Dark Side of the Morgue
Raymond Benson

Reviewed by Susan Helene Gottfried

I always get excited when I'm asked to review a book of rock and roll fiction. It's genuinely my favorite genre of literature and I swear, I can never get enough of it.

            Enter Raymond Benson's Dark Side of the Morgue. Mr. Benson has quite the writing resume: he spent six years penning the James Bond 007 novels. And if that's not enough, he also wrote two Tom Clancy Splinter Cell books.

            Yep, I figured, I'm in good hands.

            Except, sadly, I wasn't.

            The plot is solid: someone is killing the members of Chicago's Progressive Music scene. A still-alive member contacts rock and roll private investigator Spike Berenger in the hopes that Spike can help him stay alive. Spike, a fan of progressive rock, is on the next plane to Chicago, his partner Suzanne in tow.

            Using progressive rock as the music around which this story revolves is a great idea. Prog rock, as it's often called, isn't something we talk about much anymore. Its heyday was back in the seventies; now, when you talk about Prog Rock, you're either talking about (sadly) almost-dinosaurs like Yes or about the new progressive metal bands like Dream Theater. If you're asking who they are, that proves my point: these bands aren't exactly the staples of popular music. It is this underground element that makes prog rock such a great fictional element: we don't have a lot of preconceptions as we would if, say, there were yet another Britney Spears-type character running around. The characters in Dark Side, to Mr. Benson's credit, are all fresh. They are real, and they don't give in to stereotypes.

            Thus, the setting, the characters, and the plot aren't the problem. Even though I was able to figure out who the killer was before Spike, the plot provides a fun ride as it unravels. But, then, given Benson's past writing experience, that makes sense.

            What doesn't make sense is stilted writing and unrealistic dialogue. Listen to the people around you speak. Do they use the name of the person they're speaking to? If so, how often?

            I promise you, it's not nearly as often as the characters in this book do. This becomes one of the book's downfalls: what these people are saying doesn't seem like a conversation you'd overhear or be part of. If you don't believe me, read some of the dialogue out loud.

            There are other quibbles, as well. In the first chapter, very few people come out to see one of the bands at story's center. In fact, Charles Nance is worrying about being able to meet the band's payroll. Yet by story's end, a benefit concert for Charles and the other victims of the murderer takes place in a very popular venue -- on a Friday night. Fans from all over the world, including Japan, arrive. On less than five day's notice. And did I mention that not only does the event sell out, but there are people outside, doing almost anything to get in. This doesn't ring true on many accounts: a venue as popular as we're told this one is would already have been booked for a Friday night. A band who can't fill a small local club won't suddenly pull in thousands of fans on less than a week's notice. And let's not forget those fans who'll have to spend more than twenty-four hours in the air -- among other considerations -- in order to make it on time. With a killer on the loose, surely some of them are concerned about a replay of the Dimebag Darrell scenario a few years ago, when the famed (real-life) guitarist was murdered on stage, for everyone to see. I can understand how that would actually keep many fans from attending the show even as I can understand how the potential of seeing someone die would be a draw for others.

            While we're talking about music, let me mention the playlist the author has put together to accompany the book. This is a fabulous idea, and the fact that each song has been chosen to frame each chapter makes it that much better. But… this playlist should have been a golden opportunity to educate Benson's readers about prog rock. Instead, bands such as Disturbed, Bo Diddley, and Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band fill the playlist. There is nothing progressive about any of these bands -- or most of the others on the list. While it's nice to include music widely recognized by a mainstream audience (although how many people know that a band like Nine Inch Nails is not as satanic as the media often makes them out to be?), it would have been nicer to see more entries like Emerson, Lake & Palmer and David Bowie. Surely there was something in Rush's exhaustive body of work -- even from their more commercial eras -- that would have been just as appropriate.

            Back to the story. The lead characters, Spike and Suzanne, make implausible decisions. They are professional private investigators; therefore, I have trouble believing they'll remain on a case that isn't providing a paycheck, let alone covering their expenses. I am also disappointed that Spike personally witnesses several killings of people who are standing right beside him -- people who he admires and likes -- and yet he has absolutely no emotional reaction whatsover. I know Iraqi war veterans who aren't that cold. Not to mention the way he and his partner into a seemingly empty house without backup or each other. It's simply not realistic, and for both Spike and Suzanne to do it… really. This isn't a firm I'd hire to protect any band I'm involved with.

            By the end of Dark Side of the Morgue, all the potential I saw at the beginning has been lost. It's a shame because like the idea of progressive rock -- long musical passages designed to show off the musician's skill; thought-provoking lyrics; and a refusal to conform to convention -- this book could have been something that transported us to new areas, musically as well as within the comfortable confines of what we expect from a recurring hero in a mystery series.

            Eternal optimist that I am, I'll hope for better the next time Mr. Benson lets Spike Berenger grace a novel's pages. But my expectations have been severely diminished.