The Disappeared: James Preston Girard

In a perfect world, all talented writers would be around forever, writing books at their own pace and making bestseller lists and acquiring a devoted coterie of fans to worship at their feet. But of course, this world ain’t perfect, and wonderful writers fade into the collective conscious with shocking ease. Which is probably why most of you haven’t heard of Kansas writer James Preston Girard, and that’s a shame, because more people should.

Some of this lack of recognition is due to Girard’s sparse output. He’s written three novels to date, and one of them – A KILLING IN KANSAS (Fawcett Gold Medal, 1991) – was published under the pseudonym Jeffrey Tharp. The two under his own name are separated by a nine-year gap, and SOME SURVIVE (2002) was put out as a paperback original. There’s been nothing since; no wonder his name has fallen off the radar somewhat.

At his best, Girard expertly combined the elements of a good crime novel with nuanced psychological depth, really getting at the heart of his characters and what makes them tick. The crimes are merely a catalyst for human conflicts, and by showing how people’s individual lives are affected by murder placed in the backdrop, the result is, oddly enough, far more profound and effective.

I first heard of him a few years ago when SOME SURVIVE had a fairly prominent place amongst the special title listings at Partners & Crime. The then-manager was a huge fan, and others spoke very highly of Girard’s earlier work, THE LATE MAN (1993). I knew it was a book I’d get around to reading eventually, but since the later book was more readily available, I read it first, and several years later I’m still affected by it. This is a thriller, but leisurely told; there are horrific crimes and suspense, but Girard’s gift is to illuminate the complexities of character and their inherent inconsistencies. A high-priced call girl leaves behind her adopted home of Los Angeles for Wichita after sexual games gone terribly wrong. Meanwhile, police officer Floyd Lassiter is suffering from crippling temporal lobe seizures so he’s never quite sure what he sees is actually reality. As he gets tangled up in Celeste’s world, he also meets with the far quieter Jes Wellington, a writer with some sort of connection as well. But does she really? Or is everything a figment of Lassiter’s mind? The blurring of fantasy and reality and Girard’s sensitive portrayal of Lassiter’s condition makes SOME SURVIVE a rather cerebral sort of thriller, but it works.

That said, I didn’t like it as much as THE LATE MAN, which I read not too long ago. Simply put, if there’s a book I want to emulate, copy, steal or whatever, it’s the one. The fact that it’s out of print also says a lot, but it could be because literary thrillers are incredibly difficult to market, especially when their publication date is now a dozen years old. Running in the background is the once-dormant investigation of a serial killer who places roses by each victim’s side that flares up once again when a new victim is discovered. Though there is a resolution, the book is really about the lives and flaws of its three main protagonists: police Captain L.J. Loomis, journalist Sam Haun (the “late man” because he works the overnight shift at the paper) and rising star Stosh Babicki.

Each character wrestles with palpable demons, mostly to do with failing relationships: Loomis has lost his wife to another man and misses her and their children, whom he does not see, terribly. Haun’s wife Claire and younger son are dead, and in its aftermath he chances upon Claire’s diary, confessing in great detail to an affair with the newspaper’s main boss. Who, at this time, is having his own affair with the intelligent but impressionable Babicki. Is that affair a case of real love, manipulation, or something in between? Babicki doesn’t really know for sure, but, as she discovers, it’s a vise she must ungrip herself from.

THE LATE MAN is ultimately about loss of every kind, and Girard writes of such things with an almost terrible knowledge; even if he didn’t know about it personally, his characters do, and very well at that. Though at times uncomfortable, the writing is so beautiful and understated that the emotional heft packs a wallop. What’s also gripping is what is left unspoken and unresolved; Girard doesn’t hit the reader over the head with revelations and conclusions but allows them to find them out of their own accord. It’s intelligent writing that’s extremely well-done.

Because Girard is a Wichita native, there’s another undercurrent that fascinates me, and that’s the ever-looming shadow of the BTK killer. Now that one of the most famed unmasked serial killers is a regular staple in the news again, it’s high time one of the finest crime writers to emerge from this city gets his due. Never mind that because Girard himself was a reporter during the killer’s heyday and aftermath, he no doubt has a wealth of stories to share – or more likely, to keep secret. But if, by some chance, he ever wrestles with BTK in fiction, I’ll be the first in line to read it.

Assuming he is actually picking up his pen to write something. When last heard from, he claimed to be working on “a nonfiction book about a murder investigation and trial in Junction City in the late 1990s.” No doubt such endeavors require time and effort and research, but here’s hoping Girard gets back to what he does best – writing wonderfully crafted, supremely intelligent crime novels.