48 pages • 1 hour read
Sue GraftonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The motif of the letters of the alphabet, starting with “A” in this installment, introduces readers to a literary device that methodically organizes the complex narrative of each book in the Alphabet Mysteries series. This motif not only adds a structural layer to the series but also echoes Millhone’s meticulous approach to detective work where each detail plays a crucial role in unveiling the truth.
While this strategy initially presents a systematic approach to mystery-solving, it indirectly engenders a deeper contemplation of Truth and Deception. With each book in the Alphabet series, it becomes apparent that the simplicity suggested by titles is misleading: Each novel contains an elaborate puzzle of human emotions, relationships, and dark secrets that are unraveled with each successive letter. For example, A Is for Alibi not only presents characters who all claim to have alibis for Laurence’s murder but also interrogates the nature of proof. The legal setting emphasizes that facts only count as truth if they can be proven, and skilled attorneys like Charlie know how to manipulate the law.
Alibis are usually considered keys to proving someone’s guilt or innocence, but Millhone notes that it's clear that “this was a murder where an alibi meant little or nothing” (27). The straightforward alphabetical motif, therefore, is a counterpoint to the complexity of the cases, questioning the possibility of ever fully understanding or categorizing human behavior and justice through a structured lens.
Millhone’s three-by-five index cards symbolize her careful and systematic approach to unveiling complex truths. They facilitate her deep dive into the intricacies of human behavior and motivations, serving a role akin to a detective’s magnifying glass. She records suspects’ personal details, background information, and notes about legal technicalities. To study the case, she tacks the cards up on a bulletin board, adding cards or taking them down as she comes to new conclusions.
Millhone’s use of index cards characterizes her as a hands-on detective rather than a cerebral Sherlock Holmes type. Rather than making intellectual deductions, she pieces cases together using tangible clues. She doesn’t theorize on the cards; she records facts. Each card carries pieces of information that slowly build a coherent narrative, one detail at a time.
They also represent her attempts to control her environment and emotions. For instance, after her meeting with Charlie, she “sat down at [her] desk and consigned Charlie Scorsoni to several index cards” (37). Her use of the verb “consigned” indicates that she is placing herself in a position of power over Charlie, making the final decisions about his role and value in the case. This provides a stark contrast with real life, as Millhone struggles with her attraction to Charlie, knowing that he could be a suspect.
Nikki Fife’s diary is a pivotal symbol in the novel, functioning both as an instrument that facilitates her conviction and a record of her unfiltered emotions. It provides particular insight into the complex dynamics of Marriage and Gender Roles, chronicling the euphoric onset of their relationship and its rapid demise. When Nikki discovers that Laurence is cheating after six months of marriage, she uses the diary to record his infidelities: “I listened in on phone calls. I followed him around town” (5). As she explains to Millhone, the more details she recorded, the more quickly she lost interest in Laurence. This convinces Millhone that Nikki may have been wrongly convicted.
The diary also symbolizes the subjective nature of truth within the legal system. While Millhone finds that the diary supports Nikki’s innocence, the prosecution leverages its intimate entries and contemplations of divorce to craft a narrative of revenge, underscoring the tragic consequences of a justice system in which women have little power.
Santa Teresa, the fictional iteration of Santa Barbara, symbolizes the fine line between appearance and reality, echoing the themes of Justice and Wrongful Imprisonment as well as truth and deception. At first glance, Santa Teresa is a wealthy, tranquil California city, mirroring the deceptive appearances that disguise injustice and falsehoods in the narrative: “The public buildings look like old Spanish missions, the private homes look like magazine illustrations” (10). The repetition of “look like” in describing the buildings indicates that they are neither as authentic nor as glossy as they appear. Likewise, the city, with its serene beaches, potted palm trees, bougainvillea, and expensive shops offers an illusion of sophistication that conceals the nefarious activities and complex mysteries beneath. By contrast, Millhone’s favorite spot, Rosie’s, is located on an “unpretentious street” away from the main boulevard’s chic restaurants. This positions Millhone as an outsider in her own town, giving her the perspective to observe events from a distance.
The Santa Teresa Police Department reflects the city’s desire to cover up any activities that might mar the city’s image. For example, the STPD conducts a “brief investigation” after Millhone shoots Charlie, but they make no arrests and quickly close the case. In the same vein, Dolan is reluctant to reopen Laurence’s murder case even though it may mean letting the real killer remain free.
By Sue Grafton