To Protect the Innocent

Mark Locke Mills

Imagine you are constructing a building dedicated to something that the vast majority of humanity would find to be a laudable goal-- curing cancer, perhaps, or stamping out the sexual abuse of children. When you tell people about this project, is there any doubt that you will meet with overwhelming support?

Now imagine that, in the actual construction of this project, a few sheets of a multi-sheet blueprint get turned around, so that instead of the vast, sweeping piece of formidable architecture you described to people, you get an odd-looking little hut, with gargoyles hanging precariously from the roof and flying buttresses buried twenty feet under the foundation.

Will people still flock to it, telling you that it doesn't matter what the thing actually looks like, it's the idea to which the place is dedicated that's most important? Obviously, the answer is no; whether it still fulfills the original idea of imparting its philosophy of curing cancer, stamping out sex abuse of children, whatever takes a backseat to the fact that the thing is ugly, awkwardly put together, and is in danger of being raided and shut down by OSHA because gargoyles may come crashing down, crushing a bunch of baldheaded little tykes touring the place.

That being the case, why on earth do people continue to insist that a horribly-constructed, badly-written book can be excused its horrible construction and bad writing because of its subject matter?

Such is the case with Mark Locke Mills' To Protect the Innocent. While it can be (and has been) argued that this is an important novel because of its extensive basis on the facts and figures of pedophilia in America, that in no way changes the fact that, in order for this to have actually been a publishable book, it would have required months of intensive editorial work and rewriting.

As a quick example of what I'm talking about, the first time a character is named in a section, say Susan Jensen, she is never referred to as "Susan," rarely as "Susan Jensen;" mostly, she's referred to as "reporter Susan Jensen," or, after she has a mid-novel career change, the even more awkward "documentary producer Susan Jensen." It's understandable a few times, if the author is carrying an extensive cast and needs to jog the reader's memory as to the identity of a minor character. But this is a major character, and Mills does it almost every time she reappears in the story. Multiply that by the number of characters with whom Mills employs this tactic, and it gets very annoying very quickly. And this is only one example; if you were to read the book yourself, you would find many more.

Calling To Protect the Innocent amatuerish writing is about as close as I can get to accurate, but in all honesty, I've read a whole lot of books from amateur writers that were far more deftly-executed than this. I give it half a star because I did finish it (though I hasten to add it was out of a sense of obligation, not because of any inherent readability). Maybe with a complete rewrite, this could be made into a decent genre thriller; as it stands now, avoid it like the plague. ½