Last time I wrote one of these, I spoke on the incomparable Mollusc, by Dan Draper. In that article, I admittedly openly that I never expected it to be a story that people cited as a favourite, despite how much I loved it, and I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be one of the most popular pieces of fiction I’ve published. Honestly, if you haven’t already, go and read it.
Anyway, we come now to The Wrong Bones, which is sort of the opposite of Mollusc in that I knew instantly upon finishing it that people would love it. Of course, that’s not a good enough reason to publish something in and of itself, but it certainly helps.
So why did I publish it?
Well, let’s look at the story itself. Not only does it have one distinct viewpoint, Elder employs three. Two would be marvellous, as a lot of writers struggle to get even one wholly rounded and distinct narrative voice in their work, but three? It’s an incredible achievement right off the bat, but done in a way that’s not gimmicky, and is instead integral to the plot.
The plot itself is classic cold-blooded crime fiction. A murder has been committed. Violence permeates the story from top to bottom in a markedly matter-of-fact manner. It isn’t there to shock or inspire revulsion, instead it’s a slow lifting back of the idea that violence isn’t a new thing. As grotesque and awful as it is, it’s this idea and the truth of it that provides a spine for the story. It’s presented alongside ideas we’re all well aware of thanks to a steady diet of true-crime and police procedurals about how investigations work, but it’s framed as the recollections of someone who’s already dead.
So, to recap. So far, not only do we have an intriguing premise that mulls over the endless cycle of violence, but we also have a hook (the murder), and three distinct narrative voices. Again, any one of these would be enough to recommend the story by itself, but Elder isn’t done with us yet.
Not only do we get the perspective of the victim, but the perpetrator too. And then, to cap it all, we get a historic perspective from a victim from another time. Again, this isn’t showboating, this is all essential to the plot of the thing, which is the final piece of the puzzle as to why it struck a chord with me, and no doubt everyone else who’s cited it as an inspiration too. The story unfolds hand in hand with this intricate and incredibly clever feat of writing and structure, the two inseparable from each other.
Not only does Hilary Elder pull all of this off with aplomb, but she does it inside of 2000 words. The Wrong Bones manages to fit more story into it than many novels I’ve read that are dozens of times its length, and often lack as compelling characters as The Wrong Bones can boast.
Coming back to it now, rereading it again for the umpteenth time in preparation to write this article, I’m struck by the skill shown here. It’s easy to be awed by the achievements of the piece, the weaving together of so many clever ideas into a single, harmonious whole in which everything just works. I read it again, and to me it’s almost like the first time I read it. It’s stunning, a magnificent piece of work, and if I were submitting to Northern Gravy, chances are it’d be the piece I chose to include in my email as one of my favourites.
