“Harm Done” by Ruth Rendell

“Harm Done” is the fourth – and so far the last – book from the Chief Inspector Wexford series that I have read. It’s also the longest, and no murder happens in it until page 350, which is the last quarter of the thick volume. But I never thought of putting the book aside.

It starts with two enigmatic disappearances of two young girls on two consecutive Saturday nights followed by their equally enigmatic return home in a few days after abduction. Both girls are extremely reluctant to tell the true story of their adventures – they prefer elaborate lies. Wexford, who is never satisfied with the results until the case is really and truly closed, undertakes to dig to the bottom of the affair.

Meanwhile, his daughter Sylvia, with whom he still tries in vain to build a good relationship, starts working to help women who have become victims of domestic violence.

Once again, Ruth Rendell has written a detective story that is much more a book about social problems than a detective story as such. In “Simisola” she talked about racism, secret slavery and unemployment; in “Harm Done” she addresses domestic violence, paedophilia, early pregnancy and the danger of citizens’ riots (which she portrays courageously as a drawback of the “freedom of speech” – freedom not restrained by any feeling of responsibility from the media people themselves).

She also touches on the problem of having insane people on the loose and the dangers they may present.

The book is written in 1999, and the events take place in the same year, or, perhaps, in 1998, but not much earlier. Wexford uses Word for Windows, mentions Taliban, and elsewhere in the book the Princess Diana Memorial Clinic is talked about. As we all know, Princess Diana died in 1997, and it takes some time to build a clinic. So it has to be 1999, but I can’t help noticing that Ruth Rendell has started to “freeze” the ages of Wexford himself and his family. His grandsons haven’t grown at all since “Simisola” (1994). In “Shake Hands Forever” (1975) Sylvia is already a mother of two, so in 1999 her youngest should already be at least 24 – but somehow in “Harm Done” her boys turn out to be younger than the sons of Stephen and Fay Devenish, who are 12 and 10.

Well, writers do this. I know that Ruth Rendell is still continuing her Wexford series, so she has no other way: nobody will keep a 80 year old Chief Inspector. For the sake of the quality of her books I’m only too happy to forgive her for this minor naughtiness.

Husbands beating up their wives need to expect no mercy from the author, as she has none for them, and no excuses. Stephen Devenish is a complete monstrosity: the reader can’t help rejoicing when he is found brutally murdered. Ruth Rendell sees to that. But there are other people whose attitude towards the problem can’t fail to cause indignation. There are a mother and a father to whom their own daughter comes to complain about horrible abuse she has to endure from her husband – and all they have to say is that she must be “provoking” him. The father adds that it’s okay to beat a wife with a stick, as long as the stick is not thicker than the husband’s thumb. Indeed! There is a pub owner who refuses to serve drinks to women who live in the refuge for battered wives. In his mind they are the bad lot, because they dared to leave their husbands; violent brutes who abuse and disfigure their wives are “decent fellows” according to him. No wonder Wexford feels disgusted in the presence of Mr Honeyman. And then there are neighbours of the refuge taking their petition from door to door to be signed, in order for it to be closed.

All this leaves a feeling of total hopelessness, but the book doesn’t depress – it encourages people to look at themselves and reconsider.

“Harm Done” is a very apt name for the book. I have known women who had been victims of domestic violence. I know that even after the brute disappers from their lives (via divorce or whatever it might be), the harm done by him lives on. The wounds on their bodies may heal with time, but their wounded souls never do. It may lead to various disorders – PTSD, for example – thus hampering their ability to communicate with other people, keep friendships and take part in social activities. Harm done to their children – witnesses to the abuse – never wears away either. Their lives are always affected; their own marriages might suffer from the painful memories of their childhoods.

I would like to believe that this brave and honest book written 10 years ago by a brave and honest lady has helped many unfortunate women out of the terrible situation in which they found themselves. I would like to believe that people like Mr Honeyman have significantly dwindled in number during the last decade. I know that people like Ruth Rendell make the world go round – make it a better place. I bow to her.