63 pages • 2 hours read
Benjamin StevensonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect uses characterization, setting, plot, and metafictional elements to satirize literary culture and the egos of authors. The book’s very premise pokes fun at the overinflated self-image of publishing, as the Australian Mystery Writers’ Festival celebrates itself by booking its 50th anniversary gathering aboard the luxurious Ghan. It’s a trip that relatively few fans can afford, but the sparse attendance seems less important than the prestige of such a setting. Most of the authors, agents, and publishers among the novel’s characters are portrayed as at least egocentric and callous. Both Simone and Wyatt break laws, extort others, and take advantage of their own authors to make money and further their careers. Ernie is actually somewhat frightened of Simone, and he comments that he supposes he “should be grateful she’s on [his] side” (14). The writers are all hyperconscious of their relative statuses; they know one another’s sales figures, read one another’s reviews, and keep track of one another’s awards. Several of them take advantage of any opportunity to bolster their own prestige by putting down a fellow author: Their comically extreme backbiting and sniping is even more obvious when juxtaposed against the kinder approaches of Juliette and Jasper. Popular authors like McTavish lap up fans’ attention yet treat them dismissively—or, worse, try to take advantage of them, as McTavish does with Brooke. Less popular authors beg for blurbs to try to boost their sales or retreat into bitterness, consoling themselves by denigrating commercial literature.
The novel establishes that this isn’t simply a chance assembly of people who happen to be ruthless and self-involved. It lays the blame squarely on the publishing world’s competitive and profit-driven culture: Simone is the way she is, for instance, because of a culture of misogyny within publishing that holds space for men by putting women at a disadvantage. It’s such a competitive world that it has its own finely tuned insults masquerading as politeness, as when Fulton insults Royce by saying that her mother enjoys his books. In Ernie’s metafictional commentary about the process of writing the book, he’s constantly aware of needing to craft his work around the publisher’s desire to maximize profit. He mentions, for instance, how his publisher is trying to intervene in his writing process through marketing demands. Even Ernie’s proposal to Juliette is partially motivated, he lets readers know, by Simone’s expectation that the book will contain some romance.
As metafiction, Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect considers the relationship between truth and fiction as a primary concern. It playfully insists on itself as truthful even as it underscores its status as fiction and demonstrates that even language one might call “true” can be designed to misdirect. The novel presents its story as Ernie’s nonfiction account of true events. Strategies like the emails in the Prologue and Part 9 repeatedly joke about how Ernie can’t make “reality” conform to genre rules, and his frustration over “real” people’s lack of creative dialogue creates an appearance of verisimilitude. Nevertheless, readers are hyperconscious of the text’s fictional nature. Ernie’s constant references to the rules of genre, his direct addresses to readers, his blunt foreshadowing, his internal and external allusions, and his dissection of his authorial choices call readers’ attention to the text as an artificial, created object over and over again. The novel becomes an elaborate meditation on how the language that it uses to create the pretend world of fiction can mirror the appearance of reality.
Additionally, most characters in the novel demonstrate how language can be used to manipulate people’s understanding of reality. Some of the characters use language as a blunt tool, opting to simply lie when they want to manipulate others’ perceptions, as when Brooke lies to Ernie in Chapter 15 and Simone lies to him in Chapter 18. However, others are more skillful with language and can use half-truths and artful phrasing to create false impressions without ever telling a lie. For example, Royce tells a half-truth about his forensic background deliberately designed to mislead people into thinking he was a pathologist. Harriet and Jasper both make completely truthful statements about McTavish’s books and Jasper’s writing without revealing that Jasper, in fact, authored most of McTavish’s novels. Despite Ernie’s promises to be a forthright, fair-play narrator, he himself is guilty of using language to mislead. When he first talks with Douglas, he tells readers, “I normally would have accused myself of overthinking it if, of course, he hadn’t just lied to me” (88). In fact, Douglas isn’t lying: This is simply Ernie’s impression in the moment, but the Ernie narrating the story later doesn’t bother to mention this. Ernie also uses clever wording to mislead, as when he notes that “a drink with” McTavish will inspire the book (17).
Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect is both a parody of golden-age mysteries and a loving homage to them. The conventions of this genre structure the novel’s action: Ernie explicitly lays out rules for the order of typical events and the word counts at which they should occur and then does his best to hit these targets. He makes frequent mentions of the “fair-play” rules of golden-age mysteries and pledges to abide by them. The author has particular fun with the classical denouement scene, staging it not once but twice and having the novel’s only non-literary characters—the train employees and the detective—clearly express boredom and frustration about this old-fashioned technique. Repeatedly drawing readers’ attention to genre in this way isn’t really about golden-age mysteries in particular, however: It functions as a metafictional technique that asks critical questions about the repetitiveness of genre standards and whether one can be creative and engaging within these boundaries. The humor and inventiveness Stevenson injects into his own version of a golden-age mystery is a powerful argument that even within genre boundaries, there is room for the creativity that makes writing meaningful. Without breaking the rules of golden-age mysteries in any significant way, Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect provides surprising variations that offer amusement and make the mystery engaging.
In addition, the novel suggests that the existence of genre rules is part of what makes such creativity possible. The humor of Chapter 11.5, for example—Ernie’s playful list of the “reader’s” supposed suspects and reasoning—relies on readers having previously encountered the golden-age-mystery convention of the detective making a list of suspects and evidence. Ernie’s constant reminders about the “fair-play” rules creates a sort of sleight-of-hand that draws attention away from the text’s artful manipulation of “truth”—and this relies in part on the readers having perused books featuring the straight-talking detectives of golden-age mysteries. The novel’s closing commentary on sequels argues that repetition offers a chance to make improvements and demonstrate growth. This idea can be applied to the novel’s arguments regarding genre as well: The established precedent of genre conventions provides a basis from which a writer might depart, using variation to innovate and to demonstrate growth.
By Benjamin Stevenson
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