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gemslittlelibrary · 2 years

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You Really Don't Need to Read "The Ink Black Heart"

Hi Joanne,

You’ll never read this, of course. I wouldn’t send this to you, nor would I send any author a review of their work. Since you seem to have a habit of looking for yourself online (including in spaces for the disabled, perhaps?) I suppose there’s a small chance, so I’ll warn you now: This is not a positive review. Nor is it an attack, but, since it contains criticism, I’m sure you’d take it that way regardless.

Happy reading.

Where to begin? The Ink Black Heart by “Robert Gailbraith” (the irony of the author using a pseudonym for this book, which despises those who use different names online, is not lost on me) is a ridiculously long brick that is less of a mystery and more of the author’s attempts to paint herself as a victim.

In the Kindle edition, at a whopping 1462 pages long, the main mystery isn’t actually introduced until page 50. The previous pages consist of the drawn out “will they/won’t they” romance between the two detectives, something that has been an annoying side story for the past four books as well, and is continued throughout this novel in torturous passages of two people assuming the other’s thoughts, never being honest, and pretending everything is absolutely fine.

If that doesn’t sound like a decent subplot, there’s no need to worry. Besides the case for which the book is named, readers are given no less than four other cases taken on by the agency, with two more romantic side plots. After all, why be succinct when you can devote hundreds of pages to the prolonged child abuse of two young girls–something that the detective is more than happy to let slide until it’s been filmed– instead?

I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself. If you haven’t read any other books in the Cormoran Strike series, you’re probably quite confused, so let me give you a quick overview: Our titular character, Cormoran Strike, is a disabled war veteran, illegitimate son of a rock star, and irresistible to women (something I will be discussing later on). He initially hires Robin Ellacot as his secretary, but after learning how useful she can be, he eventually promotes her to fellow detective, and later to business partner. Robin, initially engaged to be married, quickly finds her feelings for Strike and the job to be an issue between herself and her partner, culminating in a short-lived marriage that quickly ends in divorce.

So, now that our heroes have been introduced, we can move onto this installment of the series. To sum up all of the superfluous content: Stark tries to kiss Robin, she backs away, he starts messing with another woman to make her jealous (a common theme), and they both stew with their sexual tension. The agency, which has grown from the two of them, is booked solid with cases (a son stealing expensive things from his father, a mother whose daughter is being groomed by her ex, cheating husbands, and so on), so when the “scruffy” Edie Ledwell arrives at the office, Robin is forced to turn her away, though not before listening to her story. Edie is the co-creator of a popular web cartoon, and has been on the receiving end of vicious online harassment. When she’s found stabbed to death in the graveyard where the story is set, along with her injured co-creator, Robin and Strike are on the case.

As with previous Strike books, Rowling’s main tactic of creating a tricky mystery is to simply throw so many characters and side plots at the reader until they’re completely befuddled, unable to have a coherent thought and therefore unable to solve the case. This book is perhaps the best example of that, with suspects using various internet handles along with their real names. If there were fewer suspects, connecting the handles to their legal names might have been fun to figure out, but with throwaway accounts, a huge fandom, the cast of the show, and more peripheral figures to suspect, it’s a bit much. Pro tip: If one (or several) of your big reveals are characters that haven’t been introduced to the reader, you’ve failed at writing a good mystery.

It quickly becomes apparent that this entire mass of bound pages is simply a self-insert fanfic. The implication being that, if/when she leaves the internet for good (I highly doubt she believes someone would murder her), everyone will regret their treatment of one Joanne K. Rowling.

Edie’s cartoon, which is also titled The Ink Black Heart, has apparently been the target of criticism by some fans, with accusations of racism, transphobia, and ableism. Infuriatingly, readers don’t learn enough about the cartoon to see what exactly is being criticized in the book’s universe. There are a few throwaway examples, mostly accusations by a blog called The Pen of Justice, but since its author is simply pretending to be progressive while simultaneously using the platform to find underage girls to groom, it’s safe to say that these accusations are more or less meant to be baseless. This is further confirmed when it’s revealed that Edie was the target of a Neo-Nazi group that specialized in spreading misinformation about prominent left-leaning women with the hopes of driving them to suicide. Interestingly, Rowling shows her hand here, with one of the targets being called Maya Sattherwaite. Her crime? Misgendering a trans woman in a private text message. Readers familiar with Rowling’s antics on Twitter may recognize that this is a poorly-disguised nod to Maya Forstater, someone who, according to CNN, “brought a claim against the Center for Global Development and CGD Europe, an international development think tank, after she lost her job as a researcher following comments on Twitter criticizing UK government plans to allow people to self-identify their gender.” Rowling subsequently defended her on Twitter. I can’t prove that the character is in any way connected to Forstater, but it’s an interesting point nonetheless.

