attractive and more accessible to some readers, who like to feel like a tour guide has taken them around the setting of the story. Personally I always doubt the accuracy of the vision, or the interpretation, from a non-native. For instance, I used to listen the BBC World Service on the radio, and sometimes found their interpretation of things going on in the US to be very, very odd. So I have to say, I personally prefer books set in foreign lands to be written by the people who are actually from there. This is a personal quirk and I am certain that many people would disagree with me.
So, on to The Case of the Missing Servants. Hall chooses to use the expository lump method of worldbuilding. He spends a great deal of time describing and explaining, and by the end I felt like instead of a story I was getting a lecture about the social problems of India, and it was not a particularly welcome message.
I am under the (perhaps mistaken) impression that this is a bit like an Indian version of The Ladies #1 Detective Agency. I have not actually read those books, so I base this solely on having watched some of the television series. Our protagonist is Vish Puri, a middle-aged Indian man who operates a detective agency in Delhi. His agency is well-established and he is comfortably off. He employs a number of people in his agency, most of whom he refers to by nicknames such as Face Cream and Tubelight. He is married, with adult daughters, and also employs a number of servants in his house. Though he does all sorts of business, a lot of it is investigating potential spouses before marriage to make sure that they are a good choice.
Puri and his operatives handle a couple of these cases in this novel, while also working on the title case, in which a respectable and refreshingly non-corrupt lawyer has been accused of murdering one of his servants. The woman disappeared one night, and no one knows where she went, what happened to her, or even where she originally came from. The case is apparently being launched by the lawyer's political opponents, and it is up to Puri to find out what happened that night before the lawyer's reputation is irrevocably smeared.
Puri does not like being called the Indian Sherlock Holmes, but he certainly has his Holmesian moments:
"You are a lawyer residing in Jaipur, is it?" interrupted Puri.
Kasliwal looked taken aback. "That's correct," he said. "But how...Ah, Bunty told you, I suppose."
Puri enjoyed impressing prospective clients with his deductions, despite the simplicity of his observations.
"I've not spoken with Bunty, actually," he said plainly. "But from your Law Society of India monogrammed tie and type of briefcase, I deducted you are a man of the Bar. As to your hometown, traces of red Rajasthani sand are on your shoes. Also you mentioned air-dashing to Delhi. You arrived here thirty minutes back. So should be you came by the five o'clock flight from Jaipur."
Puri is not always a likable man, which I appreciate. He is sexist, has a low opinion of servants, and some very old-fashioned ideas. I did not always like him -- in fact, I have to say that I generally enjoyed the book less and less as I read on -- but I do appreciate the fact that he is a believable, flawed character. Though actually, from his perspective, they probably aren't even flaws.
The Case of the Missing Servant was moderately entertaining and held my attention all the way through. Some of the things I disliked about it would likely be no problem at all to many readers. It's light and fluffy and not bad, but not filling. Sort of like cotton candy or marshmallow fluff.
