The Politically Correct Private Investigator: Not Much Different From The Old Guys

People who read detective/Private Investigator (P.I) fiction do so because they are attracted to certain elements that they can expect and enjoy from this genre. Indeed, it seems de rigueur that the hero should have certain character traits and face certain problems in certain ways. In a chapter titled “The Private Investigator,” in fact, we read that a typical investigator will be, male, hard-boiled, an expert on the city, a loner, streetwise, tough, physical, and a mixture of an idealist and cynic. In, however, “Lost Polars,” we see that the author wants to add the novelty of a female character, while maintaining the integrity of the detective genre. Therefore, in Shelley Singer’s depiction of Barrett Lake, the salient and correlative aspects of the archetypal qualities of a private investigator are not tainted with progressive, feminist values. Even though Lake is a woman, she still typifies the noir, solitary hero who stands up for justice even in the face of circumstances that would break the morale of anyone else. This is Singer’s big trick on the audience.
We see, for instance, Lake’s intuition, coupled with her quick-thinking, which assured her successful investigation into Judy Garbman’s murder. She’s a woman who does this, but there’s nothing really “feminine” about this process. Her willingness to calm and collectively rationalize and reason, while the rest of her reunion classmates underwent group hysteria and shock, gave her the poise and volition required to think clearly and make assertions and accusations that turned out to be true. One could argue that these are traditionally male character traits in this genre. It is also a marked characteristic of Barret Lake and the archetypal private investigator that they would disregard the condescension of one’s peers and competition (police force) in order to focus on the bigger picture of solving the crime at hand. This is also gender neutral. Private investigators are typically loners and recluses. It’s difficult for them to form lasting relationships with others, as they are engaged in the morally righteous task of righting wrongs and doling out justice to those who deserve it. The private investigator is akin to the classic lone cowboy archetype that is so prevalent in western fiction. Like the archetype, Singer gives Lake these qualities. “She moved quickly into the safe circle of friends. Semi-safe. Always that raw edge of separation, a sense of difference, even if she was the only one who felt it” (Singer, 201). Lake showcases how no matter how close she is to her friends, there is always a substantial degree of separation. It is characteristic of the archetypal private investigator to feel alone, even while mingling with others. The private investigator is always thinking on his/her feet, sizing up people and piercing their superficialities in order to see the oftentimes brute, greedy and immoral appetites that drive them. It’s significant, therefore, that “The contemporary female private eye is both intelligent and in excellent physical condition. She has relationships with men, but on her own terms, and never really trusts them. The job comes first. She has trustworthy but eccentric friends” (The Private Investigator, 207). This is a necessary tweak to fit the woman protagonist into the male-dominated genre.
Furthermore, Barrett’s intelligence and calmness in the face of emotional uprising is what defines her intellectual aptitude to solve crimes and mete out justice. One can see, through Lake’s sardonic commentary on police stereotypes, that she sees through the role-playing that men in positions of authority undertake. But this is not a feminist perspective on a male-dominated police force, it is, in fact, a type of wise-cracking we have to expect from this type of hero. She can liaise with the policemen, but never trusts them fully, like the archetype, which is why she preemptively spoke to the blonde-haired detective after making her initial phone call to Tito. She wanted to take charge of the conversation so the blonde-haired detective would not think of her as a suspect. Lake’s friends, Franny and the Plymouth Avenue Expatriates, are obviously intrigued in her work, and are simultaneously intrigued and put off by her coy aversion to talking too in depth about her career. She is typically laconic; again, we see a characteristic of the P.I. hero drafted onto a female character. Barrett is also able to investigate Judy Garbman’s death so efficiently, because she does not allow herself to be physically, mentally and emotionally shell-shocked like everybody else. Interestingly, in such novels, women are sometimes portrayed as hysterical victims, or emotionally needy clients. Singer is definitely defying a reader expectation here without destroying the need for the character to be tough. After the initial scream that signaled Judy’s death was heard, “Barrett didn’t stop to think or say a word to her friends. Like a racehorse or a heavyweight at the bell, she moved” (Singer, 203). This intuitive and visceral ability to drop everything at hand and take control of a situation, is what made Barrett so quick-witted and able-bodied enough to investigate the murder. Also, her willingness to contravene police authority, by interviewing possible suspects in a clandestine manner through whispering out of the side of her mouth, showed a brazenness that most detective story readers would not expect from a woman. To most, when a policeman says something in a firm voice, they immediately submit. It was more important to Barrett to logically and incrementally talk to as many witnesses as possible in order to ascertain as much information as possible while the crime scene was still fresh. Her steely nerves are expected from a P.I. Singer, however, does something very clever to not only introduce a female character but to get the reader to side with her. He makes the less likeable characters mock her a litle, so that we tend to take her side, because we see her competence and feel a critic would be wrong to doubt her ability just because she is a woman. Upon hearing about her profession, one of the cops said, “Cut to the chase, Nancy Drew” (Singer, 212), signifying his jocular condescension in regards to her profession. Nevertheless, her classmates are intrigued. Her classmates furtively tried to learn about her business by asking her more about her travels in Cleveland and San Francisco, what types of criminals she has apprehended and what her leads are on Judy Garbman’s murder. She knows, perhaps that the people closest to you, oftentimes, are the people who can take sensitive information you tell them and corrupt it in some form or fashion. Barrett speaks to them cryptically, in order to satiate and pacify them. Naturally, when Barrett’s logic has solved the crime and gotten an arrest made, the police and her classmates offer her adulation.
Therefore, Singer also congratulates the reader for supporting the female P.I. when others might have doubted her. We, of course, live in a politically correct society. There is no room for sexism in any art form. The P.I. genre, however, is a male-centered, male dominated genre that openly celebrates masculinity. Therefore, we see an interesting strategy in this story. Our society, which values equality between the sexes, exerts pressure on all art forms to conform to this ideal. In this story we see how a skilled writer responds to this pressure. She has to add a female character. These days women do everything that men do. So her challenge was to add a female character without destroying the genre. Too many feminine character traits would have destroyed the joy of this story to the traditional reader. Therefore Singer’s trick is to get the audience to accept a female character who exhibits the traditional characteristics of a P.I. hero, without her losing her femininity and without making her too much of a feminist. Barrett Lake is, therefore, a manifestation of the archetypal private investigator in that she is a noir sleuth who is intelligent, intuitive, a loner and a pursuer of justice. The big question, therefore, becomes, as our society further evolves, will we ever have a truly feminist detective or P.I.? Is the P.I. audience so wedded to the traditional hard-boiled character, that there is no room for a Nancy Pelosi-like detective, who is feminine, and smart and creative and who solves problems more with charm and grace than physical force and toughness?