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"One lie. That was all that was asked of me. One lie concocted between old friends to keep a house in order. And now the lie is growing to the size of an island and must be watered and pruned and fed." - The Destroyers, p. 244
Last year we raved about Christopher Bollen's book Orient, a truly Christie-inspired mystery set on Long Island featuring a truly frightening denouement and named an NPR Book of the Year. Loving that book as we did, and knowing the author's genuine adoration for our muse, Agatha (his article about visiting Greenway is a classic for fans), we were shoe-ins for pre-ordering his acclaimed new book, The Destroyers, as soon as we got wind of it. We were clearly beyond thrilled when Christopher (who edits Interview magazine in addition to writing great fiction) agreed to do an interview with us about the new book and crime fiction in general. First we'll summarize the book, and then we'll let the interview serve as the YOA Treatment because it's awesome. We guarantee you're going to enjoy reading Christopher's thoughts (and The Destroyers) as much as we did.
The Sum of It:
Read this book in two days, it's one of those. The Destroyers was described by one reviewer as "equal parts Graham Greene, Patricia Highsmith, and F. Scott Fitzgerald," and if that's not a compelling combo, I don't know what is. Set on the Greek island of Patmos, the gorgeous descriptions of sparkling seas, looming monasteries, deserted beaches, gleaming yachts and sunwashed tourists will immediately draw you in, and the building sense of ominous tension amid the glamour and carefree days will hook you.
For the most part, we see the story through the perspective of Ian Bledsoe, an Ivy-league educated former New Yorker from a wealthy family whose idealism often leads him to dubious allegiances and decisions that have made him a black sheep in his family and his profession life. Desperate for someone to give him a hand, Ian tracks down his old school friend Charlie on Patmos, whose family was originally from Cyprus and possess wealth and power that dwarfs that of Ian's family. When Ian and Charlie were kids, they invented a game they called Destroyers, where they'd take turns laying out a scenario in which the other player was trying to escape from a band of attackers in their school, on the subway, in a bank or a museum, forcing each other to think on their feet and use their surroundings to stay safe in a mental game of wizard's chess. Ian was always better at it than Charlie, who let his emotions and wandering eye for the ladies cloud his judgement. Anyhow, Ian and Charlie both grew up with the mindset of using their mental acuity to try and skirt the rules and stay ahead, even if it's just one jump, Aladdin-style.
When Ian finds Charlie on the island, the latter is running a fleet of yachts for tourists, dating a beautiful if frantic former actress, and juggling some real family drama, as well as being harangued by the various expats who call Patmos home for the summer. Ian wants Charlie to give him a job, and the role he ends up with is unique. Or so he thinks. A bomb that exploded in an island cafe earlier in the summer has everyone on edge, and some apocalypse-obsessed hippies who've made the island where Revelation was written their base camp add to the strange atmosphere. Ian starts wondering if that's all that has Charlie and his motley crew acting secretive and feeling suspicious, and when something happens to throw everything into chaos, Ian feels like it's up to him to get to the bottom of the trouble in paradise.
The YOA Treatment:
Without further ado, Christopher Bollen!YOA asks: Your last novel, Orient [which we loved], was set on Long Island, NY. Obviously the setting of The Destroyers, the Greek Island of Patmos, is a bit more exotic. The imagery of the island is crystal clear; you can basically feel the sun dazzling your eyes off the water and the whitewashed walls. Did you choose the island before visiting, or after?
CB answers: After. I had been to Greece a few times before visiting Patmos in August 2013, but it was on that trip—and on that particular island—that the faint flame of an idea began to beat in my head. Actually it wasn’t so faint. I think I was determined to set my next novel on Patmos before my return flight touched down in New York. But to be honest, the cards were stacked in favor of Patmos from the very beginning. As a kid who went to Catholic school, I knew that it was the island where St. John wrote The Book of Revelation. And then, later, in my twenties, I kept hearing about Patmos from wealthy, mostly European jet-set friends as this perfect vacation destination. Those two realities—Apocalypse island/ideal holiday island—seemed so impossible that I was hopelessly fascinated in the place before I ever booked my ticket.
