Review: The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith

By now, it's common knowledge that Robert Galbraith, author of last year's critically acclaimed mystery novel, The Cuckoo's Calling, is actually Harry Potter creator J.K. Rowling. I was a big Harry Potter fan in high school, and when I read Rowling's first adult novel, A Casual Vacancy, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I could never stop contrasting it to her early work. I did the same with The Cuckoo's Calling, though not as much. Well, I'm happy to say that I've finally kicked that habit. While reading "Galbraith's" second novel, The Silkworm, I never forgot that J.K. Rowling was behind every word, but I barely thought about Harry at all.

I'm not going to give away the ending to this book, or it's predecessor, but if you know the first one's story (Cormoran Strike, a decorated Afghanistan war veteran turned private detective, is hired to investigate the alleged suicide of a famous model), then you won't be surprised to hear that he successfully proved that the suicide was a murder, or that the resulting publicity granted him an influx of clients. The majority of Strike's new jobs are standard private investigator stuff involving sexual infidelity, but there is one that catches his interest: a woman named Leonora Quine hires him to track down her missing husband, an egotistical novelist named Owen Quine. Leonora thinks that he's run off to a writer's retreat. He hasn't; when Strike does find Quine... well, I won't describe the body in detail, but I will say that it's not pretty.

Two of Rowling's three greatest strengths are her characterization and her plotting. (Her third strength is worldbuilding, which doesn't factor into a book like this, set in real-world London.) Like all good mysteries, this one has a strong lineup of suspects; among the most memorable are: Elizabeth Tassel, Quine's long-suffering yet thoroughly unpleasant agent; Kathryn Kent, a writer whose blog posts make Zero Wing look like Strunk and White's The Elements of Style; and Michael Fancourt, an established novelist and rival of Quine's. All of these people (and more!) have their own individual reasons to loathe Mr. Quine, but they've also got a stronger, shared motive: his last, unpublished novel, Bombyx Mori (latin for "silkworm of the mulberry tree," according to Wikipedia) includes insulting and in some cases outright libelous depictions of many of Quine's associates. Fortunately, all of the characters are genuinely interesting, fleshed-out people. In typical Rowling fashion, some of these characters can come across as more humorous than serious, but they never become full-fledged comic relief.

I can't discuss the plot in detail without giving too much away, but I will say that I found the solution a bit out there. The Silkworm reminds me of A.A. Milne's The Red House Murder, insofar as both books involve a particularly complicated deception that completely turns the case on its head. Okay, so plot twists are an important part of a good mystery, but some have more of a "conspiracy theory" vibe to them. Compared to The Silkworm, The Cuckoo's Calling was much more believable. But then that's exactly why I preferred Strike's sophomore adventure to the original. I like mysteries with clever, unlikely-but-still-possible solutions, as long as they don't involve hiding evidence from the reader, and The Silkworm never cheats like that. It has a tough answer, but a fair one.

It's worth noting that, for a mystery novel, this book puts a lot of emphasis on the characters' love lives. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, mind you, but it isn't always necessary. The references to Strike's ex-girlfriend and her impending marriage, in particular, don't feel like an organic part of this novel so much as a set-up for a bigger plot point in a later book. Robin's subplot--that her fiance is jealous of her relationship with Strike--is a lot more fleshed-out and interesting, but it runs parallel to the Owen Quine plot more than it runs through it. It does make Strike and Robin feel more like real people, but if you don't like books with unnecessary romantic subplots thrown in, you'll probably get annoyed by this one.

A lot of people used to wonder if J.K. Rowling would ever escape Harry Potter's shadow. Well, that's hard to say. She's written three non-fantasy novels, all of which have sold well (though A Casual Vacancy has a lot of detractors, even among Harry Potter and Cormoran Strike fans), but none of them have entered the public consciousness in the same way as the Harry Potter books. Try asking your friends if they know who Dobby the House Elf or Vernon Dursley are, then ask them about Cormoran Strike, and you'll still find Harry's supporting cast getting a lot more recognition than Rowling's newest hero. I imagine that the Boy Who Lived will always be Rowling's most famous creation. Even so, The Silkworm proves once again that he's going to have some very well-written, entertaining, and memorable siblings.

We Only Have One Weakness: Rat Pfink a Boo Boo a Me

Do you have a guilty pleasure? Something that you love, even though you can't for the life of you figure out why? Maybe it's a book with terrible writing, or a singer who can't sing. Well, I have one. It's a low-budget, black-and-white movie from 1966 called Rat Pfink a Boo Boo. It was directed by Ray Dennis Steckler, best known for the movie The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies (which was featured on Mystery Science Theatre 3000). Rat Pfink a Boo Boo is one of the worst movies I've ever seen. Every year or two, I get the urge to rewatch it, and I never tire of doing so.

The film stars real-life singer Ron Haydock as fictional singer Lonnie Lord; Steckler's real-life wife Carolyn Brandt as Lonnie's fictional girlfriend, Cee Bee Beaumont; and real-life Titus Moede as a fictional gardener named Titus, last name Twimbly. Standing between this trio and a happy ending are the Chain Gang: Linc (named after a chain he always carries around with him), Hammer (named after a hammer that he always carries around with him), and Benji (who is unarmed but laughs a lot and doesn't seemed to be named after anything)--played by George Caldwell, Mike Kannon, and James Bowie, respectively.

