If you love mysteries, the word “obsession” will bring to mind your favorite fictional villain, whether that’s Casper Gutman, who dedicates his life to finding the iconic Maltese falcon, Annie Wilkes, the obsessed fan in Stephen King’s Misery, or other charismatic antagonists.
But personal obsessions are also the rocket fuel that motivate amateur sleuths to step into the role of detective, risking everything and—unlike the rest of us—running toward danger. Obsessions don’t just motivate the sleuth to solve whatever crime writers create. They deepen a protagonist’s character, heighten their emotions, and deepen conflicts. No wonder stories with obsessive characters are so riveting.
“In short, we want obsession….”
Maybe we’re drawn to these troubled characters because they let us vicariously feel the extreme emotions we work so hard as adults to control. “…[A]s we go about the business of responsible living, being dutiful friends and lovers and workers and parents, we are depriving ourselves of these feelings almost constantly,” Steve Almond says in Truth is the Arrow, Mercy is the Bow, his fantastic writing craft book. “In short, we want obsession, the utter domination of one’s thoughts and feelings by a persistent desire….” That rings true to me.
What is obsession?
So what exactly is obsession as it applies to crime fiction? The fact is I had no idea. But when a character in my new project insisted on exhibiting that trait, I knew I needed to learn more.
The American Psychological Association’s defines obsession as persistent, unwanted thoughts that are distressing and anxiety-producing, thoughts experienced as foreign to one’s true self. We can see those characteristics in TV series character Adrian Monk, who suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive disorder, Clarice Starling’s recurring nightmares in Silence of the Lambs, Charles Todd’s shellshocked WWI vet Inspector Ian Rutledge, and so many others.
But the APA definition left me more, not less, confused. It doesn’t fit other fictional sleuths I’ve thought of as obsessed with solving crime. Those sleuths don’t experience thoughts as foreign to their true self. Those thoughts don’t even seem unwanted. Did I have it all wrong? What was the difference between an obsessed sleuth and one who was simply super-focused on solving a crime?
Viewed through the model of addiction
Psychologist and writer R.J. Jacobs threw me the lifeline I needed. One way to think about obsession, Jacobs wrote in her post for CrimeReads, “…is to view it through the model of addiction…[I]t fills an empty space…[and] causes life to become unbalanced.”
Addiction. Empty space. Unbalanced. I sat with this less formal, more concrete definition for a while. Then I tried to fit what I was learning into layman’s terms for my own use, because I was getting a tad obsessed with obsession.
I think of obsession in crime fiction now as a compulsion that drives the fictional sleuth to fill an empty space in their life—usually the result of traumatic events—by solving the crime(s) a writer creates. The sleuth can’t leave the crime unsolved, even though the effort harms their health, ruins their personal relationships, and/or damages their professional life.
The sleuth’s insistence on investigating the crime, despite the pain it threatens or causes is the key, in my view. That’s what differentiates the obsessed sleuth from others.
Obsessions That Fill the Crime Fiction Canon
Obsession holds such power in crime fiction because it cuts to the heart of our humanity. Its roots are found in love and loss, our need to matter, and, sometimes, in the toxic pull of revenge. Here are just a few examples of the ways obsessions express themselves in the mysteries I love:
- Protecting those who can’t protect themselves. Jackson Brodie is haunted by a childhood tragedy in Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories. His unresolved grief drives him to solve other people’s cases;
- Solving crimes connected to family. In Karen Odden’s A Trace of Deceit, a young female painter investigates London’s Victorian art world to uncover the truth behind her brother’s murder;
- Seeking higher status, no matter the cost. Anti-hero Tom Ripley in Patricia Highsmith’s classic The Talented Mr. Ripley will do anything to maintain his wealthy lifestyle;
- Rejecting society’s expectations to carve a new identity. In Alyssa Maxwell’s Murder at the Breakers, reporter Emma Cross risks her upper-class status to pursue a profession closed to women during the Victorian era; and,
- Pursuing an obsessive/warped love. Rachel’s fixation on her ex- and on the seemingly perfect couple she glimpses each day in The Girl on the Train drives this propulsive story.
