American by Day
by Derek B. Miller
American by Day (2018) is a crime story about Sigrid, a female Norwegian officer who kills a knife-wielding man and then goes off to America to find her missing brother last known to be in Watertown in Upstate New York. She is immediately at odds with the sheriff who is searching for her brother, a suspect in the murder of his girlfriend. Sigrid knows her brother is innocent because he is, well, her brother. One reviewer compared author Derek B. Miller to Tocqueville, the French author who wrote Democracy in America in the first half of the 19th Century including detailed observations. Derek B. Miller is no Tocqueville. His observations about America in general and the criminal justice system specifically that are the backdrop to this novel are so riddled with mistakes and inaccuracies that one has to wonder if he even visited Upstate New York or the United States or did any research. Granted it is fiction. Enjoy it for its wit and sarcasm if you like, as the author tries very hard to be clever throughout most of the book.
Sheriff Wylie is after Marcus, brother of Sigrid, for a crime apparently committed in the city of Watertown, which has a Police Department as well as jurisdiction over crimes in the city. Sheriff Wylie, contrary to Miller’s plot, would not operate out of the Police Department. Sheriffs have sheriffs’ offices. Sheriff Wylie, in the middle of a homicide investigation, brings Sigrid into the investigation of her brother in a move that would be preposterous in a criminal investigation, but the situation produces some wildly clever, albeit unbelievable, dialogue as Sigrid seeks to prove her missing brother’s innocence and Sheriff Wylie tries to catch him and Derek B. Miller tries to be clever.
Much of Miller’s wit is meaningless, tossed into the plot simply to show how clever he is. For example, the chase leads the sheriff and Sigrid to Saranac Lake in the Adirondacks of Upstate New York. The author explains that is not far from Lake Placid, “where the Olympics had once been held—back when they were held every four years and were therefore interesting.” As the plot is not about the interest level of the Olympics (Winter Olympics, he meant) as the author perceives it, the information does not further the plot but demonstrates Miller’s wit and sarcasm. Such meaningless statements are found on almost every page except on the chapters set in Norway when the author waxes sublime.
The book explores racial issues in America so stereotyped that they could have been portrayed by eighth grader. Brother Marcus’s girlfriend, Lydia, is a black academic whose teenage black nephew in the adjacent county was shot dead by police officer (deputy?) who was not charged. After the death of her nephew, she falls from the floor of an unfinished building (wait till the end to find out which floor) and Marcus, the sheriff believes, pushed her to her death. That’s why he fled. Sigrid believes Lydia committed suicide, but that does not sit well with her family or the black community as she would not go to heaven. So heaven decides who gets in and who doesn’t based on a grand jury decision? In this bizarre scenario, the sheriff walks a tightrope. Ultimately we learn that Lydia neither committed suicide nor was pushed. It was a slip and fall. How do we know it was an accident? Well the murder suspect, who was not advised of his rights, told the sheriff it was an accident and who would not believe a brother of ace Norwegian officer Sigrid. Everybody is happy in the end, including Sheriff Wylie, who ends up in the sack with Sigrid, obviously a prize for any American male.
As the book stumbles to a conclusion, the author continues to misunderstand the criminal justice system. The case of the shooting death of the black teenager by a white officer was considered by a grand jury, but Miller botches the process. Grand juries hand down indictments, formal criminal charges called “True Bills,” or if no criminal charges, “No True Bills” (and sometimes reports). Trial juries render verdicts. Prosecuting attorneys instruct a grand jury. Not in Miller’s fantasy, where a judge instructs the grand jury. The grand jury issues a verdict, and the case of the shooting officer (or deputy) does not go to trial. Perhaps most perplexing is the description of why.
“There was not enough reasonable doubt, they had decided, to advance the matter to trial, let alone convict him.”
This makes no sense. If there is lack of reasonable doubt, a trial is warranted and a conviction likely as juries are charged with handing down a guilty verdict only if guilt is beyond a reasonable doubt. Is it possible Miller so misunderstands the criminal justice system or was it a typo? Did he mean,
“There was enough reasonable doubt, they had decided, not to advance the matter to trial….”
New York grand jury information is available with the click of a mouse.
In a grand finale of bungling, Miller takes on geography and history, decimating both in one sentence. While hiding in a wooded area near Saranac, Marcus suffered the oppressive climate (unlike the wonderful climate of Norway).
“The air is so saturated it chokes you, and the only remedy is to plunge yourself into a lake and wash the sweat from your skin with the glacier water that collects in the Catskills.”
The Catskills is some 200 miles south of Saranac. Glaciers haven’t been seen there or anywhere else in the United States for some 15,000 years.
In his afternotes, the author writes “As a novelist, I occasionally take some liberties with reality.” In addition to being very witty, Miller is a master of understatement. These are not liberties. These are mistakes.
I believe most writers, novelists, journalists are meticulous about their writings. Settings and context can be portrayed in a realistic light without loss of aesthetics. Good authors take pride not just in their creative skills but in the care with which they practice their craft and the credibility they impart to their readers. These days so much information is available on the Internet, there really is no excuse—including taking liberties—for butchering a story.