When Rick Dewhurst’s new P.I. Jane Sunday is first hired, she is asked to acquire evidence on her senior pastor, who is alleged to be adulterous. For the good of his daughters and the congregation, the pastor must be found out. Within days, the junior pastor of the same Vancouver church is found naked and dead in his swimming pool. As the ugly church politics unravel, Jane uncovers some very twisted people in a large network of corruption.
Dewhurst’s third novel isn’t a comedy like the other two. Jane’s sarcasm spices up almost conversation she has, but the story is serious, straight-forward detective fiction mixed with 1/3 cup of chick lit romance. It all weaves together pretty well. The villains have too much vinegar, particularly the boss of the pack. He comes across as Jabba the Hut.
But I’m not sure this novel is essentially about the murder mystery or the development of the 40-year-old female detective. It’s title, The Good Book Club, draws attention to the dozen or so pages that describe a women’s book discussion group. They chatter about The Great Gatsby, The Shack, and The Grapes of Wrath while the mystery unfolds, each from distinct perspectives which may be meant to represent the schemes in the visible church. Elsa, the librarian leader of the group, has an aversion to talking about Christian things, even if they are explicitly in the chosen book. Anne, a devoted believer, naturally talks about how the book relates to her faith, which prompts arguments over the appropriateness of the topic. For example:
“Elsa said, ‘Let’s try to keep the gospel out of this discussion for once. We’re studying literature, remember?’
“’But what about this Jim Casy character?’ Winnie said. ‘His initials are J.C. What was Steinbeck trying to say there?’
“’There you go again.’”
Dewhurst appears to be suggesting that many of our churches have become no more than good book clubs, comfortable places to discuss our individual observations about The Good Book and other topics. We can definitely apply that to the church in the story. It’s not kingdom-focused, gospel-centered congregation. It’s a club.
At one point, the pastor, who is a few veggies shy of a full plate, rants, “They come because their friends do, or they come because the church has the best program to suit whatever their selfish need is. But it’s our fault. We encourage them with our seeker-sensitive, purpose-driven shallowness. Forget the Cross; get results. … Nobody cares about character anymore.”
None of this leaves me with feeling warm and fuzzy. Sure, justice is served, but I still feel the tremors in the aftermath of a broken congregation.(I should say that Rick sent me this book because we have reviewed his other ones on BwB. Thanks, Rick. Reviews: My Fear Lady and Bye, Bye, Bertie)