Giving the Victim a Face

Addiction, truth, and an unexpected turn in The Māori Murders

My medieval style logo. What do you think about it?

Weird week. Last week.

My Māori Murders took a strange – and entirely unplanned – turn when two of my main characters found themselves in a scene discussing an upcoming exhibition by one of them. Without giving too much away, I can tell you that Tiina (whom you’ll know from Handful and The Triumvirate Murders) appears in this book, making choices that will have consequences for everyone in my Pekka Wall world.

One of the things Tiina is working on in this book is a photo exhibition. She has been documenting the life and death of a young, beautiful woman whose meth addiction has destroyed her health, her looks and her soul, ending in an overdose and death.

Originally, this was meant to be just a subplot – a narrative device to lead Tiina towards understanding the mechanics of the drug business. But this young addict gradually became something else entirely: a central carrier of the book’s deeper themes.

How did that happen?

I met one of my friends who works with drug addicts and has been an addict himself. I wanted to pick his brain so I could portray this young woman – essentially still a teenage girl – in a respectful and truthful way.

We had a long conversation at the local mall, in one of my favourite coffee shops. My friend explained how meth destroys a life with terrifying speed. The drug eats away at your soul, your body and your surroundings, until everything becomes a relentless hunt for the next hit, at any cost. Nothing is out of bounds when money for the drug is needed.

Everything gets sacrificed, and everything becomes transactional: you give me money, I will let you fuck me; you give me money, I will commit a crime for you; and so on.

What struck me most was one sentence my friend said:
‘They are so alone with their addiction that they become the best liars – but at the same time, they yearn for a friend who could get them.’

And then it dawned on me. I cannot write about drug rings without giving a face to the victims of addiction and exploitation.

Did it change the overall flow of the story?

No. If anything, it made the story more tangible. I realised that my motto – In fābula, vēritās inest – demands that the truth of addiction be embedded in the narrative. I didn’t need to restructure the book or add new scenes; instead, I could weave Tiina’s photographs of this young woman into existing dialogue and action, especially in the scenes where Tiina is working on her photography.

Another thing this process taught me – or perhaps reminded me of – is the importance of observation and listening to real people. No amount of background research can replace these quiet conversations over a cuppa, when the skeletons of a story finally get flesh on their bones and are dressed for the stage.

Music that keeps me writing

The Birthmark Murders revolved around the music of Cabaret and contemporary tracks from 1990. Handful nodded towards Sinéad O’Connor and Katri-Helena. The Triumvirate Murders was steeped in Chopin and Bach. And now, in some strange way, I find myself drawn to Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2 – especially in the hands of the young Alexander Malofeev.

The first notes of that concerto were playing in my head when I wrote the opening scene, and I’ve listened to it almost every day since. I’m not a musician and know nothing about music theory, so I can’t analyse why this concerto has become the spine of this book. I only know that I keep returning to it, and that the scenes, characters and atmospheres seem to echo its emotional landscape.

Watching Malofeev’s face in that performance sums up everything I’m trying to capture – and binds the meanings of the story to the music.

Rachmaninov composed the concerto after a near career-ending breakdown. It became a comeback – a triumph, and a timeless masterpiece. Those same themes now underpin the thematic flow of The Mārae Murders.

What’s your musical take on my books? Or, more broadly, how does music shape your own life – if it does at all?

Cheers,
Janus

And rember to check these authors, too:

Michael Cardwell: Frontier Vengeance. Danny Coogan is now working as a US Marshal, and he is within weeks of becoming a father for the first time. During a takedown of a fugitive, he makes a grisly discovery: a body, and it's the son of someone he knows and works with. Thus begins an off-the-books investigation that leads him to millions of dollars in stolen money, an entire collection of dead bodies, and an ultimate showdown with an adversary determined not to be taken alive.

Morgan Klein has written short stories available as an eBook. His collection is called Blurred Lens, and its stories cast a glimmer of rainbow light into the darkness. Get his short stories for free here.

Mike Player, whose novel Utopia is set in 1856. ‘In 1856, a gay gunslinger, a lesbian doctor disguised as a man, a boy pulp-fiction writer, and a wannabe assassin become mismatched colleagues in search of the fabled town of Utopia.’ If that little blurb doesn’t get you interested, I don’t know what will. Go and have a look on Amazon.

Get my books from below:

👉 Amazon
👉 Apple Books
👉 Books.by – for those who like things a bit more indie

And local Schrödinger’s Books In Petone is selling my book both on-site and by mail across New Zealand.

and of course, Kobo.