The
first is that I accidentally did not start at the beginning. As I
was reading, I felt that some of the pieces of the characters' back
stories were missing, and I afterward discovered what the problem
was. (I always like to read a book 'cold' and only read about it when
I'm done). Some of the characters had appeared in two of his earlier
books, “Eclipse” and “Shroud”. The main character, aging
actor Alexander Cleave, looks back on his life, including the suicide
of his only daughter Cass. I kept thinking he would expand on the
circumstances that led to her death, but they had been covered in an
earlier book. Likewise, Alex has been asked to play the part of
literary critic Axel Vander in an upcoming biographical movie, and it
is clear that Vander's life had some unsavory chapters, but he too
was fleshed out in an earlier novel.
As
Cleave prepares for his role he reminisces about his love affair at
the age of 15 with the 35-year-old mother of his best friend. We see
the drama solely from his perspective, he was the very definition of
a callow youth, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what she
saw in him. I know, I know, it's no different from “Lolita” with
the genders flipped, but I just wasn't persuaded that Mrs. Grey (as
he calls her throughout) would be attracted to this pouting,
headstrong, adolescent. The sex was great for him (as he frequently
remarks) and I'm sure she enjoyed it too (although he wasn't terribly
concerned that she did so), but it felt too much like a male fantasy
to me. My 35-year-old self would have been creeped out by the whole
idea of it. I guess I don't have enough Mrs. Robinson in me.
Banville
is a wonderful writer, and his thoughts on the power and the limits
of memory are beautifully expressed, but this one just didn't do it
for me.
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