I don’t read true crime. I watch a popular true crime TV series, and I get scared. I overhear a true crime podcast, and I hear strange sounds in the apartment. But I, like so many other people, cannot help but be fascinated by such stories. The popularity of the genre cannot be understated. Why is the true crime section is so huge at most public libraries? Or why does it seem like there is a new unsolved crime documentary every other month, and seemingly everyone has watched it? Despite my weak constitution, I still devour the documentaries and follow up on the stories because they fascinate me. This was part of the reason I picked up my first true crime book.
The Man from the Train, by Bill and Rachel James, is a heart-pounding, yet humorous study on a presumed serial killer whose crimes have been unsolved for over a hundred years. That’s right: one hundred years. Now, the other reason I picked up this book, admittedly, was the author. Possibly you recognize the name, Bill James, from something other than true crime1. For years, I had been a fan of his pioneering of baseball statistics.
Although this is not James’ first foray into true crime, it gives him a chance to use his research and analytical skills to attempt to solve this century-old murder. The amount of research the father and daughter team complete is just astounding. Think about it: the crimes would have been reported by local newspapers--and that’s about it. This was about forty years before TV and eighty years before the Internet, so news didn’t get around very fast. Despite working with biased, racist, and incomplete primary sources, they are able to compile a laundry list of crimes with several similarities that lead to a certain conclusion.
It is only fair to allow you to discover that conclusion, as the authors are very careful not to lead in one way or another. They state their ideas clearly, but want the reader to arrive at their own in due course. And you will form an opinion after seeing the purported evidence (an opinion which, in all likelihood, will be similar to the authors). There is nothing misleading about the details presented. Instead, they are upfront when presenting both information as fact and information as conjecture. That information may shape you, but it does not force you to agree with the authors. There is room for interpretation--albeit not much room.
Finally, the book is actually hilarious, or as hilarious as a book about an axe murderer could be. If you are familiar with Bill James' work on baseball statistics, you are probably familiar with his distinctive voice. The tone is almost conversational, addressing the reader directly, joking casually about incompetent law enforcement, or openly criticizing racist accusations of the early 20th century America. Not that they don't take the story seriously, but the authors make light when they can, surely appreciated in this gruesome, tragic story. If you are new to true crime, this is a great book to start. If you are a longtime fan, you won't be disappointed either.
1 Briefly, Bill James wrote articles and books asking new questions about baseball performance. He invented new stats as a way to measure and compare players, ultimately publishing his Historical Baseball Abstract, the sacred text to baseball and statistics nerds. If you’ve read Moneyball or seen the film, you know who this is.↩