So, to recap: Neo-Nazi trolls manipulate vulnerable fans into hating the creator of something they loved. A different person, apparently indifferent to this, ends up murdering Edie because he’s an incel. Another huge coincidence, but, ok, sure, there are lots of hateful people in the world. Besides the main plot, which genuinely seems like a very, very long-winded attempt to convince readers that any criticism directed towards Rowling herself is simply hate and trolling, due to her position as a prominent female left-leaning writer, there are other things, hidden throughout this monstrosity, that are extremely hurtful.

When the book was released, a few particular quotes started circulating the internet. The one I saw the most was a description of a suspect’s tumblr blog, through the eyes of Strike, who, in case you’ve forgotten, is a disabled man. The passage reads: “At the top was a picture of many silver spoons and the legend: Disabled artist - fashion, music, and bird lover - life right now is mostly about being sick. CF- fibromyalgia - POTs - allodynia - I need more spoons…”(Rowling, p. 419). For those unaware, the Spoon Theory is an analogy for fluctuating energy levels, commonly used in disabled online communities. The abbreviated conditions are Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (also known as myalgic encephalitis/ME) and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. All four conditions are invisible illnesses, meaning that they may not be visible upon first glance. A few more examples of posts are given, all of which are dramatic or about disabilities, such as how life is for more than working, or that using a mobility aid if needed is fine, even if that’s despite medical advice. Stark, our disabled hero, finds her blog to be “unattractively mawkish,” (Rowling, p.421) detests using a cane, and usually puts himself into far more risky situations to avoid being perceived as disabled. Although this isn’t totally portrayed as the correct thing to do, as his stump (as he calls it) eventually starts exhibiting symptoms of nerve damage due to lack of care, but it isn’t entirely shown as a negative thing either. This trait of his is constant throughout the series, usually including at least one moment where his “weakness” is exposed to the public in a humiliating fashion. I understand preferring to complete tasks unaided to avoid pity. I struggle with it, and I’m sure other disabled people do too. As the novel progresses, though, it’s clear Stark and Robin (and, I presume, the author), rank disabilities differently, as well as the people who have them.

Several of our murder suspects are disabled characters. Now, I don’t mind a disabled villain, as long as the disability isn’t the cause and sole reason for the villainous behavior. And, to be fair, the murderer does not have a disability (he does, however, have a serious skin condition requiring regular hospital visit, which I’ll return to later). The issue here isn’t that readers are meant to suspect disabled characters along with their able-bodied counterparts. The issue comes from the fact that nearly every disabled character is written to be extremely manipulative and unlikeable.

The disabled characters can be divided neatly into two groups, which I’ll be referring to as “good” and “bad.” The “good” disabled characters are Strike himself, Josh Blay, and Dr. Vikas Bhardwaj. Strike, as I mentioned, lost part of his leg saving the life of a fellow military man abroad. Josh Blay is the co-creator of The Ink Black Heart and is attacked alongside Edie. Although he survives, he’s paralyzed on one side of his body and left without feeling in the other. Interestingly, Strike dislikes Josh (a stoner artist) until meeting the now disabled man, with whom he forms a camaraderie of the unfairly attacked. Dr. Bhardwaj, though not injured, had speech and motor issues due to cerebral palsy. He’s also a child genius and a doctor of astrophysics. In his obituary, his family has “spoken of their immense and lasting pride in the genius who’d never let his disability stand in his way,”(Rowling, p.1232). “Never letting his disability stand in his way” is a classic line in inspiration porn. Inspiration porn is when the story of a disabled person who is painted as a hero for simply existing, or a success story like Dr. Bhardwaj’s or Strike’s. The model disabled person, it is implied, should not complain or admit that their disability has prevented them from doing anything.

