Watching Michael Winterbottom’s great adaptation of Jim Thompson’s The Killer inside Me yesterday, I was struck by Casey Affleck’s portrayal of Lou Ford, an absolute outsider, capable of reading the unwritten laws of civil relations, but utterly unable to understand them. His mimicry of polite society is keen enough to allow him to pass undetected beneath the nose of the citizenry and even be esteemed by many, but never has it worked its way into his character. He’s polite and charming and can (and does) often rattle off some homilies about the social contract—Here you’re a man and a gentleman, or you’re nothing at all.—but when it comes down to it, (and it begins to happen with alarming frequency), he breaks that contract without pause.
He’s even gleeful about it on a level, reveling in his own cleverness and superiority. "Nobody has it coming. That’s why nobody sees it coming."
The subtle changes in Affleck’s face as he shifts gears from aw-shucks gentleman to merciless killer are priceless. He’s pushed into a corner and well, he just doesn’t see any other alternative, but to kill that poor girl. And keeping with classic criminal psychology, he blames his victims for their fate.
The same anti-social traits reside within young Toby, a middle school outsider, and the protagonist of John Brandon’s latest Citrus County. He walks among us, but is something other. He’s convinced of it anyhow. He’s so desperate to prove himself an unstoppable force of evil, (instead of simply an awkward middle school dweeb), that he kidnaps the kid sister of one of his classmates, and keeps her in a cellar in the woods.
The audacity of the act collides with the relative innocence of the offender in a truly unsettling way and the consequences of his actions are really the focus of the novel. The small Florida town is stunned, the victim’s family is devastated and Toby, (while never considering apologizing and not really approaching remorse), begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake.
Ironies pile up as Shelby, the sister of Toby’s victim and the true target of his malice, (she’s his opposite, adored by family, authority, and peers), sets her adolescent affections on him and Toby takes his responsibilities in caring for his victim and covering his tracks seriously, while his teacher, Mr. Hibma teeters on the edge of darkness, nursing his own latent murderous capabilities.
The crime is perpetrated to assert Toby’s power, the sheer force of his will, and doesn’t manifest itself in ransom demands or sexual abuse, but we’re invited to wonder if this is simply the first step in Toby’s life path and if those things lie along his trajectory. At the same time, we’re asked to consider the possibility of redemption for him. The weight of the impending climax thankfully keeps this often sweet and clever book from becoming too precious while the humor and humanity supply contrast enough to make the crime story all too imaginable and, (appropriately), uncomfortable.
The offense of kidnapping, whatever the motivation, lands a unique spot in my hierarchy of evils. The assertion of one’s own importance over another to that level is never short of astonishing to me and I guess that’s why I’m drawn to material like Dave Zeltserman’s Pariah, Ken Bruen’s Rilke on Black, Jim Thompson’s After Dark, My Sweet, Ace Atkins’ Infamous or films like the astonishing Julia, Secuestro Express, or Alpha Dog. I am also riveted by this article and excerpt from Kyle Minor's upcoming A Kidnapping In Haiti. That guy can write.
Am I alone? Do you have some kidnapping tales worth exploring?
Jedidiah Ayres writes fiction and keeps the blog Hardboiled Wonderland.
