The Critics’ Corner

Happy Ambiguities

by Gary Inbinder and Don Webb

Rebecca D. Elswick’s “What’s Yours Is Mine” is a mystery story that begins as though it’s going to be a cautionary tale about a spoiled, avaricious girl (e.g Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Red Shoes”) but then evolves into something like Françoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse, the story of a spoiled teen who plots against her prospective stepmother, with tragic results.

“What’s Yours...” then takes an interesting and unexpected twist: does Brittany play “Nancy Drew” to discover her stepmother’s plot to murder the father, or does Brittany accumulate the circumstantial evidence against Lynn — the manipulation of the friend is a nice touch — so that she can kill the old man and then pin the murder on the “wicked stepmother”?

I think there’s enough foreshadowing, beginning with the classroom discussion of the deadly sin of avarice, and the title itself, to indicate that Brittany is capable of getting rid of both her father and stepmother for revenge and to gain an inheritance for herself. There’s also an undercurrent of sexual jealousy, again reminiscent of Bonjour Tristesse.

And the following line is the payoff:

“When her stepmother disappeared inside the ambulance with her father, Brittany buried her face in her hands so the neighbors assembled to comfort her wouldn’t see her smile.”

That’s a typical Alfred Hitchcock or Agatha Christie ending, and I think it works.

Gary Inbinder

One thing seems sure: “What’s Yours Is Mine” will not win recommendations from readers who want a pristine pure heroine, a crystal-clear plot, or family values. Comforting it ain’t.

A high-school literature class could form groups, half acting as lawyers for the prosecution and half, for the defense. At the end, the groups on each side pool their findings and present their cases. There would be no jury, because the object is — like the story — to present the case, not to decide it.

In issue 310, “The Unanswered Question,” “Behold the Garrohoth,” and “What’s Yours Is Mine” all seem to employ in one form or another what one might call, technically, happy ambiguities.

Don