My secret ambition in life is to become like Ian Rankin. He has achieved everything I dream of. (Except one: his PhD thesis remains uncompleted. Brrrr, touch wood.) Living in Edinburgh, my favourite city, he has written well-recognised crime novels.
I have been told a few times that it is a great irony that I like murder mysteries. “Someone who is inherently unable to bear any kinds of violence, someone who simply refuses to see any scenes of a film if there is blood or screaming?”, so they questioned. Indeed, that is why I am not as eager to watch TV adaptations of his books, such as Rebus on ITV.
After giving it a thought, my conclusion is that I read murder mysteries because I take comfort in the fact that there is no perfect crime in such stories. No matter how neatly a murder was premeditated and committed, somebody like Rebus will outsmart the murderers and catch them. That’s a relief.