John Banville wrote the "serious" books, the award winners. "The Sea," a book I cherish, won the Booker Prize in 2005. His alter ego, Benjamin Black, wrote crime novels, the entries trapped in that genre, most featuring a pathologist, Quirke. Later, too, he employed detective St. John Strafford. The serious books took years to write, the crime books ("cheap fiction" in his words) came flying out effortlessly. With the publication of "Snow" in 2020, the pseudonym Benjamin Black was dissolved, and work was now solely credited to Banville, as he decided that his crime writing was not so bad, after all.
I recently read Banville's "The Lock Up" just before reading "The Drowned." Both team the Quirke and Strafford characters and I was a little anxious trying to get the back story on their relationship. I discovered Gabriel Byrne's mini-series, "Quirke," and that threw me for a loop as I pictured the character quite differently. This is a case where I would have greatly benefited from reading the earlier entries in the series.
As a "stand alone," "The Drowned" is still a treat. Banville's crime novels may seem quite stripped down and to the point, but he cannot keep some wonderful prose out. This is not paint-by-the-numbers whodunit writing. Sometimes you look at what you have read and marvel...
"The day was still fine, but the sky was hazed over, and the sunshine had grown dense and grainy. The Indian summer was even still clinging onâ along the roadside most of the trees had not turned yet, though their green was more a dusty grey. And there was that familiar tang of wood smoke on the air. Bonfire season. Strafford had a sense of listless melancholy. Why did this time of year always conjure up childhood and the past?"
And later...
"Even yet the weather held, autumn still masquerading as summer. But there was none of summer's languorous vibrancy, only a great paleblue stillness, the air shot through with glints of old gold. All was misted, pensive, tinged with melancholy."
There are very few writers who can build up the pulse of a thriller without sacrificing the richness of language. I find James Lee Burke can floor me with his feel for place, be that Louisiana or Montana.
"The Drowned" starts off in 1950's Ireland with a missing woman and both Quirke and Strafford are drawn into the case. Strafford happens to be romantically involved with Quirke's daughter... a potentially explosive situation. This is a quick read; the pages turn themselves (pardon the cliche) and provide for a rewarding experience. I have the first of the Quirke series, "Christine Falls," sitting on my dresser and I plan on working my way back down to the latest two. Every Banville book is worth the journey.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
I recently read Banville's "The Lock Up" just before reading "The Drowned." Both team the Quirke and Strafford characters and I was a little anxious trying to get the back story on their relationship. I discovered Gabriel Byrne's mini-series, "Quirke," and that threw me for a loop as I pictured the character quite differently. This is a case where I would have greatly benefited from reading the earlier entries in the series.
As a "stand alone," "The Drowned" is still a treat. Banville's crime novels may seem quite stripped down and to the point, but he cannot keep some wonderful prose out. This is not paint-by-the-numbers whodunit writing. Sometimes you look at what you have read and marvel...
"The day was still fine, but the sky was hazed over, and the sunshine had grown dense and grainy. The Indian summer was even still clinging onâ along the roadside most of the trees had not turned yet, though their green was more a dusty grey. And there was that familiar tang of wood smoke on the air. Bonfire season. Strafford had a sense of listless melancholy. Why did this time of year always conjure up childhood and the past?"
And later...
"Even yet the weather held, autumn still masquerading as summer. But there was none of summer's languorous vibrancy, only a great paleblue stillness, the air shot through with glints of old gold. All was misted, pensive, tinged with melancholy."
There are very few writers who can build up the pulse of a thriller without sacrificing the richness of language. I find James Lee Burke can floor me with his feel for place, be that Louisiana or Montana.
"The Drowned" starts off in 1950's Ireland with a missing woman and both Quirke and Strafford are drawn into the case. Strafford happens to be romantically involved with Quirke's daughter... a potentially explosive situation. This is a quick read; the pages turn themselves (pardon the cliche) and provide for a rewarding experience. I have the first of the Quirke series, "Christine Falls," sitting on my dresser and I plan on working my way back down to the latest two. Every Banville book is worth the journey.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
