"The Moonstone" by Wilkie Collins: Normally, 70 Proof only reviews books we're currently reading. However, an exception must be made in the case of "The Moonstone," a miraculous piece of craftsmanship we first encountered during the early stages of our one-year "hiatus" (read alcohol-induced blackout).
When asked to name the pioneers of the mystery genre, most would rightfully offer the distinguished Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or the equally renowned Edgar Allan Poe. Sadly, the greatness of these two men frequently obscures the significance of a third, the honorable Wilkie Collins. Over the next few weeks, 70 Proof will look at the works of all three gentlemen, beginning with the oft-omitted Mr. Collins.
Published in 1868, "The Moonstone," along with Mr. Collins' earlier "The Woman in White" (1860), holds the distinction of being one of the first novel-length detective stories in English. Although, regarding it as a mere "detective story" does the tale a grave injustice. While it certainly is a piece of pure entertainment, lacking the philosophical weight of such 70 Proof icons as Dostoevsky, Camus, and Sartre, "The Moonstone" deserves to be mentioned among the great novels in literature due entirely to the skill of its author.
The story has its roots in the Storming of Seringapatam (May 1799), a decisive conflict in the fourth and final war between the British East Indian Company and the Tipu Sultan. As the British soldiers swept through the Indian temples, Colonel John Herncastle helped himself to the Moonstone, a giant yellow diamond sacred to the Indian people. Herncastle's greed overwhelmed any fear of a reported curse, and he brought the jewel home to England.
Col. Herncastle was hardly a benevolent soul, as his criminal looting would attest. His questionable character and surly nature estranged his family. He lived, and died, a lonely, bitter man. But the good colonel perpetrated one final act of mischief from his deathbed, willing the Moonstone to his sister's only child, Rachel Verinder. Considering the colonel knew of the stone's dreaded curse, was it an act of generosity or vindictiveness?
Miss Verinder comes into possession of the Moonstone on her 18th birthday. Lady Julia Verinder, Rachel's mother, is shocked by both the diamond's obvious value and the fact her nefarious brother was responsible for the gesture. She senses something is amiss and questions whether or not her daughter should keep the stone. The argument is postponed until after the girl's party.
Aside from straining mother-daughter relations, the Moonstone also impacts the fortunes of young Franklin Blake, whose plans to wed Rachel are clouded by the arrival of the precious gem. While Mr. Blake bides his time, the partygoers are somewhat unnerved by three Indian men posing as traveling minstrels. Unbeknownst to the Verinder clan, the Indians are on a holy quest to reclaim the Moonstone, and nothing will stand in their way.
Of course, the Moonstone doesn't last the night. The diamond is stolen from Miss Verinder's bedroom while she sleeps. Worse yet, the theft has a catastrophic effect on the young woman's emotional state, sending her into a debilitating depression. Mr. Blake vows to find the jewel for his love, but his actions are only met with scorn and disapproval from the troubled lass. The more he tries to help, the more she pushes him away. Undaunted, Mr. Blake pulls some family favors in order to call in Sergeant Cuffs, a famed English detective, to solve the Moonstone's mysterious disappearance.
The genius of "The Moonstone" is not merely in the story, but how it's told. The events are related after the fact, with numerous characters taking turns telling the tale. Gabriel Betteredge, the Verinder family butler, leads the way, opening the book with a charmingly competent stating of the facts, providing all the necessary background information. The narrative is then passed along, with each subsequent narrator handling the portion of the story he or she witnessed firsthand. So, it's not like a "Rashomon" kind of deal, where multiple characters recollect the same event differently. Here, no ground is covered twice. The narrator only deals with the section of the story he or she knows best.
There are two significant benefits to the device. First, and most importantly, the changing of voice keeps the material fresh; each switch of narrator gives the story new life. It also allows for stronger connections with the characters, since so many of them relate to the reader in an informal, one-on-one manner.
And there are definitely characters worthy of attention. The aforementioned Sergeant Cuffs is a remarkable creation, a detective who does a workmanlike job without relying on the incredible. Cuffs has all the skill and demeanor of a sensational sleuth, but he'd much rather remain at home growing roses than chasing after some missing rock. Despite being categorized as a "detective story," Cuffs is more of a supporting player. He gladly shares the stage with a memorable ensemble cast, including the tormented Ezra Jennings, a misunderstood, ostracized doctor who holds the key to the mystery's solution.
"The Moonstone" won't change lives, but it is a uniquely enjoyable read, mixing pure entertainment with brilliant craftsmanship. If nothing else, it's a tremendous tutorial on the use of narrative structure.
RATING: 