In a mystery series, the protagonist is key to a reader’s enjoyment. The proper selection of protagonist can have critical impacts on a reader’s willingness to accept the investigation. Does it makes sense that this character investigates this crime? Does her expertise seem actually relevant to her solution? And, to an equal extent – does this make our protagonist interesting? A good writer selects a protagonist’s occupation carefully, balancing areas of expertise and topics of interest for a compelling narrative.
In the world of amateur detectives, there are two groups of jobs: flexible, social individuals, often freelancers or business owners; or professionals with pre-existing reasons for investigation. The first camp contains your Miss Marples, your small business owners, your cozy mystery heroes. Their professional independence gives them the flexibility to turn towards mysteries without “giving up” professional success. Sometimes, their knowledge may come in handy – but there are only so many baking-themed murders someone can come across. Often, these protagonists support a specific fantasy: a character whose cleverness and social skills allow them autonomy and passion.
The second group, the professional investigators, tend to be journalists or lawyers or even professors. They have some professional reason for developing strong investigative skills, and simply apply them to the mystery at-hand. (They may even be invited into investigations as consultants, validating their professional expertise.) These protagonists have a different form of social capital – they may not know their community as well, but can access to official documents more easily. And their expertise can come in handy – lawyer protagonists tend to apply legal principles to their mysteries. These protagonists offer a different fantasy: one in which professional skills lead directly to personal validation via mystery-solving.
Can stage magicians have it all?
But what if you could have it both ways – a freelance, independent protagonist with hard-earned, valuable professional skills? Enter the magician as amateur sleuth. Magicians often serve as freelance acts, setting their own schedules and building their acts based on their personal interests. At the same time, they develop specific skills – around illusion, escape, mentalism, and distraction – that help “unlock” impossible solutions. Their understanding of the physical possibilities of crime are extensive and allow authors to dream up stylish crimes not solvable by laypersons. With a magician, you can combine the fantasy of a socially adept, independent business owner with that of an in-demand, skilled professional – at least, that’s the theory.
But does the reality hold up? In my experience, there’s no “perfect protagonist” – there are tradeoffs to each “style” of protagonist in a mystery story. Freelance amateurs have to lean heavily on their social networks for information, and may rely on others to interpret that data. While this creates a cozy community, it can lead to character bloat and, in the worst case, relatively thin mysteries. Professionals, on the other hand, get to solve deeper mysteries and more intricate puzzles. But they may be lonelier, with less personal character development, especially over the course of a series.
Where do magicians-as-investigators fall? We can take a look at a couple of examples of magicians across the mystery spectrum to learn more. Specifically, I took a look at three mysteries featuring magicians: a cozy mystery, a traditional locked-room puzzle, and an epistolary adventure.
The Ambitious Card by John Gaspard
Let’s start with a mystery on the cozy end of the spectrum: The Ambitious Card by John Gaspard. When the story opens, our magician protagonist, Eli Marks, is not in the best of places. He’s gone through a divorce and moved back in with his grandfather above the family magic store. He has a one-sided crush on his landlady and little business of his own. On Hallowe’en, he goes to a psychic show to play the role of Magician and Skeptic. Unfortunately, when the psychic dies – and other community psychics follow – he becomes a prime suspect in the ensuing investigations.
This is classic cozy mystery stuff, and Gaspard leverages many of the tricks of the genre. There’s a magical flavor to the mystery, and magical paraphernalia come in handy – but the magic stays pretty surface-level. What magic is covered is used mostly as analogy – not to “unlock” physical elements of the mystery. (Think “how are victims selected” vs. “how did this escape happen”.) Eli’s know-how doesn’t really contribute to the solution, and he instead relies on his social connections to stay out of jail. It’s an effective cozy, and confirms that magicians fulfill the “independent freelancer” role – but doesn’t add much beyond that.
