The Impossible

‘I’ve been thinking about locked room mysteries,’ said Mumford.

‘Do you mean the Edgar Allen Poe story?’ Mieke indicated a book on Mumford’s table.

‘”Murders in the Rue Morgue”, yes.’

‘So that’s where there’s a body found locked in a room with the key inside. It’s an impossible murder.’

‘That’s it. A lot of mystery writers have had a crack at it. John Dickson Carr and G. K. Chesterton.’ 

‘And why would they be so popular? I mean I can see it, but I have a feeling you’re about to make something of it.’

Mumford said, ‘I think it’s the impossible.’

The Impossible

‘When we’re confronted with a mystery, our logical minds spring into action. We search for small facts, clues, and piece them together into narratives that might make sense of what has happened. Exploration, observation, deduction, induction. The pleasurable exercise of reason.

‘But when confronted with something that’s impossible, our minds pause. They drift. They spin outwards.

‘Something is inherently wrong here. The ground has shifted. Everything we thought we knew must be questioned, examined and re-assessed. Suddenly the universe of ideas seems limitless.’

‘Hmm,’ said Mieke.

‘Do you know,’ Mumford picked up an old black notebook. ‘I found this thing I’ve scribbled down one day. It says it’s a quote from Les Murray, from an interview on ABC Radio.

Les Murray

He says,

I love the impossible. It’s the only thing that opens.

Mumford shrugged. ‘I can’t find another reference to the interview anywhere. The moment has passed into the air.’

‘And we can’t ask Les.’

‘Precisely. But I like to think the note was right, that Les did say that.

‘Because it’s exactly how I feel about the impossible.’

I love the impossible. It’s the only thing that opens.

IMAGE: “Dark Room” by Tomas Monteiro via pexels.