This point is glaringly obvious when we look at the “bad” disabled characters. The owner of the tumblr referenced above is Kea Niven, a very pretty young disabled woman. When Strike goes to interview her, her mother cancels, saying Kea’s too ill to see anyone, and that she’s bedbound. Already having decided that Kea is a liar, he goes anyway, and readers are treated to scenes of Kea screaming at her mother and running from the house, before agreeing to meet with Strike, where she uses various symptoms as excuses to end the interview. It’s later revealed that she uses these symptoms to manipulate another “bad” disabled man, as well as weaponizing self-harm against her ex, who happens to be Josh. Knowing that her particular diagnoses often affect young women who are usually disbelieved, this was particularly difficult for me to read. I expected Strike to force her to run laps or something, gloating as he exposed a “faker” (a hobby that runs rampant on the internet).

The next “bad” disabled character is the aforementioned man, Inigo Upcott. Also diagnosed with ME, he uses a wheelchair and cane at different times. He’s also portrayed as an abusive, domineering, self-pitying tyrant. Our first introduction to him is at his home, where his daughter is home sick from school. As he condescends and terrifies his wife in front of the detectives, the girl comes into the room. This is his reaction: “‘Get BACK!’ roared Inigo with sudden ferocity, as though Flavia were a wild animal. ‘You are INFECTIOUS!’

Flavia stopped dead. ‘If you wish me to be bedbound for the next six weeks, by all means keep allowing her into

this fucking room!’”(Rowling, p.493).

In further conversations, we learn that Inigo had a promising career prior to his diagnosis, about which he is still, understandably bitter. At one point, while listening to his explanation, Strike contemplates how so many other people deserve pity more than this man. So, once again, the message is clear: You can be disabled, but it must be real and valid to me, a stranger. You mustn't complain or show signs of bitterness unless alone, and even then, do you really need that medication/mobility/accommodation? Why can’t you overcome it?

Even ignoring all of that, and the derision around the word “ableism”, our “heroes” are, quite frankly, rude, insufferable people. Stark has romantic relationships with women he quickly becomes annoyed with when they dare to ask for affection or that he, perhaps, not have so many outings with his beautiful blonde partner. He constantly thinks about the chest size of each woman we meet, and also decides if they’re pretty or ugly. It could be argued that Strike is simply an asshole, but our heroine describes people in the same way. Most women are described as plain, or drab, or overweight. If they’ve had plastic surgery, it will constantly be mentioned as a point to laugh about. Robin’s own “trim” figure, ample chest, and lack of plastic surgery is mentioned frequently as well. Both detectives constantly have members of the opposite sex waiting in line to, as the author would say, “bed” them. Robin, of course, has only been with one man, and Strike is actually quite aggravated when he hears her on a date with a suspect. She leads the suspect on, flirting and making out with him (which…I’m not sure is legal and is certainly morally questionable, but sure), recording all the while. Stark and Robin are equally possessive of one another, possibly codependent, with barely suppressed anger over the other being simply looked at by a potential partner.

There are other, subtler bits of hatred that stood out to me. The fans of this cartoon are consistently characterized as losers with no social life or proper job, having nothing better to do than attack innocents online. The female fans in particular have all been so pathetically alone that they’re easily manipulated by their male counterparts, doing their bidding, believing them, giving them alibis, and so on. Most receive no sympathy from the detectives, barring a minor and a young adult who had been groomed. Everyone else with even the slightest interest in the cartoon and its fandom, including the ex-girlfriend of a contractor at the agency, are chronically online dullards.

The grooming victim, though appropriately seen as innocent in the whole mess, is possibly dyslexic and anorexic. The former can be assumed from her online interactions(this book contains many, many chat room threads and tweets, which is a logistical nightmare), and descriptions of her appearance. Well, the detectives assume she’s anorexic, while describing her as child-like with the face of Death or a skull. The physical description is repeated despite Robin forming a relationship with the woman, so it isn’t a one-off identifying characteristic (not that that would excuse the language used).