In the end, obsession gives fictional sleuths a wound to the heart, as well as their fire and flaws. Whether it heals or harms them, obsession ensures they can’t look away from the crimes they need to solve—and neither can we.
Do you have favorite villain or sleuth whose obsession drives them? Share!
Loved this. I thought you were going to write about antagonist’s obsession as motives. This is a great way to think about your protagonists.
Thank you!
Thanks, Lane! I’m used to thinking of obsession in terms of the antagonist. I think that’s why I enjoyed flipping the script, so to speak.
Oh, I definitely love writing about obsessed characters. And I almost always have my protagonists be the obsessed ones, not the antagonists. The antagonists are cool and collected and the protagonist is unbalanced and weakened because of their obsessions. That’s way more interesting to me!
Well said! The protagonist’s obsession weakens them yet is also at the core of why- and sometimes how -they solve the story’s crime. So nice and complex!
Mally, you’ve got me thinking. I don’t think of my protagonists as obsessed. Though both have a strong desire to get justice for homicide victims, they are detectives and finding the killer is their job. On the other hand, I have written victims who’s obsession got them killed and killers who’s obsessions caused them to kill.
Thanks for this thought provoking post.
Thanks, Catherine. I agree. I think relatively few fictional sleuths are motivated by obsessions. But I wanted to settle – at least, in my own mind – the difference between an obsessed sleuth and one “merely” focused entirely on solving a crime. That was the spark for this post.
Mally, this was a fascinating look at obsession. I think your use of the word compulsion in terms of our writing a crime novel definitely allows me to understand that idea better.
I also love the examples that you gave and now I have to put on my thinking hat because I think that idea of a compulsion drives many more fictional sleuths than at first glance. For many, the idea of bringing justice in and of itself is enough to create that compulsion.
I look at my Trudy Genova, whose father died when she was a teen in was deemed an accident, but she’s always felt was murder. And so she gets herself involved as an amateur sleuth in cases she has no business really being in because her drive to find justice is strong. Only in Book three, Death in the Orchard, does she finally realize what’s been driving her and goes home to try to solve his murder.
Of course the question then becomes: will Trudy still have this compulsion? I’m still figuring that out!
Hi, Marni, Thanks for commenting. Compulsion helped me think about obsession in a new way, too. And now I have to pick up your Trudy Genova series. Trudy sounds like a fascinating character!
I too have thought of obsession as the hallmark of villains, because that quality narrows their focus to the point that moral considerations become irrelevant. Obsession blinds them to more prudent choices–which I’m now thinking applies equally well to protags!
Hi, Lori, And a protagonist blinded to more prudent choices is in more danger than they know … which is great for your story. Thanks for the comment!
Mally:
Yes! I try to think of every character as being obsessed, or at least dedicated, to achieving their primary goal. What others call obsession, I think of as passion.
Hi, Dawn, Thanks for pointing out that – one way or another – it’s really about our characters’ heightened emotions and bringing the reader along for the ride!
I always think of Sherlock Holmes as obsessive when he is in the heat of a case. In my Genevieve Planche series, she is obsessed with a career for herself as an artist, and that anger over so many obstacles in the 18th century both fuels her and leads her to make mistakes!
There are so many moments when Genevieve could take a path that leads to an easier life, and, instead, she keeps struggling to build a career as an artist. Maybe we should call that a productive obsession.
Enjoyed this deep dive on the topic. I have recognized it in fiction I enjoy (including Professor T, the Skelf Mysteries by Doug Johnstone) but haven’t considered how I could incorporate it into any of my own work–but it definitely adds a layer of intrigue!
Hi, Melissa, I’m so glad you enjoyed the post! I’ve been meaning to read the Skelf mysteries, and now you’ve given me even more of a reason to start the first one.