As far as pure writing goes,
John Banville is right up there with Murakmai or Coetzee as being one of the
best alive, whose only problem may be that he is too dense, which another way
of saying that he is too good. This book, Shroud, is the third of his that I
have read, and I hope to read many more. I loved The Sea, which is way more
entertaining than its loose plot and rich descriptions might make you think,
and in retrospect, The Book of Evidence is a lot better than it was after I was
done reading it. I have similar feelings to this novel as I do to The Book of
Evidence, where the great writing is so good it is kind of overwhelming, and it
is easy to get lost in this lush forest, especially with few clues to guide you
back to its main path. We first meet Axel Vander, the narrator of the novel, as
he is contemplating what lies ahead of him in this lonely world. His wife has
just died after a long battle with dementia, and an unknown source is
threatening to unveil information that would expose him as a fraud and
irreparably damage his reputation. You see, Axel is not who he says he is, and
he is hiding a secret that takes up a good portion of the novels last hundred
pages. He goes to meet this person, a woman called Cass Cleave, in Turin, along
with a few of his colleagues. After a few days and a couple of embarrassing
incidents, Axel reveals the secret to Cass, as he lies sick in his hotel room.
While this part lost me, it still packs a punch to fins out which Axel really
is. Maybe this book needs more time to sink in. But it is still worth a read
for anyone seeking a novel that is a deep meditation on truth and appearance.
Rating: 4/5
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