A biographer, a novelist, and a publisher are standing by a lake. That’s not the beginning of a joke—that’s the opening of Wrongful, Lee Upton’s new novel. With literary criticism, novels, poems, and short stories in her wake, Upton now offers a literary whodunit that revolves around the disappearance of a famous writer from a conference celebrating her work. Time and memory, both central concerns of the book, make the mystery more difficult to solve. As one character observes, “after a while, you’ll only remember there was something you forgot.” 

The writer in question is Mira Wallacz, a well-known children’s book author who has revealed that she is also the author of lurid mystery novels written under a pen name. Ten years after she vanishes from a conference given in her honor, a second conference, also held in her honor, becomes an increasingly suspenseful search for an answer to the mystery of her disappearance.

Questions drive this novel from the start. Wallacz’s readers debate her intentions along with the quality of her work. Some wonder if her novels predicted her disappearance, while others think maybe she deserved it. Some attendees wonder if her sudden absence is a ploy to gain readership and popularity, while others suspect that she has succumbed to a fate she might not have been able to avoid, given the fact that her writing touched nerves and stirred animosity: “If she’s murdered […] she did all the prep, stirred a lot of unconscious anger.”  Still others go so far as to take partial credit for her writing. What’s missing from all of this is concern for another human being. More than that, every character discussing her disappearance might have reason for its cause. This dark psychological complexity lends the novel its energy.

The main character, Geneva Finch, is a true fan of Wallacz’s work. She becomes obsessed with her disappearance, hoping to solve it, no matter that ten years have passed. Geneva has a day job with an agency that books gigs for impersonators of famous acts from the past, and while she admits that they sometimes border on pathetic, what they do is, in fact “an art but not everyone wanted to be entertained by nostalgia.” This subtle moment adds thematic heft by underscoring the novel’s concern with past success and its present effects while also mixing sadness with humor. Perhaps the sadness creates the humor. Geneva remembers going out with a George Harrison impersonator from a Beatles tribute band: “Whenever there was a mirror behind in her in a restaurant, he was looking over her shoulder. Like he was staring at a mean ghost.” She goes on to acknowledge that the aging tribute band “might do better” by “regrouping as The Rolling Stones.” 

Upton does a wonderful job of creating intrigue as Finch and a former priest, now poet, Thom Crystl attempt to unravel the complex knot of Wallacz’s disappearance. As they interview conference attendees, Wallacz’s story becomes more complex and, in some ways, more convoluted. It certainly becomes darker, as fresh theories pile up alongside stranger, newer characters who trickle in from offstage. 

In an interview with  writer Rob Mclennan, Upton says this novel “is not only about the temptations toward bad behavior that writers and all of us face; it’s also about readers and reading—the intimate romance of reading.” To take this a step further, there are moments in which the characters in this book discuss the missing writer and her work as if sipping wine and dishing at a suburban book club—only with more venom because beneath the surface of much of their concern for the writer is professional jealousy. 

Upton’s gift for smart and funny lines lighten the novel’s darkness. When Finch attends a poetry reading, she quips that it is “like being scolded by someone with hiccups” and goes on to describe the poet: “His suit was too large for him, the shoulders drooping, and his striped blue tie insisted on hanging at a diagonal. He looked like an inexperienced assistant to an undertaker.” Upton’s wit includes literary nods as well. For example, one character describes Mira’s disappearance from the conference as “Emily Dickinson-ing it all. Holing away.” These sharp lines release the pressure from a book that could very easily bloat with tension.

As mysteries go, Upton has tapped a few cracks and added a few bends in a time-tested mould, which makes for a solid, surprising, and entertaining read. On the surface, this is a playful novel, but its heft comes from questions about art, reading, writing, and the darker side of human nature. 

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Lee Upton’s poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, Poetry, and in many other journals as well as three editions of Best American Poetry. She is the author of books of poetry, fiction, and literary criticism.

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John Baum lives, writes, and teaches in Atlanta. His work has appeared in The Carolina Quarterly, New World Writing, The Massachusetts Review, and elsewhere.