Later, when Alice, a librarian, suspects that the killer is one of them, she realizes that she feels more moral outrage toward drunken drivers and cheating landlords on the television news. The operating condition here is affectlessness, formerly known as cool. The author matches her tone to her people with unerring pitch. Images have an elegant, satisfying thwack, like the closing of solid-core doors. In a chic clothing store, ''the mirrors were along the south wall, silvering the air. . . .
Fear is just another emotion that hangs out, waiting for itself to happen.
It drifts through the door like an intruder in overpriced sneakers who has somehow got hold of the key. By the way, the detective's name is Honey. A nice touch. Jane Smiley appears to have an unbreakable habit of them.