Those who follow the blog will know I am a HUGE fan of Janice Hallett – so much so that I import her books from the UK just to read them ahead of schedule. And despite some shenanigans, my Waterstones order of The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels has finally hit my mailbox.

I’ve been so excited to read this one, and Janice Hallett does not disappoint. As usual, she uses the epistolary novel to explore the uncertainties and challenges of the modern justice system. This is her most direct exploration yet – The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels follows a true-crime writer as she digs into a decades-old cold case. But where other true-crime epistolaries focus their “found footage” solely on the protagonist’s story, Hallett uses the medium to explore the true crime detection process itself.

It starts with the framing device. Alperton Angels opens and closes with a challenge to the reader, asking them to assess whether or not to publish the enclosed evidence. Hallett proceeds to use a broader mix of documentation than her counterparts, and focuses her attention on the investigation (not the investigators themselves). And finally, the ending (which I will discuss – but scramble – so as not to spoil anyone!) forces the reader to question their own morals. Ultimately, the novel asks – when is a cold case worth bringing back to life? And who can (and should) assess the potential harm it could cause?

Start from the top

Hallett’s exploration of the true-crime genre starts on the very first page of The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels. The genre has been criticized for digging up old crimes without considering the ramifications. These can range from reopening healed wounds to actually releasing the accused (who may or may not have actually committed a crime). And so Hallett opens the novel with a cover note, asking the reader to choose whether or not to release the contents more broadly.

It’s a simple framing device that transforms the reading experience. Typically, when I’m reading a mystery (and an epistolary in particular), I focus on trying to understand what happened. It’s only later that I sit back and process any themes or insights I gleaned from the experience. For example, while reading The Appeal, I knew there would be some kind of twist involved, so much of my subconscious attention focused there.

But with the addition of the framing device, I found myself keeping an eye out for the ethical layer of the investigation. What could make this collection controversial enough to warrant that type of upfront warning? The question is both a heads-up and an invitation to participate in the story, rather than just observe it. This is the kind of interactive storytelling that’s most common in video games – and just like in video games, making a choice changes the tenor of the experience.

Hunting the hunters

The next point of distinction is Hallett’s choice to focus on the investigation, rather than the lives of the investigators. While this may seem like a foregone conclusion, more recent epistolary novels tend to let the investigators’ lives and personalities seep into the story and influence the crime-solving. Others achieve the same end as Hallett by simply collating documents created at the time of the crime, ostensibly pieced together by a new investigator. But Hallett gives us the transcripts and documents that pertain to an investigation, while avoiding the explicit lives of the investigators.

To clarify what I mean, let’s give some examples of the other approaches. Last year was an excellent one for true crime podcast epistolaries, featuring both a new Anna and Fin story and Acts of Violet. Both share documentary-style evidence of an investigation – and both are truly stories of the investigators. The crime simply serves as instigation for a journey that ends in self-revelation and closure. You’re reading for the investigators, at least as much as the mystery.

On the other end of the spectrum, you have works like Trust, that merely present a collection of documents for interpretation. It’s up to the reader to puzzle out what happened between the different documents – the fun is in playing investigator. And it would be harder to stay quite as immersed with a visible investigator to follow – so that role is often simply excised from the story entirely.

But Hallett chooses to tell the story of the Alperton Angels by sharing documents related to a cold-case investigation. We see emails, chats, and transcripts of an investigative team working years in the future from the crime – which would suggest that we are in the first mode, not the second. Yet the story focuses solely on the investigation – we don’t learn much about our investigators’ personal lives or personal development. Between the framing and the documents, Hallett forces the reader to investigate the investigators – not just the crime.

A complex choice

The following section discusses the ending of The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels with plenty of spoilers. For your reading safety, I’ve encoded it in ROT-13. Reader be warned!

Naq fb, bapr Unyyrg unf cevzrq lbh gb vafcrpg abg whfg gur pevzr ohg gubfr fbyivat vg, fur qebcf zhygvcyr obzof:

• Gur vairfgvtngbef unir snyyra cerl gb snxr rivqrapr, vapyhqvat snxr rivqrapr perngrq gb fvgr rnpu bgure
• Guvf unf pnhfrq bar vairfgvtngbe gb tb orefrex naq gel gb xvyy n zvabe, erfhygvat va obgu bs gurve qrnguf
• Gur bevtvany zheqre vairfgvtngvba npghnyyl freirq nf n pbire-hc sbe n zrffl tbireazrag qeht pnfr
• Gurer jrer gjb Ubyyvrf – bar fnirq gur bgure – naq gurl haqrefgnaqnoyl qba’g jnag gb or sbhaq
• Gur npphfrq zheqrere qvq abg pbzzvg gur zheqre ohg vf n qnatrebhf phyg yrnqre jvgu n gba bs punevfzn

Unyyrgg’f pbafgehpgrq ynlref ba ynlref urer. Jr’er rkcybevat gur haeryvnovyvgl bs nzngrhe vairfgvtngvbaf, gur pbzcyrkvgl bs na htyl gehgu gung pbhyq serr n qnatrebhf zna, naq gur gevpxl rguvpf bs erfhesnpvat urnyrq jbhaqf. Pevgvpnyyl, Unyyrgg ynlf bhg nyy gur ceboyrzf pyrneyl, gura chgf vg onpx ba lbh, gur ernqre gb qrpvqr.

Urer’f jurer nyy gung frghc cnlf bss – Unyyrgg ershfrf gb znxr gur pubvpr sbe lbh. Gurer’f ab “evtug nafjre”, whfg lbhe bja rkcybengvba bs n frevrf bs genqrbssf. Ratntvat jvgu gur raqvat zrnaf ratntvat va lbhe bja zbeny qvfphffvba – ohg vg’f bar lbh’er jryy frghc sbe, tvira gung lbh’ir orra genpxvat gbjneqf vg nyy nybat. (Naq va pnfr lbh unira’g, gurer’f n arng yvggyr fhzznel evtug ng gur raq bs nyy gur vffhrf.)

Vg’f n zrffl frghc, bar gung sbeprf lbh gb npprcg pyrne genqrbssf naq enzvsvpngvbaf sbe nal cbffvoyr “fbyhgvba”. “Whfgvpr” zvtug zrna yrggvat n qnatrebhf zna tb, naq grnevat hc gur yvirf bs gur crnprshy. “Gur orggre tbbq” zvtug vaibyir na hagehgushy zvfpneevntr bs whfgvpr. Gurfr ner uneq ceboyrzf naq nalbar gelvat gb gryy lbh bgurejvfr vf yvxryl birefvzcyvslvat guvatf.

Elevating the epistolary

It’s one thing to cognitively understand the ethical ramifications of the true-crime genre. It’s another to actually grapple with the choice – to feel, even for an instant, responsible for the impact of the decision.

True crime is a notoriously ethically fraught genre. At its worst, you get to a place of mob justice, while completely ignoring the feelings of the principal actors. After all, it’s easy to feel righteously indignant about a hot-button case, especially when you don’t have all the facts.

So Hallett presents a case where we do have all the facts. There’s no ability to hide behind “we don’t know how xx would feel” – we do, in all the relevant cases. Reading The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels reminded me to think about how much System II thinking is required to engage in these kinds of situations in real life – and how tempting it is to revert to System I.

It’s a tall order for any book, let alone an epistolary exploring true crime. The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels is an elevation of the epistolary format. Hallett uses the interactivity of the medium to force a more complex type of reader engagement than before. (And she creates an intriguing puzzle while doing it.) Consider my membership to the Hallett fan club renewed (as though that were ever in question).

Until next time – stay cozy, and stay curious!