Having pointed out how hard it is to find a venue for short mystery stories, I will confess that, as in prior years, more than fifteen hundred mystery stories published in the 2006 calendar year were examined in order to identify the fifty that seemed most worthy of being considered for inclusion in this series by this year’s guest editor, Carl Hiaasen, whose job it was to select the top twenty.
As is true every year, I could not have perused those fifteen hundred stories on my own, much of the heavy lifting being done by my invaluable colleague Michele Slung, who is able to read, evaluate, and commit to seemingly lifelong memory a staggering percentage of these stories, culling those that clearly do not belong on a short list — or a long one either, for that matter. She also examines twice as many stories as that to determine if they have mystery or criminal content, frequently impossible to know merely by reading the title. The same standards pertain to every one of the volumes in this prestigious series. The best writing makes it into the book. Fame, friendship, original venue, reputation, subject — none of it matters. It isn’t only the qualification of being the best writer that will earn a spot in the table of contents; it also must be the best story.
While it is redundant for me to say it again, since I have already done so in each of the previous ten volumes of this series, it falls into the category of fair warning to state that many people regard a mystery as a detective story. I regard the detective story as one sub-genre of a much bigger category, which I define as any short work of fiction in which a crime, or the threat of a crime, is central to the theme or the plot. While I love good puzzles and tales of pure ratiocination, few of these are written today, as the mystery genre has evolved (for better or worse, depending on your point of view) into a more character-driven form of literature, with more emphasis on the “why” of a crime’s commission than on “who” or “how.” The line between mystery fiction and general fiction has become increasingly blurred in recent years, producing fewer memorable detective stories but more significant literature.
It is a pleasure, as well as a necessity, to thank Carl Hiaasen for agreeing to be the guest editor for the 2007 edition of The Best American Mystery Stories. A regular presence on the bestseller list and one of the funniest writers who ever lived, he put aside virtually everything on his very crowded plate to deliver the work on schedule, thereby allowing a sigh of relief to emanate from the lips of one and all at Houghton Mifflin. And sincere thanks as well to the previous guest editors, beginning with Robert B. Parker, who started it all in 1997, followed by Sue Grafton, Ed McBain, Donald E. Westlake. Lawrence Block. James Ellroy, Michael Connelly, Nelson DeMille, Joyce Carol Oates, and Scott Turow.
While I engage in a relentless quest to locate and read every mystery/crime/suspense story published, I live in terror that I will miss a worthy story, so if you are an author, editor, or publisher, or care about one, please feel free to send a book, magazine, or tear sheet to me c/o The Mysterious Bookshop, 58 Warren Street, New York, NY 10007. If it first appeared electronically, you must submit a hard copy. It is vital to include the author’s contact information. No unpublished material will he considered for what should be obvious reasons. No material will he returned. If you distrust the postal service, enclose a self-addressed, stamped postcard.
To be eligible for the 2008 edition, a story must have been written by an American or a Canadian, and it must first have been published in an American or Canadian publication in the calendar year 2007. The earlier in the year I receive the story, the more fondly I regard it. For reasons known only to the nitwits who wait until Christmas week to submit a story published the previous spring, this happens every year, causing much gnashing of teeth while I read a stack of stories as my wife and friends are trimming the Christmas tree or otherwise celebrating the holiday season. It had better be a damned good story if you do this. Because of the very tight production schedule for this book, the absolute firm deadline is December 31. If the story arrives two days later, it will not be read. Sorry.
O.P.
Introduction
Mystery is the nut of all great fiction, so it seems superfluous and even a bit patronizing to promote a separate category for it. Yet the tag has stuck since the heyday of pulp, and now it seems unshakable.
The stories in this collection would do honor to any anthology of short literature. More than transcending the genre of crime, they blow away its nebulous boundaries. Good writing is good writing, period.
Oh, there’s death in these pages. Death by shotgun, handgun, hammer, candlestick, Barlow knife, bayonet, golf club — even death by garage-door opener. But the stories are far more memorable for the characters than for the crimes.
“A plague set upon the world to cauterize and cleanse it” is our introduction to the menacing, grief-shattered Jeepster in William Gay’s riveting “Where Will You Go When Your Skin Cannot Contain You?”
The Jeepster is hellbound, of course, which is not an uncommon fate in his neighborhood. There’s nothing common about this story, though, a dark poetic torrent that makes vivid a state of almost unimaginable heartbrokenness.
The ability to deliver such complete and compelling tales in a couple of thousand words is an authentic gift, and the envy of writers who cannot pull it off.
When novelists pace themselves, they set their own clock. Sometimes the goal line is visible; other times it isn’t. However long we take to get there is entirely up to us. Those who pick up our books can see how thick or thin they are, and adjust their expectations accordingly.
But readers of short stories arrive primed for a quick score, preferably in a single sitting. A writer must work essentially in a two-minute drill, trying to move the hall downfield quickly without fumbling. Such disciplined calibrations of plot and compressions of character development are difficult to do well.
In “Rodney Valen’s Second Life,” Kent Meyers’s narrator sets the hook artfully: “Everyone figured Rodney, Shane’s father, would end the Valen line. How the hell Rodney managed to find a wife’s beyond anyone. Blame the freeway.”
That funny line leads down a haunted road, though, and the shadows will be familiar to readers of Poe and even Faulkner.
In “Gleason,” by Louise Erdrich, a philandering dreamer named Stregg tries to explain his recent life to his mistress’s brother: “Until I met Jade last year, you understand, I was reasonably happy. Carmen and I had sex for twenty minutes once a week and went to Florida in the winter; we gave dinner parties and stayed at the lake for two weeks every summer. In the summer, we had sex twice a week and I cooked all our meals.”
The kidnapping that follows is brilliantly incidental to the fate of that marriage. Think O. Henry channeling John Cheever.
While shored by tight structure, a mystery flops if the cast is uninteresting or fails to perform. The writers in this volume demonstrate zero tolerance for boring relationships, boring interludes, or boring endings.
Laura Lippman’s soccer-mom call girl in “One True Love,” Robert Andrews’s homeless hero in “Solomon’s Alley,” Jim Fusilli’s cuckolded Italian waiter in “Chellini’s Solution” — all are splendidly galvanized from beginning to end.