One of the bits that disturbed me the most was a throwaway line by a minor character. Ilsa, Stark’s childhood friend and new friend of Robin’s, has met Robin for dinner. She’s been stressed about her latest case as a defense lawyer, which is so unbelievable I’ll simply cite the whole thing: “...she told Robin about the teenage girl who’d stood trial for helping plan a terrorist attack. ‘...so the other four were found guilty,’...’and so they bloody well should have been, but I thought, she’s finished. I could hear her mother sobbing behind us. But thank Christ the judge believed the psychologist. Fifteen, profoundly autistic and convinced she’d found real friends online…of course she fell for it. And she was the one they were going to strap the blood explosives to,’”(Rowling, p.400). This is literally never mentioned again. Another character mentions going to babysit his autistic nieces. There are mentions of characters helping with an art class for “special needs kids'', but besides one of the adults being a pedophile, working with the class is seen as a wonderful, selfless thing to do. These are both used as points towards a character’s morality, but Ilsa, who isn’t a suspect and is barely in the story at all, has no reason to chat about such a case. If Rowling wanted to simply use this chat as a way to indicate Ilsa’s stress, there are plenty of more common legal issues to use. The anecdote could be an attempt at foreshadowing, but the Neo-Nazi group isn’t mentioned in connection with that incident, and doesn’t use a specifc autistic character to further their goals.

My personal theory is that JK Rowling sees herself as a protector of autistic girls and women. In her weird transphobic blog post, she states that she believes a lot of trans men are simply autistic girls who have been manipulated by the world to think they’re boys. Oddly specific, but based on the overall petty tone of the novel, it wouldn’t surprise me. (There’s also a throwaway line where, when confirming a suspect’s gender, Robin states that they are female, because they’re on their period, and Strike answers that that definitely confirms it. Rowling famously tweeted a snarky response to an article about bring period products to everyone, which had used the phrase “people with periods”, and Rowling, afraid her precious womanhood was being erased, essentially mocked the phrase, saying she was SURE there was another, better word for those people.

Anyway, the novel ends with the teenaged incel, who purposely exacerbated his skin condition for pity, going on a hate-fueled rampage with a machete, murdering his father, Inigo, wounding his mother, stabbing Strike and attempting to sexually assault Robin as he spouted incel rhetoric. The rampage, though triggered by Robin connecting him to his various online aliases, also connected to his long-buried hatred of his disabled father.

As usual, the climax of the book occured ridiculously quickly, shoved into a few chapters of this over 1000-page book. Rowling seems to enjoy planting so many false leads that by the time it’s time to confront the real criminal, it reads like a hastily penned afterthought. After the rushed fight scene, we get an epilogue of the two lovebirds angrily pining for one another, as Robin has accepted a date, and the book ends with Strike cursing himself for not revealing his true feelings. Their romantic troubles will, I’m sure, be solved in another three, or perhaps four novels.

I’d like to note here that I did go into this book with an open mind. I’d enjoyed some of the previous Strike novels, and Rowling still has a fantastic talent for describing scenery. The various fancy places Strike and Robin visit on their adventures are the best part of the series, hands down. I also wanted to read the whole thing myself before commenting on the ableism. To me, a few screenshots could have easily been taken out of context, and I suppose I had some small hope that the book was not quite as hideous as it seemed. Unfortunately for me, it was worse.

Don’t read this book. Don’t pay $15 for an ebook, or even more for a physical copy. It’s not worth a hate read, or a curiosity read, or anything of the sort. It feels clichéd to say “I read this so you don’t have to”, but seriously, I read it in the hopes of diminishing the harm it would cause. I hate to say how much it affected me, because it just makes me fit the SJW spoonie snowflake persona that Rowling created to dismiss criticism and soothe her ego, but I’m certainly not one of her model crips. So, Joanne, if you see this, please know that your book caused me to feel terrible, and that I was shaking terribly today as I read it, due to some part of my conditions you don’t take seriously.

Don’t worry, though. I know you don’t care.

#spoonie #The Ink Black Heart #Robert Galbraith #tw ableism #tw fatphobia #tw paedophilia #book review #booklr #bookworm #spoilers

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