The story kicks off with the Chain Gang, bored and looking for someone to harass, deciding to pick a random name out of the phone book; they end up picking Cee Bee. It's a terrifying premise, but to be honest, Rat Pfink a Boo Boo isn't as frightening as it could be. Of course, that's all subjective, and I have seen people who disagree with me on that one. There's one noteworthy sequence, about 17 minutes in, where Linc follows Cee Bee to the store, successfully remaining unseen the entire time. He ultimately walks off without doing anything; clearly Steckler values terror over horror. Admittedly, the sequence works on paper, and I can understand why some people would like it. The main problem for me is that, as I've already mentioned, this movie's acting and writing are very poor. Consequently, I can never find myself worrying too much about Cee Bee because I never really forget that she's actually Carolyn Brandt playing Cee Bee in a movie.

I do sort of like the musical numbers, though. I suppose that might say more about my own personal taste in music than anything, but most of the musical sequences are fun and upbeat and... wait, what's that? You don't think a movie about three violent criminals stalking a young woman should have upbeat musical numbers? Well, it probably shouldn't. I also want to point out that although Lonnie and Cee Bee don't seem to be having any relationship problems, three of his four songs are about cheating girlfriends. But if you can get past how thematically inappropriate the songs are, these scenes really aren't that bad. Certainly not Busby Berkeley, but they're still fun and filled with energy, and the music is actually kind of catchy.

But that's not why I love this movie.

After Steckler had shot about half of this picture, he started to lose interest in his idea. However, he wasn't willing to throw out all that footage, so instead he decided to take the film in a different direction. The Chain Gang, switching their motivation to something a bit more financially rewarding, decide to kidnap Cee Bee. Lonnie, after hearing the terrible news, decides to pass the time singing one of his less-upbeat cheating songs. Eventually, he gets a phone call from Benji, who demands a $50,000 ransom, to be paid that night, in exchange for Cee Bee's safe return. Lonnie says that it'll take him until at least the following morning to raise that kind of money, but Benji isn't interested in letting logic spoil his payday; he just repeats his demand: $50,000 by tonight, or Cee Bee's "had it."

His back against the wall, Lonnie decides that there's only one option left.

"This looks like a job for You Know and Who," he tells Titus, and the two of them step into the closet. They emerge about a minute later, dressed like this:

"Remember, Boo Boo, we only have one weakness," says Lonnie.

"What's that, Rat Pfink?" asks Titus.

"Bullets!"

So now, at the half-way point, and with absolutely no foreshadowing whatsoever, Lonnie and Titus finally reveal their superhero alter egos. The movie has abandoned all pretenses of being a serious crime story, instead choosing to live out its remaining screen time as a campy Batman spoof--and this is before Adam West started playing the Caped Crusader, I might add. The movie even switches from a sepia tint to a pink one at very moment it becomes a comedy, though that might have been added to my copy of the DVD.

The second half of the movie is what cinches it for me. The plot from this point on is simple: Rat Pfink and Boo Boo hop on their motorcycle and chase the Chain Gang around, getting into fist fights when necessary, until a gorilla shows up out of nowhere and kidnaps Cee Bee. (Hey, simple isn't the same thing as predictable.) The jokes aren't particularly clever, but there's a certain charm to them. Here's one of my favorites: during a fight scene, Boo Boo falls and breaks his watch. Benji stops fighting and offers to fix the watch, tosses it to the ground and stomps on it several time, then returns it. When Boo Boo puts it back on, he is delighted to find that it's working again, and leaves himself open to a sucker-punch. Okay, so it isn't exactly Peter Sellers. But I can't think of many filmmakers who would put a joke that ridiculous in a movie, and fewer still who would put it in what had lived its first 40 minutes of life as a drama.

So now I'll circle back to my original question: why do I like this movie so much? The answer is that I honestly don't know. I guess that a good guilty pleasure also has but a single weakness: you can't always explain it. Why have I seen Rat Pfink A Boo Boo more times than Citizen Kane, or Casablanca, or The Godfather, or any of the other cinematic masterpieces that clearly deserve such attention more than this movie does? It hardly seems fair. But then personal taste is a funny thing, and the fact remains that Rat Pfink a Boo Boo is a personal, desert-island-list favorite of mine. I'm not going to claim it's a great movie. Heck, I'm not even going to claim it's a competent movie. Sure, Steckler was a smart guy: he had some good ideas, could get a lot of mileage out of a shoestring budget, and his cinematography was actually pretty good. But that doesn't change the fact that Rat Pfink a Boo Boo inhabits the same corner of the cinematic landscape that Plan 9 From Outer Space, Trolls 2, and Manos: Hand of Fate dominate. This movie's greatest draw is the jarring difference in tone between it's first and second half. I mean, if I had to watch the two halves separately, would I like the movie? What if it came out as originally envisioned, with no superhero elements? Or if it was a campy superhero spoof all the way through? I just don't know.

And yet I do love the movie. And here's the embarrassing part: I don't even love it ironically. I don't put myself above the movie, or laugh at how bad it is.

Then why?

I suppose that I love the movie because of everything it is and everything it does, whether right or wrong. I love the camp, I love the dialogue, I love the music, I love the jokes, I love the novelty, and I love those things when they're at their best and I love them when they're at their worst. But most of all, I love this movie because it's just plain fun. A lot of bad movies get that way because no one on the crew really cared about it--it was a job and a paycheck, but nothing more. Rat Pfink a Boo Boo doesn't have that problem--it was clearly a labor of love, and the result is a movie that (for lack of a more secular term) has a soul, or maybe two or three different souls. Some things are simply better than the sum of their parts, even when some of those parts are rusty and others look like they got put in the wrong box by mistake. Rat Pfink a Boo Boo might be a ridiculous mess of a movie, but it'll always have a place in my collection.