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Detective Inspector St. John Strafford has been summoned to County Wexford to investigate a murder. A parish priest has been found dead in Ballyglass House, the family seat of the aristocratic, secretive Osborne family.
The year is 1957 and the Catholic Church rules Ireland with an iron fist. Strafford—flinty, visibly Protestant, and determined to identify the murderer—faces obstruction at every turn, from the heavily accumulating snow to the culture of silence in this tight-knit community. As he delves further, he learns the Osbornes are not at all what they seem. And when his own deputy goes missing, Strafford must work to unravel the ever-expanding mystery before the community’s secrets, like the snowfall itself, threatens to obliterate everything.
The incomparable Booker Prize winner's next great crime novel - the story of a family whose secrets resurface when a parish priest is found murdered in their ancestral home.
The year is 1957 and the Catholic Church rules Ireland with an iron fist. Strafford—flinty, visibly Protestant, and determined to identify the murderer—faces obstruction at every turn, from the heavily accumulating snow to the culture of silence in this tight-knit community. As he delves further, he learns the Osbornes are not at all what they seem. And when his own deputy goes missing, Strafford must work to unravel the ever-expanding mystery before the community’s secrets, like the snowfall itself, threatens to obliterate everything.
The incomparable Booker Prize winner's next great crime novel - the story of a family whose secrets resurface when a parish priest is found murdered in their ancestral home.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published September 29, 2020
About the author
John Banville
115 books2,096 followersWilliam John Banville is an Irish novelist, short story writer, adapter of dramas and screenwriter. Though he has been described as "the heir to Proust, via Nabokov", Banville himself maintains that W.B. Yeats and Henry James are the two real influences on his work.
Banville has won the 1976 James Tait Black Memorial Prize, the 2003 International Nonino Prize, the 2005 Booker Prize, the 2011 Franz Kafka Prize, the 2013 Austrian State Prize for European Literature and the 2014 Prince of Asturias Award for Literature. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 2007. Italy made him a Cavaliere of the Ordine della Stella d'Italia (essentially a knighthood) in 2017. He is a former member of Aosdána, having voluntarily relinquished the financial stipend in 2001 to another, more impoverished, writer.
Banville was born and grew up in Wexford town in south-east Ireland. He published his first novel, Nightspawn, in 1971. A second, Birchwood, followed two years later. "The Revolutions Trilogy", published between 1976 and 1982, comprises three works, each named in reference to a renowned scientist: Doctor Copernicus, Kepler and The Newton Letter. His next work, Mefisto, had a mathematical theme. His 1989 novel The Book of Evidence, shortlisted for the Booker Prize and winner of that year's Guinness Peat Aviation award, heralded a second trilogy, three works which deal in common with the work of art. "The Frames Trilogy" is completed by Ghosts and Athena, both published during the 1990s. Banville's thirteenth novel, The Sea, won the Booker Prize in 2005. In addition, he publishes crime novels as Benjamin Black — most of these feature the character of Quirke, an Irish pathologist based in Dublin.
Banville is considered a contender for the Nobel Prize in Literature. He lives in Dublin.
Banville has won the 1976 James Tait Black Memorial Prize, the 2003 International Nonino Prize, the 2005 Booker Prize, the 2011 Franz Kafka Prize, the 2013 Austrian State Prize for European Literature and the 2014 Prince of Asturias Award for Literature. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 2007. Italy made him a Cavaliere of the Ordine della Stella d'Italia (essentially a knighthood) in 2017. He is a former member of Aosdána, having voluntarily relinquished the financial stipend in 2001 to another, more impoverished, writer.
Banville was born and grew up in Wexford town in south-east Ireland. He published his first novel, Nightspawn, in 1971. A second, Birchwood, followed two years later. "The Revolutions Trilogy", published between 1976 and 1982, comprises three works, each named in reference to a renowned scientist: Doctor Copernicus, Kepler and The Newton Letter. His next work, Mefisto, had a mathematical theme. His 1989 novel The Book of Evidence, shortlisted for the Booker Prize and winner of that year's Guinness Peat Aviation award, heralded a second trilogy, three works which deal in common with the work of art. "The Frames Trilogy" is completed by Ghosts and Athena, both published during the 1990s. Banville's thirteenth novel, The Sea, won the Booker Prize in 2005. In addition, he publishes crime novels as Benjamin Black — most of these feature the character of Quirke, an Irish pathologist based in Dublin.
Banville is considered a contender for the Nobel Prize in Literature. He lives in Dublin.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,561 reviews
September 13, 2020
John Banville's historical mystery is set in a heavily snowed in Christmas period in Ireland, County Wexford, in 1957, featuring 35 year old Protestant Dublin Inspector St John Strafford sent to the scene of a gruesome murder of a Catholic Father Tom Lawless at the dilapidated and cold manor, Ballyglass, belonging to the aristocratic Colonel Geoffrey Osborne. Discovered in the early hours of the morning by Sylvia, the insomniac wife of Osborne, the body is in the library, all so very Agatha Christie, and the crime scene has been interfered with. The victim was a regular house visitor, with his horse, Mr Sugar, stabled there. It is an unheard of crime, the stabbing of a member of the Catholic clergy, the horror compounded by the removal of his genitals.
