Questions from real-world tragedies

Press, 21 December 1985, Page 20

Questions from real-world tragedies

Somebody's Husband, Somebody’a Son. By Gordon Bum. Pan, 1985. 988 pp. $10.95 (paperback). The Falcon and the Snowman. By Robert Llndaay. Penguin, 1985.418 pp. $9.95.

(Reviewed by

Ken Strongman)

Each of these books tells a detailed, true story of recent events; in one case of a series of grotesque murders; in the other, of ingenuous spying. The accounts are very full and seem to have been researched in impressive detail. They compel the attention as the events unfold with the inexorability of sand trickling through an hour-glass. Peter Sutcliffe seemed preordained to murder, and Chris Boyce and Daulton Lee appeared to have little choice in their headlong descent into a conspiracy against their country. “Somebody’s Husband, Somebody’s Son’’ is the simply told, brutal story of The Yorkshire Ripper, now serving a 30-year “life” sentence for his multiple murders. He is unlikely ever again to see the outside world, having terrorised Yorkshire and in particular the town of Bingley (scene of John Braine’s “Room at the Top”). “The Falcon and the Snowman” is the more complex description of the chances which brought two privileged young Americans to put together their talents to mount a plot with the Russians —

against their own country. Some years ago, “In Cold Blood” and, more significantly, “Beyond Belief,” set a standard of powerful story-telling around appalling murders, which it is hard to match. Of course, it may be that there are few writers with the stomach for the job. And, it should be said, Gordon Burn’s story of The Yorkshire Ripper is not as devastatingly well-written as Emlyn Williams’ analysis of the moors murders. The fascinating aspect of “Beyond Belief' is that by the time one reads of Brady and Bindley committing their first murder, it seems obvious that they must. Their lives and the influences on them leave them no choice. Williams makes a very strong environmental argument. However, Peter Sutcliffe’s first murder comes as a surprise to the reader. Although his environment is somewhat wanting, the impression is clear that the fault somehow lies within him. Such is also the case with “The Falcon and the Snowman.” Here the comparison is not so much with other true-life spy stories as with Meyer Levin’s “Compulsion,” the story of Leopold and Loeb. In both cases, young American males with most of life’s material advantages seem to reject them capriciously, or almost at a whim. Again, the flaw (if there is one

in the case of Boyce and Lee) seems to lie within themselves rather than in their environment, at least as the story is told. Both of these books are worth reading. They are not studies in criminology or espionage, but portray recent episodes in the lives of some of those who have played infamous roles in society. However, although they are fine and thorough descriptions that almost have the power of fiction, they leave one hungry for explanation. They purport to provide accounts of the reasons that might push ordinary people into becoming spies or murderers, but they only describe. They leave one full of questions. Why should two young men from the many thousands in affluent America become amateur spies, or at least spy amateurishly? Why should one man from a Bingley family develop a taste for battering women to death with a hammer and then ripping them? Is any one of us at risk of committing such crimes? What is it about genetic and environmental quirks that makes such things possible? These are very complex questions, the. answers to which can only be hinted at in books of this sort, no matter how carefully they are researched. However, they do provide an important and perhaps necessary beginning.