The Gods of Gotham

Look what I've done, I already have so many books to read and I just opened up a whole new genre for myself. Historical mystery is fun. It's gritty and tough, and still adorably polite. Especially when you've got such a straight arrow like Timothy Wilde.Faye's protagonist has the same astute observational skills as the character she used in the last book I read from her, [b:Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson 4543979 Dust and Shadow An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson Lyndsay Faye http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1347948850s/4543979.jpg 4593256], but Wilde is far more humble about his abilities. He's just a barman, or at least until a fire destroys his livelihood, his home, and his savings, not to mention a quarter of his face. Then he's a reluctant copper star, but once a blood soaked ten-year-old girl crashes into him on the street and a graveyard filled with the bodies of nineteen mutilated children is found, he falls into a job that he was clearly made for.I'm not used to mysteries and I'm not really made for them. I never try to figure anything out, I always just go with the flow. I blame Donna Tartt. So while I didn't make much of an attempt here, I was rather pleased to see how Faye artfully designed a line-up of possible suspects without ever saying it out loud. When I finally got it in me to take a guess, Wilde came to the same conclusion and we were off and running. There is action and intrigue, but its not really as twisty and turny as you'd expect. Moreso its about whether Wilde will be able to protect the people he cares about, and whether he'll come out of the whole thing unscathed. The novel depends heavily on your ability to invest yourself in Timothy Wilde's character and well-being, and personally I found him fascinating. It's also about him building himself into a detective while the newly founded NYPD strives to make itself into an institution that can protect its citizens and maintain order. Wilde is instrinsicly linked to the city he calls home and that's what holds this novel together.Faye does a lot to create atmosphere and make the setting as real as possible, but what really struck me, past the slang of the newsboys and the filth that the underprivileged lived in, was the children. The whole story revolves around not just crimes against children such as murder and sex slavery, but their whole livelihoods. Wilde's desire to protect these kids is what spurs him, and a few others, into action, but its also what makes him unique. Kids weren't so sacred then the way they are now. Kids were workers, they were thieves, they were prostitutes, and people didn't bat an eyelash. Moreso, they were something that needed to be controlled. One of the first crimes that we're privy to Wilde solving is the death of an infant, killed when his confused and delusional mother mistook him for a rat. Wilde's heart breaks everytime he meets another child with their hair and faces styled like grown up, their eyes flickering with disinterest, not youthful curiosity, at his shiny copper badge. But few else have the same reaction.The truth is, Timothy Wilde is a bit of bleeding heart, which might've been why I had hard time paying attention during his inner monologues. Sure, he's a tough guy, incredibly smart and resourceful, but its clear that the events in the novel harden him quite a bit. From learning to outwit a cold and manipulative madam, to getting a hard reality check when it comes to the love of his life. The latter of which I had mixed feelings about. Mercy Underhill from the beginning is almost intentionally marked as flawed, Faye making it clear that she is no trophy. She's not quite beautiful, and much too smart and gutsy for her time and gender. Their flirtation was adorable, and I can't lie, I don't think I've ever wanted a pair to get together so much, but there was an air of doom about them much like a part of you knows the murders will not be solved in a nice little package like we're used to. I would never think to judge Mercy for the things she had to do though at first I couldn't help but think she was overreacting a bit, but once you find out what exactly she was living with, it's a little more understandable why she panicked, but I wonder if Wilde still did after everything. I just really wish she could have appeared stronger at the end.So this was really enjoyable, with an interesting main character and an evocative setting. All signs indicate that this will become a series, so I'm excited to see where Wilde goes next.

It's really a three star book, but I enjoyed listening to it more than I was irritated by the cliches. Plus she writes good dialogue, and who wouldn't want to be on the ground floor with the first New York police detective.

One of my reading goals for 2012 is to branch out: to read some books and genres that I would've turned my nose up at in earlier years. When I first made this goal, I also told myself that trying new things didn't mean I had to go as far as reading a mystery. No way, no chance.

I have to give credit to the art department behind Lyndsay Faye's The Gods of Gotham for helping me reach my goal—even if it meant reading a mystery. As a reader of literary fiction, the cover caught my attention before I noticed the genre sticker that adorned the book's spine. Your average reader of popular mysteries probably isn't going to like it, but I loved it.

My dislike for mysteries goes way back. No, I've never read much of what could be considered a mystery novel—Julian Barnes' [b:Arthur and George|45369|Arthur and George|Julian Barnes|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327969807s/45369.jpg|2270654] is probably the closest thing—but I have read several short stories and seen enough in drama to get my fill. American culture loves crime and justice. They love a good mystery. I do not. Too trite. Too predictable. Too boring. Yes, I think it's boring.

I did have some of these feelings while reading The Gods of Gotham. As a mystery, it probably excels. I did guess the “killer” one-third of the way into the story and I'm sure that wasn't intended, but the intricacies that made up the crime were harder to grasp. The protagonist is a likeable and talented detective, but this is a flaw to me; I cannot believe the detective who is able to connect A to B to C all the way to V just because the girl in the cafe next to him is eating a spinach omelet (this doesn't actually occur in this particular novel, but similar, albeit less absurd, connections do happen). Now, before someone pipes up and says, “But aren't you the guy who loves The X-Files and isn't Mulder the exact definition of this sort of detective?” let me say that first of all, I can accept such ridiculous connections in a show about aliens, werewolves, and killer kitty cats, and second, Mulder's “sense” of piecing the facts together from nothing was one of my pet peeves of the show. But, I digress.

The Gods of Gotham shows extraordinary research. Pieces of history blend with the story in a setting and atmosphere that feels and looks genuine. This is a wonderful look at New York City in 1845. The dialogue is snappy and many of the secondary characters—primarily Matsell and Piest, secondarily Mrs. Boehm—are entertaining and deserve more time on the page. The primary characters seem to be more developed and faceted than they tend to be in the average mystery, but they still were a bit too cardboardish and easily pliable for my tastes, that is they're one thing until the plot needs them to be another and then they change. Change is okay if I understand it or believe it. Too often in The Gods of Gotham I didn't understand or believe.

Overall I thought the book was well written. My attention waned from time to time, but this is more a personality issue than a critique of the book. I probably won't read any further “Timothy Wilde” novels, but if someone asks me to recommend a good mystery, I'll first tell them “I don't really read mysteries.” Then I'll add, quietly so no one who knows me will overhear, “But this one here, The Gods of Gotham, isn't so bad.” It'll be our little secret.