Such legal math seems integral to the pleasurable reading of crime fiction.įrom the beginning of Oyinkan Braithwaite’s darkly compelling My Sister, the Serial Killer, protagonist Korede suffers no illusion about her complicity. The reader so deeply empathizes with the protagonist that she actively engages in the story. These are moments fiction writers strive for. I try remembering past episodes of Law & Order, search my mind for fictional or even real examples of characters or people escaping prosecution despite full knowledge of the offense. I hope to prove to myself that the protagonist’s knowledge of the crime and not coming forward about it is not, in fact, a crime itself. While enjoying such a story, I typically try to massage the law in my head. Worse, now that the main character knows about the crime, she might be in trouble too. This is someone the protagonist cares deeply about, and that someone is in big trouble. At such a moment, a wonderful gap opens in both the character and reader.
WOE BE TO the novel protagonist that finds out a loved one is complicit in a serious crime.
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