Here at Casa Mysterioso, instead of recycled site-owner publicity, we offer interviews with other people in the arts--writers, musicians, actors, entertainers, and sometimes just plain characters. We add new ones all the time, and site visitors are invited to contribute. If we use your interview, we'll pay $35. Query by e-mail.

Interview with Jan Burke
Interview with Jeremiah Healy
Ben and Diane (An Interview with Stephen Booth)
Cold Days and Deadly Nights (An Interview with Steve Hamilton)
Mysteries (An Interview with Irene Marcuse)
The Stone Monkey (An Interview with Jeff Deaver)
The Salaryman's Wife (An Interview with Sujata Massey)
A Kiss Gone Bad (An Interview with Jeff Abbott)
Charlotte Justice (An Interview with Paula Woods)
Blood Money (An Interview with Rochelle Krich)
Letter From New Orleans: (An interview With Andy J. Forest)
The Lady From Charm City (An Interview with Laura Lippman)
Crescent City Views (An Interview with Anne Rice)


An Interview with Jan Burke
by Andi Shechter

AS is interviewer Andi Shechter; JB is Jan Burke.

 AS:  For several books, of course, the story was told from the point of view of reporter Irene Kelly.  What caused you to decide to tell the story from Frank's perspective?

 JB:  The idea for Flight had been in my mind for several years.  Fortunately, Marysue Rucci, who became my editor when I was working on Bones, agreed that it made sense to do a book from Frank Harriman's perspective at that point in the series.

 What happens to Irene in Bones is intense.  I didn't want to follow up with a less intense story, and to tell another, equally intense story from her perspective was to run the risk of making her a cartoonish superhero.  I didn't want to strain reader credibility.

 This also gave me a chance to write something that was going to allow me to write a book that had more forensic science and law enforcement procedure in it, which I enjoyed. 

 AS:  I know we're going back a few books, but I found Hocus to have a fascinating story.  You picked up on a story about two young  victims of a crime and its effect on them as adults. How did that come about?

 JB:  Thanks.  As for the seeds of it, that came about from research I had been doing about kidnapping and hostage-taking, and how it affects all involved long after the camera crews leave.  That ultimately led me to think about the fact that many of us have lives that become damaged in one way or another, and how some of us overcome it better than others.  For a number of reasons, the psychology of resilience and human coping strategies fascinate me.

 AS:  One unique thread in all your books is the conflict between professional and personal in the lives of your two main characters.  Irene is a reporter, Frank is a cop and they have to constantly battle with privacy and what they know in their work and at home.  Would you talk about that?

JB:  I wish I could say this was a master plan of mine, but really, their relationship took on a life of its own. I'm ashamed to admit it, but my initial plan was for Frank to be what I call the "file drawer" character.  This is the person the protagonist calls on for inside information -- if the protagonist is not a member of law enforcement. 

Any of us who read mysteries have seen this file drawer character a million times.  The writer pulls this character into the story, the sleuth gets the information needed, and the writer shoves the file drawer character right back out again.  This character is often the ex-lover or ex-spouse of the sleuth, or the guy whose life was saved by the sleuth in an especially heroic way, or the former partner who wishes the beloved rogue-cop sleuth would learn to play by the rules and come back to the force.

But Irene and Frank insisted on getting together.  She wasn't going to let me give this guy the file drawer treatment.  Every time I had them in a room together, the attraction between them was evident.  I resisted this until I realized that conflict is a good thing, and doesn't hurt a story one bit.

Again, not a master plan, but in many ways this conflict between their work lives and home lives allows me to show their respect for each other as well -- they must constantly make efforts to resolve the problems the workplace conflicts create, but they find it a price they are willing to pay to stay together.  Frank and Irene are not Mr. and Mrs. Lollipop, with sun shining out of both ends.  They aren't an unhappy couple, either.  I like watching them work out their differences.

I've heard other writers say that they won't allow their sleuths to get married because marriage is boring.  Mine isn't, so I don't see why my characters' should be.  Honestly, I find the lives of some permanently single sleuths terribly boring.  Either the reader wonders why any character without a death wish would date them, or (worse, really) the reader ends up wondering why someone who is supposedly so smart is such a damned loser socially.  The "misunderstood genius with love just out of reach" bit can get tiresome, too.   I think there's room for both the married and the single sleuth in crime fiction, and how believable either is in a matter of the skill of the writer, of course.

AS:  I'm guessing you've met some fascinating people as you research your series.  I think everyone was fascinated by the information about cadaver dogs in Bones. How do you find people to talk with?

JB:  I've met wonderful, generous people, who constantly give of themselves not just to writers, but to the communities in which they work.  They inspire me. 

I meet experts by doing my homework, by learning all I can before I approach anyone who is busy with the job.  This almost always starts in libraries — I'm lucky to live near two great public library systems and several major universities with excellent libraries.  Librarians are my first set of experts.  Then I talk to teachers and professors.  I let people know what kind of experts I need to talk to, and almost always, someone knows someone who knows someone.

AS:  Talk about the award experience, would you?  I wrote (in a review of 18) about the amazing year of 1993, when you along with writers like Nevada Barr, Abigail Padgett and Laurie King were all "best first" novelists.  And less than ten years later, you've got a "best novel" Edgar.  How did that feel?

JB:  Like an out-of-body experience, in some ways.  I felt more honored than I can say.  And frankly, astounded.  The other books on the short list that year were wonderful — I didn't expect to be the one who went home with it.  I had been practicing my graceful loser smile when they called my name.  There were some moments after that that will live in my memory forever.  That book — Bones — has a rather wild history, so that made it all a little more sweet.  I was also glad to bring that Edgar to Simon and Schuster, because the house has been so good to me.

At the same time, one realizes that all awards in the arts are subjective.  Also, you get up the next morning and turn on the computer and realize that the job is the same — the blank page is just as blank.  No award tells the next story for you.

And you're right — my "freshman class" was a great one.  Sharan Newman was another constant nominee of that time.

AS:  You recently saw publication of 18, a short story collection.  Your short stories show an amazing range of style, from stories I think you've described as homages to Georgette Heyer to ghost stories to satisfying revenge fantasies. Is short story writing a "break" from novel writing for you?

JB:  In many ways, yes.  The stories allow me to stretch and write in ways that wouldn't work in the Irene Kelly series.  But they are their own compulsion as well.  I absolutely love the form.  It carries its own challenges, quite separate from those of the novel.  I hope more collections of stories by other authors are published and that readers and writers rediscover the short story.  If you look at the history of this genre, you'll see that much of its evolution grew out of short stories.  One wonders if there ever would have been, for example, the hard-boiled school if there had been no Black Mask.  Poe's famous first detective tale was a long short story, hardly even of novella length.  How much of Sherlock Holmes would we have read without The Strand?  I could cite example after example.

I should mention that 18, which was originally published in a small print-run by ASAP, will be out in paperback from Pocket Books in January, 2004.  It's available as an e-book from Pocket Books now.  I was gratified by their excitement about the collection.

Back To Top