YOA asks: Both settings are coastal. Is there something about a waterfront locale that feels particularly mysterious or sinister for you as a writer?
CB answers: Absolutely. I tend to like to have elements of crime in my books, and that always seems to lead me toward the water. I’m not alone on this idea. Jean Genet’s Querelle starts with this delicious line: “the notion of murder often brings to mind the notion of sea and sailors.” Of course, ports and waterfronts are traditionally where “unsavory” things happen, where transients and people quite literally on the edges of society gather. But I think there is also a personal reason for my obsession with coasts. I grew up in Ohio, which is in the very center of the United States. I was intent at very young age to move to the coast—either New York or California. So in a sense I think being raised in a landlocked place has made me instinctively reach for the sea, and I seem to end up near water every time I write fiction.
YOA asks: As a writer in this style, you may be asked to consider this question often, but why do you think we as readers are fascinated by tales of the worst parts of human nature? Do you think we like knowing that sometimes the good parts -- curiousity, care, determination, loyalty -- struggle with the worst parts, and win, or is it something more?
CB answers: I think especially in this age, where everyone has stage-managed their lives and serves as their own PR consultant on their personal habits and interests—look at basically any Instagram account, from your grandmother to the young man who rang you up at the grocery store this morning—where everyone is showing off their best selves and spreading Vaseline on the lens of reality, we do need a reminder of our darker proclivities. We need works that remind us of the house of horrors that lurks inside each one of us. And I don’t just mean selfishness, which has been taken up by comedy as a badge of individualism. I mean the twisted desires and perverse compulsions that haunt and frighten each of us. And of course, yes, murder as entertainment is a release for your own feelings of fear dread.
YOA asks: In a recent interview, Anthony Horowitz (creator of Foyle's War, Midsomer Murders, and the new book Magpie Murders) said he believes that "whodunits" give us truth. While The Destroyers isn't a straight, Poirot-style whodunit, the mysteries at the heart of the story: the bomb, the disappearance, the mistaken identities, the deceits (large and small) are reminiscent of these tales. Do you feel that stories like yours help us find truth?
CB answers: Oh, they probably do in a sense, in that we are taught to remain skeptical jurists when listening to the confessions or alibis of each character. But I worry that their inevitable solution—and their hero worship of the detective—often gives the false notion that the truth prevails, that justice is eventually served, that the lie is always brought to light. And that is a dangerous delusion for “whodunits”: that even in their sometimes far-fetched solutions, they promise that a solution will be reached.
YOA asks: We approach this story through the eyes of Ian, a guy who means well but always seems to get it a bit wrong, and who's reached the end of his rope. Since we see the story through his eyes, we still trust him in spite of that. In Orient, we saw the story through the eyes of Mills, a character who was also at the end of his rope, caught just before he slid off into the ether by the last person who was willing to catch him. What is it about this type of character that makes you want to let them tell the story and control the narrative?
CB answers: In one sense, Mills and Ian couldn’t be different characters. Ian is from a wealthy Manhattan family, while Mills doesn’t have more than five dollars to his name; Ian has too much family, and Mills has none; Ian really has no one but himself to blame for his mess, while Mills is really a victim of society in a lot of ways. However, you’re right. No matter where they started psychologically or socio-economically, they are both at the ends of their ropes and in crash circumstances. I like a struggling character, I like someone who is in a position where they can’t sit back and relax, I like a hidden motive to be running through even an ordinary scene of a dinner or a day at the beach. I love what you say about these characters hoping to be saved by “the last person who was willing to catch them”. That’s so true. But doesn’t life often feel as if, behind the solid floors and the comfortable bed and the weekly paychecks, it’s all hanging by a few threads? It only takes a few snips before any of us could be Mills or Ian.
YOA asks: One of the things that brought us to your books was your notoriety as a fan of Agatha Christie :). What did your history as a connoisseur of Christie's work teach you about writing mysteries that delve into the human condition?
