3.5 Stars
After
finishing a fairly lengthy, serious novel, I thought I’d switch to a
psychological thriller. This German book
was favourably reviewed in a number of places so I thought I’d give it a try. Its comparison to The Dinner by Herman Koch piqued my interest. After reading it, I would compare it more to
another of Koch’s books – Summer House
with Swimming Pool.
The
protagonist, Henry Hayden, is a famous novelist who has been successful enough
to live “a life of wealth and luxury.”
His secret is that he has actually written none of his best-selling
novels; they are the work of his wife Martha who feels compelled to write but
wants no attention or credit. Henry has
a mistress, Betty, who announces that she is pregnant. Wanting to continue to live “a free and
prosperous life,” Henry decides to take an action “to preserve the status quo”
but things go horribly wrong. He kills
the wrong person and soon finds himself in a cat-and-mouse game with police
detectives.
Henry is
morally reprehensible, and he doesn’t deny his character; he speaks of his
“innate wickedness” and describes himself as “a murderer, a liar, and a
fraud.” Nonetheless, he is capable of
“sporadic acts of goodness” and readers may find themselves hoping Henry will
be able to escape the punishment he admits he deserves. Henry even indirectly comments on the
reader’s dilemma: “Is it possible, Henry
sometimes wondered, to love a monster?
Is it permissible? It is in fact
obligatory, if you believe in human goodness.”
A problem
with the book is the number of secretive people. There’s Henry, of course, but there are others: Claus, Henry’s publisher, who hides his
terminal cancer diagnosis; Betty who wants to keep her pregnancy a secret; and Honor,
Claus’ assistant, who keeps her love for her boss a secret. And everyone seems to have emotional or
psychological issues: there’s a psychopath,
a synesthetic recluse who spent time in a psychiatric clinic, a fishmonger who
goes into uncontrollable rages, an envious man who wants revenge on a childhood
bully and stalks him for years, and a woman who schemes against another woman
whom she perceives as a romantic threat.
These characters are believable only if the reader, like Henry, believes
“in the self-evident badness of human beings.”
There are
sufficient plot twists to keep the reader interested. Henry is adept at alibis and has become an
expert on forensics and the science of criminal investigation, but will he be
able to foil the lead detective who is “a genius of case analysis” and has “a
solved crimes rate of one hundred percent”?
Unfortunately, there are a few too many narrow escapes so the reader’s
credibility may be overtaxed.
One of the
most enjoyable elements in the book is Henry’s observations, some astute and
some merely comic: “But men are never
more cowardly and their lies never more pathetic than when they’re caught with
their pants down” and “popularity is all too often confused with significance”
and “success was a mere shadow that shifts with the moving sun” and “A dash of
truth is often enough, but it’s indispensable, like the olive in a martini.”
This is a
quick, enjoyable read that doesn’t require much of the reader except to
question whether to believe in human goodness.
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