Death and the Conjuror by Tom Mead
Next on the list is a more traditional mystery, Death and the Conjuror by Tom Mead. This historical approach follows Jospeh Spector, a magician who’s involved in a production at the Pomegranate Theater in London. When a psychiatrist connected to multiple cast members dies in a locked room, the police struggle to understand the logistics. They turn to Spector for help, and he quickly expands the scope of his consulting from mere physical evidence to psychological investigation.
This is much more of a “fair play” mystery, and Mead goes out of his way to ensure that the reader knows when they have the clues to solve the case. Spector sits much more in the archetype of the “professional amateur”. Mead sets up a case that only a magician could solve – involving both physical deception and people-reading skills. Yet like other “professional amateurs”, Spector comes off as quite lonely, with the story focusing on his mental prowess. He may have the charm and people-reading, but Spector’s love of a good reveal creates distance between him and others. Death and the Conjuror is a pure example of the professional amateur trope – but there’s none of the social warmth and charm of the cozy version to balance it.
The Prestige by Christopher Priest
Finally, we’ve got an epistolary mystery-adventure by Christopher Priest, The Prestige. (Yes, the one that inspired an excellent Nolan brothers film.) This version of the book is slightly different, with a framing mystery to set up the central historical mystery. The book narrates the story of rival stage magicians, Alfred Borden and Rupert Angier, who spend their lives trying to one-up the other.
The Prestige bridges multiple genres, but I want to focus on the mystery of the magic trick here. Borden and Angier’s investigations into each other span a lifetime, and they use multiple tricks in their hunt for answers. Their methods include everything from stagecraft to corporate espionage, and this emphasizes both the intensity of their feeling and the depths of their creativity. The epistolary format adds layers – Priest’s writing reminds me of Hernan Diaz in the way that texts play with and add meaning to each other. And because the story spans decades, we see the protagonists’ social connections build and break, as each keeps secrets from all the important people in their lives.
The secrets of magic – and their toll
It’s reasonably clear that stage magicians can fulfill a variety of roles in a mystery novel. They can be social and rooted enough to lead up a cozy, and have enough expertise to lend a unique professional perspective. Not only that – as lead investigators, they have a wide variety of tools at their disposal as part of their stage training. Stage magicians must learn to read audiences, rig mechanical devices, escape impossible situations, and keep calm in the face-off adversity. They’re clever and charismatic, and can pull off a final-scene monologue with panache. They’re almost too smooth as operators – it would seem they can wriggle their way out of anything. How can a writer add any friction to what might seem like a predetermined outcome?
The answer is secrets. Every single one of the magician protagonists I’ve described feel honor-bound to preserve a code of secrecy. This is not just for their own tricks – a good magician never reveals the secret of any magic to a layperson. This is very accurate to real magicians, and the current version of the Magician’s Oath reads as follows:
“As a magician, I promise never to reveal the secret of any illusion to a non-magician, unless that one swears to uphold the Oath in turn. I promise never to perform any illusion for any non-magician without first practicing the effect until I can perform it well enough to maintain the illusion of magic.”
the magician’s oath
This creates both a tight-knit community of magicians and a deep sense of loneliness outside that community. Each of the magical protagonists referenced above struggle with the level of dedication and security required for their art form. They commit to the secret, even if it means a more difficult personal life. Eli Marks won’t reveal magical secrets even under police scrutiny; Joseph Spector seems to live a lonely life but for his servant; and Alfred Border and Rupert Angier must maintain distance even from their families as they pursue their magical mystery. Each of the novels features a sense of isolation from “laypeople” that the magicians must choose how to navigate.
This is compelling, at least in small doses, and I’m surprised there’s not more mystery series featuring magicians. The Mentalist, one of my favorite mystery-of-the-week shows, used this formula to great effect. The main character, a mentalist, could almost select how much to let the other characters in – and the series was as much his character development as his mystery solving. You can imagine the same in novels – tricky, “real” mysteries with both psychological and physical puzzles, untangled by a stage magician who must learn to work in a “repeated game”.
I’ve really enjoyed this deep-dive into mystery via a professional lens, and would be open to more. Any ideas on other professions or protagonists that could serve as good fodder?
Until next time, stay cozy, and stay curious!
