Kate Mason, the central character in Vancouver author Genni Gunn’s third novel, Tracing Iris, has a life even the worst-off won’t envy. Abandoned at an early age by her mother, Kate’s spent the majority of her 30-odd years pining for her return. When Kate herself returns home after almost two decades away (her father banished her as a teenager), she’s determined to follow the clues that will lead her to her mother.

Part confessional and part murder mystery, Tracing Iris is more likely to share shelf-space with the likes of Margaret Atwood than Agatha Christie. Gunn is more interested in probing Kate’s emotional wilderness than in tracking down criminals, and deftly selects words for their sound as much as for their meaning. She introduces sections with italicized poetic meditations, soothing and jarring the reader by turns, a device that aptly reflects Kate’s tormented inner world.

Gunn reveals herself to be competent at plot development as well. Kate’s constant activity (she’s almost always driving somewhere) keeps the novel moving at a quick pace. And when she finally discovers the secret of her missing mother, it’s as much of a surprise to readers as it is to Kate herself.

Unfortunately, Gunn too often resorts to a “tell-don’t-show” approach to fiction. Characters come with labels – we’re told that Kate’s aunt is an “obsessive personality” rather than being permitted to observe this on our own, while Kate’s job as an archeologist carries far too much of the novel’s thematic weight. Gunn seems anxious for readers to grasp the clever relationship between Kate’s professional and personal lives; she is continually pointing it out. When Kate’s not internally ruminating on the perils of human cruelty (her area of academic specialty), her excerpted lecture notes pick up the theme. The result makes for a novel that leaves far too little to the imagination.