Footprints — Key Ideas to Explore

Gossip as a Narrative Engine

The opening chapter relies entirely on the chatter of two women in a hotel lobby. Their conversation, full of casual judgments and secondhand knowledge, introduces the Quilters as 'millionaires' whose 'enormous ranch' dominates Quilter County. The women speculate about Judith's widowhood, her brother Neal's bachelor status, and her sister Lucy's literary career. This gossip serves as a narrative shortcut, planting key names and relationships without direct exposition.

Notably, the women's tone is envious and dismissive—'a dollar doesn't mean any more to them than a thin dime does to us.' Strahan uses their voices to establish the family's social position and the community's attitude toward them. The reader, like the women, is an outsider peering in. This technique creates a sense of distance that the later inquest will complicate, as the family's internal dynamics emerge through testimony.

The Inquest: A Stage for Contradictions

The middle excerpt plunges into a coroner's inquest, where Irene, a family member, testifies about the night of the murder. The questioning by Mr. Thopson is aggressive: he presses her on why she didn't knock on her own door, implying her story is incomplete. Irene's answers are measured—'It could have been nothing else'—but the narrator reveals she omitted her quarrel with her husband and her tears. This gap between public testimony and private knowledge is central.

The narrator, who remains unnamed in the excerpt, observes the legal maneuvering with a critical eye. Mr. Ward, the family's lawyer, objects to Thopson's 'baiting,' but the narrator doubts his effectiveness: 'the trouble was, I think, that he did not believe in them himself.' The inquest is not a trial, but it 'came too close to being one to suit me.' Strahan uses this procedural setting to expose how facts are shaped, withheld, and contested.

Last Words and Unanswered Questions

The victim's dying words—'Got away' and 'Red mask'—become a flashpoint in the inquest. Thopson tries to pin down Irene's interpretation, while Mr. Ward argues that the words clearly indicate a masked murderer escaping. The narrator notes that Ward's speech about 'duty' and 'the edge of the grave' is theatrical, but it serves to steer the proceedings. The reader is left to wonder what the words actually mean, especially since the narrator's skepticism suggests the family's version may be sanitized.

Strahan does not resolve this ambiguity in the excerpts. The focus remains on the process of investigation rather than on answers. The 'red mask' detail is introduced but not explained, creating a thread that likely runs through the novel. The inquest scene demonstrates how a single phrase can be manipulated by different parties, each with their own agenda.

Voice and Perspective: The Unreliable Narrator

The narrator of the inquest sections is a family member with a distinct, colloquial voice. He uses phrases like 'sucker play' and 'as useful as a left leg,' and he judges the lawyer's performance with a mixture of cynicism and grudging respect. His perspective is limited: he knows more than the public but not everything, and he admits to changing his mind about Mr. Ward. This first-person narration filters the events through a subjective lens, making the reader question his reliability.

Strahan does not identify the narrator in the excerpts, but his tone suggests a young male relative, possibly a brother or cousin. His commentary on the inquest—'Perhaps it wasn't a trial. But it came too close'—reveals his unease with the proceedings. By grounding the mystery in a specific, fallible voice, Strahan avoids an omniscient viewpoint and keeps the focus on how the family perceives and controls the narrative.

Readers should pay close attention to the gaps between what characters say publicly and what they know privately. The opening gossip, the inquest testimony, and the narrator's asides all layer different versions of events. Strahan's novel is less about discovering a single truth than about watching a family manage a crisis under scrutiny. The excerpts suggest that the 'footprints' of the title may be both literal and figurative—traces left by actions, words, and omissions.

This book’s inquest, with its sardonic family voice, made me think of sitting in my grandmother’s parlor, listening to adults dissect a neighbor’s misfortune in that same wry, unsettled way. The crime at Black Dudley — Themes and Context once gave me that identical feeling—a house full of secrets, told with a knowing, slightly weary shrug. It’s a familiar ache, that polite gossip masking something darker.