CB answers: Quite simply, Agatha Christie taught me to love reading. I don’t mean I had never loved a book before I read Christie at around age eleven. But until I discovered Christie, I had never felt the passion—really the hunger—that brings us running to the shelf as soon as we finish one book to consume another. Christie did that for me, unlocked the pleasure and drug of exciting fiction. So simply on the addictive qualities of her books, I owe her a tremendous debt. Now, on a more philosophical scale, Christie is one of the great advocates of complicated lives, reminding us not to trust our first impressions or believe the official verdict. There is always more to the story.
YOA asks: How do you feel like the crime or mystery fiction genre has changed since Agatha and her contemporaries were writing between the Wars?
CB answers: I am not an expert. I tend to still read all over the map (or bookstore) in terms of genre. I will read horror, sci-fi, poetry, etc. as much as I read from the mystery section. But in my opinion, it hasn’t changed enough. There are lots of trends—serial-killer tropes being the obvious winner—and lots of new geographic regions being promoted. But really the mystery as a form hasn’t been revolutionized or challenged. That might be the fault of us authors for not being harder on ourselves. Or it might be that the murder mystery is such a solid formula that, like a formula in math, it’s really trustworthy in delivering the result. It’s battletested. Still, I’d love to read a mystery that swam in the wrong direction (Paul Auster’s 1985 novel City of Glass is a start).
YOA asks: We recently visited the "Bodies from the Library" conference at the British Library, where a panel discussion focused in part on the fact that the Golden Age's "cozy" mysteries aren't really that cozy at their hearts, the people in them are harboring terrible thoughts, feelings, motives, and actions. Orient and The Destroyers are both mainly set in small, closed worlds (Orient, Patmos) where it's tough to hide or remain a stranger. What draws you to this type of setting?
CB answers: I’ve never understood the word “cozy”—unless it is used cynically/sarcastically to describe the great comfort we humans experience watching other people’s tragedies from a safe distance (and then I think it is a very apt description). Yes, it’s hard to write about buried secrets in the middle of Manhattan, because your neighbors (who you might not know by name let alone by sight) would mostly prefer you kept your secrets buried and left them alone. They simply don’t care! Which is the joy and liberation of living in Manhattan. One of the graces of setting a book in a smaller, isolated, and more socially-knit setting is that your neighbors DO CARE who they are living next to. And they watch. And they remember. There is a personal and cultural history to any set of houses in a small town. So there are clear advantages in setting crimes there merely for the tension of intruding lives.
YOA asks: Following the "Bodies from the Library" conference, we also participated in the "International Agatha Christie: A Reappraisal" conference last month. There was a quite a bit of focus among speakers on the way justice is handled in Christie's books: very often outside the legal system, sometimes through suicide, another murder, or a whisking away of the offender to care. Did that style of justice from authors like Christie influence the way you choose to handle justice in your own work?
CB answers: I don’t believe in justice, and that’s where I part ways with most of the mystery genre. You can see the murder mystery as an inherently conservative form: there is a well-adjusted society until it is thrown into chaos by a murder and the detective comes like a sort of ethical cleaner to detect the agent causing the chaos and remove it, thus restoring harmony to society. But I tend to write from the idea that there was never harmony in the society, and sometimes the agent causing the chaos is the hero and not the villain. So I tend to write in the opposite direction. And thus I celebrate Christie’s occasional fondness for endings that happen outside of the courtroom and leave us wondering about the nature of justice.
YOA asks: AND FINALLY, we have to ask: What is your favorite Agatha Christie book? Feel free to list more than one; we know that's kind of a Sophie's choice!
CB answers: Yikes! I have to list more than one. And it changes. There are so many I admire (The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, A Mirror Crack’d, A Murder is Announced). Even some of the black sheep I admire (The Man in the Brown Suit, They Came to Baghdad). But okay I will pick three: One stand-alone, Ten Little Indians, because I think it changed the way stories are told (no exaggeration); one Poirot, Death on Nile, because it’s so stylish, so far-flung, and so deviously smart; and one Marple, Nemesis, fiendishly clever.
Safe to say we are big fans. Go pick up a copy of The Destroyers today!!!
- E. & A.
