If your name is Julia Kristeva you
would need to add the subclause ‘A novel’ to the name of a work of fiction.
Given Kristeva’s cultural and intellectual pedigree, Murder in Byzantium
could be a work of literary analysis, psychoanalytic or feminist theory, or
historical deconstruction. But at heart, Murder in Byzantium offers no
ambiguous space between the signifier and the signified: it is a murder mystery
sect in an exotic location.

The autobiographical Stephanie
Delacour, Parisian detective-cum-reporter, heroine of two previous novels by
Kristeva, is sent to Santa Varvara, a decadent coastal town stalked by a
mysterious serial killer. Santa Varvara shares with the Byzantium of the book’s
title the distinction of  being everywhere and nowhere. Kristeva explains on
the first page: "Santa Varvara…is everywhere…good luck if you are able
to identify the particular Santa Varvara that I am speaking about right now!"
The serial killer (The Purifier) is not an impulsive thug; there is a mind at
work in his killings. Victims are related to the New Pantheon, a religious set
that could be modeled on Opus Dei. Corpses are left with a figure eight (or is
it an infinity symbol?) carved into their flesh. There’s computer hacking (not
the most convincing part of the story), DNA testing (but not enough at the
right time to spoil a more conventional thriller), murder, infidelity, sex and
lies. But that’s not all. Woven into the whodunit plot are historical
anecdotes, speculations on language and memory, self-mocking references to
Kristeva’s own life, and reflections on the post 9/11 world of global politics,
treachery, and intrigue. And if that’s not enough there’s a love story of
sorts, or rather two; one played out in real time by Stephanie and the
thoughtful Inspector Rilsky, the other a virtual romance between a modern
scholar of history and the world’s first female historian, the Byzantine Princess
Anna Comnena.  

One of the central characters of
the novel, Sebastian Chrest-Jones is also one its most problematic. He is an
intriguing character, a Professor of human migration, obsessed with Anna
Comnena, and determined to retrace her life. Chrest-Jones is also, by a curious
accident of birth, the illegitimate and younger uncle of Rilsky. Chrest-Jones
might have been likeable in a geeky sort of way if he hadn’t killed his Chinese
lab assistant and lover Fa Chang after she announces she is pregnant. The cold
manner of her killing, and the disposal of her body doesn’t exactly encourage
us to engage with Chrest-Jones as a character. Nor do we care especially for
the Purifier’s victims; the sect is suitably faceless and obscure so that its
initiates do not seem to be people like us.  

As the main character of the novel,
Stephanie Delacour is able, like Kristeva, to range over historical analysis,
cultural studies and literary theory. Delacour refers to Kristeva on several
occasions, and not always with the respect due to an Important Thinker. The
excursions into theory are tantalizing more than satisfying, but they are not
mere asides designed to give an intellectual flavor to an otherwise run of the
mill murder mystery. There is some real intellectual stimulation here. There
are times when Kristeva becomes rather didactic, listing rather than hinting at
the world events she wants readers to think about. But there are also times
when the novel takes off for long absorbing diversions that are genuinely
thought provoking.   

As the novel lurches from the 11^th
to the 21^st century, the religious extremism of the New Pantheon is
juxtaposed with that of the Crusades; there are references to the new millennium
in both ages, suggesting the persistence of superstition and fundamentalism
across time. There is also the optimistic message that the cultivated intellect
can find a way beyond the tribal barbarism of religious wars and border
disputes. In both periods the ‘other’, as the foreigner, is a figure of fear
and mystery, someone who is both threatening and exciting. Kristeva’s native
Bulgaria features in this book, and identity is a theme in Sebastian’s musings:
"…one is never at peace when one pulls at one’s roots, and only a satisfied
curiosity can occasionally calm the rushing waters of anxiety." However Kristeva
is not so grave that she is above a little humor in getting her message across.
In describing the ‘crazed leaders of the Axis of Evil’ (surely itself an ironic
phrase), Kristeva says "To begin with their were the fundamentalists of Al
Qaeda who sought to one-size Islamasize the entire free world…"

With Fa Chang’s death unexplained,
Chrest-Jones missing (but followed by readers in his trek towards Byzantium),
and with a serial killer still at work there is plenty of suspense. Kriseva
brings it to a skilful conclusion, and although the late arrival of Stephanie
in the climactic scene and her decisive role in it are a little contrived, we
can tell ourselves that this is, after all, a murder mystery. Even literary
theorists are allowed a little action now and again.

Murder in Byzantium is
unlikely to have the sort of crossover appeal that would project it from a
scholarly and critical work to the thinking man’s conspiracy thriller. But
there is a lesson here for those who would write fiction as fact. A credible fictional
plot, even one that stretches credibility, can provide a perfectly solid
platform for exploring the real events of history. There will not be the cheap
satisfaction of creating a spurious conspiracy, but neither will the author be
tainted with the reputation of gullibility, that they might even believe their
own fictions. There are probably too many self references and knowing winks to
fellow theorists and academics (and who knows who else) to extend the
readership of Murder in Byzantium much beyond those who enjoy seeing
what happens when a French theorist meets Ian Rankin. But there is something
entertaining about seeing grand ideas set against the most basic of human
drives: the drive to kill. Perhaps Kristeva is suggesting that theory must have
something to say about such lowly acts if it is to be relevant to higher
questions. Or perhaps she’s just having fun, showing that a life dedicated to
intellectual refinement is still capable of seeking thrills.  

© 2006 Tony O’Brien

Tony
O’Brien is a short story writer and lecturer in mental health nursing at The
University of Auckland, New Zealand:
a.obrien@auckland.ac.nz

Categories: Fiction, Psychoanalysis