I hold the unpopular opinion that fictional text cannot lie. If something impossible or mistaken happens in a piece of fiction, I feel it isn’t something to be ignored, but should instead be incorporated into the story no matter how ridiculous it may seem. If a Cadillac drives by in the background during the chariot race in Ben Hur, well, it could be proof of Philip K. Dick’s theory that the Roman Empire never really ended. Or if the Tin Woodsman unties the balloon in the Wizard of Oz and pretends that he had nothing to do with it’s premature release, it’s possible that with his brand-new heart he’s fallen in love with Dorothy and doesn’t want her to leave him.
Nowhere is this more inescapable then in mystery fiction. If an author makes a mistake in a mystery, that mistake becomes fact once the story is published. It may be a red herring, it may even be an error or lie told by an unreliable character, but there is no denying that any so-called mistake has a place in the mystery’s tapestry. Anything less would be completely dishonest.
The majority of Stephen King’s The Colorado Kid takes place in the newsroom of a small community flyer on an island in Maine during the present day. There, two seasoned journalists are inducting a summer intern into their ranks by relating the greatest mystery they ever stumbled across in their lengthy careers. In 1980, a man was found dead on the beach with no identification and no apparent motive for being there. Despite being printed under the Hard Case Crime imprint, The Colorado Kid isn’t a hard-bolied story, and isn’t even really a mystery in the usual sense, but is rather a quiet meditation on the allure of mysteries. And it contains what some would consider a small error.
“The Russian coin in his pocket, mixed in with the rest of his change,” Vince said. “It was a chervonetz. A ten-ruble piece. I asked her if he kept it as a lucky piece or something. She didn’t have a clue. Said the closest Jim had ever been to Russia was when they rented a James Bond movie called From Russia With Love at Blockbuster.”
I remember when my family bought our first VCR. The first movie we played on it was Psycho 2. This was around ‘84 or ‘85. Back then there wasn’t a huge amount of selection in the video stores, and what there was available could be pretty erratic. Many movies considered classics weren’t necessarily released right at the beginning of the video revolution. Now, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when From Russia With Love first came to video, but there is a really good possibility that it wasn’t released prior to 1980, which is the latest the alleged victim of the story could have seen it on tape. Aside from that, there is one undiputed fact that doesn’t correlate with the quote above.
Blockbuster was founded in 1985.
Logic would dictate that this was a mistake on King’s part. He whips out so many brand names in his stories that he might be excused a flub or two. In fact, this blog points out yet another anachronistic corporate namedrop besides Blockbuster. Well, fuck logic. In a mystery, as I stated above, this isn’t a mistake but a clue, and that leads to some interesting theories. At first I considered the possibility that it was the wife that was lying. However, her statement was made in 1981 or 1982, and unless she could see into the future it would be impossible for her to claim that her husband had rented From Russia With Love from Blockbuster. The only reasonable remaining explanation I can think of is that the person repeating the conversation, a character named Vince, is in error. Vince is one of the two journalists relating the story to the intern. It’s entirely possible that Vince simply used Blockbuster as a shortcut in describing a video store while repeating Jim’s wife’s claims, much like people use Kleenex in place of tissue, or Xerox instead of photocopy. The problem with this explanation is that during the telling of the story Vince is a stickler for detail, having replayed the facts of the case over and over in his mind for two decades. It’s unlikely that he would make a mistake like this. Unless he did so deliberately.
Which leaves us with motive. Why would Vince distort the wife’s statement, if she even made a statement like this at all? And if he deceived the intern with this false information, what else may he be distorting? Was it simply to put her through her paces? Is the entire case a big hoax? Or, most sinister of all, could Vince have been criminally involved in the case of the Colorado Kid and this is his way of covering his tracks?
“I remember when my family bought our first VCR. The first movie we played on it was Psycho 2. This was around ‘84 or ‘85. Back then there wasn’t a huge amount of selection in the video stores, and what there was available could be pretty erratic.”
I can remember renting a beta unit from “Take One Video” on Niagara street, circa 1982, the first movie I saw on a rented VCR was Airplane. We got our own Beta some three months later. I still have it, it still works!! However, the only tapes I have are 70s and 80s beta porn tapes and one tape that still has a “Take One Video” label on it. NIGHTMARES!! Emilio Esteves’ first movie (1984).