I really thought I would enjoy this book. I have a high tolerance for descriptive character driven novels where almost no action occurs. I really enjoyed The Gathering - see! I like depressing Irish writing about death and memory. And Banville has such a way with words! I found myself looking up a new word on my iPhone dictionary app (which is free, and yes, you can judge me) on every other page - I can't remember the last time my vocabulary was challenged so much. And Banville always always chooses exactly the right word, which results in a vivid description of a thing or a place. This book is full of tiny moments of great loveliness, and arresting descriptions of very ordinary things.
Then why didn't I love it? The beautiful words and images just washed over my leaving almost no impression at all. I think the key issue for me was Banville totally failed to make me feel emotionally invested. The main character is a boring man - he even admits it himself!
... the congeries of affects, inclinations, received ideas, class tics, that my birth and upbringing had bestowed on me in place of a personality. In place of, yes. I never had a personality, not in the way that others have, or think they have. I was always a distinct no-one...So, at least for me, beautiful prose alone ultimately falls flat. I need some more personality.
In case you wondered how a book gets chosen for the Man Booker Prize, make sure one character dies in the sea. I read this book right before The Gathering.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this book a little bit more than you because of the intriguing/bizarre relationships the main character witnesses and is a part of. The book also leads the reader into questioning how much of what we see (or the inferences we make based on what we see) we can trust, but so many books give us that opportunity, so I was not blown away by this experience.