Powerful influences make their mark, particularly the raw absolute power of the Catholic Church under Archbishop Dr McQuaid, there is little intention of making the true details of the murder public, with mendacious press statements that refer to the murder as an accident and there is distinct pressure to try to ensure Strafford's investigation fails. Strafford, like the Protestant Osborne, is from the same class and background, an outsider in the mainly Catholic police force, an isolated observer, alone and lonely, cut adrift, feeling out of his depth. His interior life reveals a uncertain, detached and under-confident man, dwelling on how he is in the wrong profession, that he should have been a lawyer, but there is a core within him that rebels against the cover up, driving his determination to find the killer. The case reeks of theatricalism, given the snow, the killer must have been a member of the household, all of whom are acting roles that come across as inauthentic.
Banville's focus is on revealing a detailed picture of Ireland in the 1950s, the lowly position of women, the suppression of sexuality, the turning of blind eyes to overt wrong doing, the religious and class divisions, the propensity of the powerful, individuals and institutions, like the Catholic Church, to feel untouchable, covering up abuses with impunity, and totally unaccountable. Given the spectacular fall from grace of the Irish Catholic Church in more recent times, the motivation behind the killing of Father Tom Lawless is not that hard to figure out, the author gives Lawless a voice in the narrative, providing a personal explanation of how he came to be who he is. A fascinating and engaging read of a specific period of time in Irish history. Many thanks to Faber and Faber for an ARC.
Powerful influences make their mark, particularly the raw absolute power of the Catholic Church under Archbishop Dr McQuaid, there is little intention of making the true details of the murder public, with mendacious press statements that refer to the murder as an accident and there is distinct pressure to try to ensure Strafford's investigation fails. Strafford, like the Protestant Osborne, is from the same class and background, an outsider in the mainly Catholic police force, an isolated observer, alone and lonely, cut adrift, feeling out of his depth. His interior life reveals a uncertain, detached and under-confident man, dwelling on how he is in the wrong profession, that he should have been a lawyer, but there is a core within him that rebels against the cover up, driving his determination to find the killer. The case reeks of theatricalism, given the snow, the killer must have been a member of the household, all of whom are acting roles that come across as inauthentic.
Banville's focus is on revealing a detailed picture of Ireland in the 1950s, the lowly position of women, the suppression of sexuality, the turning of blind eyes to overt wrong doing, the religious and class divisions, the propensity of the powerful, individuals and institutions, like the Catholic Church, to feel untouchable, covering up abuses with impunity, and totally unaccountable. Given the spectacular fall from grace of the Irish Catholic Church in more recent times, the motivation behind the killing of Father Tom Lawless is not that hard to figure out, the author gives Lawless a voice in the narrative, providing a personal explanation of how he came to be who he is. A fascinating and engaging read of a specific period of time in Irish history. Many thanks to Faber and Faber for an ARC.
October 8, 2020
4 stars for an entertaining read about a murder mystery in rural Ireland in the 1950s. This mystery is as much about attitudes in Irish society as it is a murder mystery. A respected Catholic parish priest is found dead in the house of a local Protestant country squire. Religious attitudes and the power of the RC church in 1950s play a prominent role in this book. Detective Inspector Strafford is called in from Dublin to investigate. He and Detective Sergeant Jenkins start to investigate and slowly uncover a tangled web of secrets and lies. The murder was rather gruesome, and there is a pedophile character in the book. This may not be appropriate for cozy mystery fans.
However, the author's description of people and Irish society is full of rich imagery, with a sharp eye for detail.
Some quotes:
Country squire: "Colonel Osborne looked to be in his early fifties, lean and leathery, with a nail brush mustache and sharp ice-blue eyes. He was of middle height, and would have been taller if he hadn't been markedly bow-legged-the result perhaps, Strafford though sardonically, of all that riding to the hounds-and he walked with a curious gait, at once rolling and rickety, like an orangutan that had something wrong with its knees."
Food: "Strafford smiled weakly. 'Oh, I always think steak and kidney pud is better the second day, don't you?' He felt noble and brave. He could not understand how the kidneys of a cow had come to be regarded as food fit for human consumption."
Conversation between Strafford and the local B&B owner: "I read when I have time.
"Ah but you should
make time. The book is one of our great inventions of our species."
Winter: "Frost laden trees, ghost-white and stark, reared up at him in the headlights, their boughs thrown upwards as if in fright."
Thanks to Faber and Faber for sending me this eARC through NetGalley.
Update: Oct. 8,2020--My wife read this book and liked it.
However, the author's description of people and Irish society is full of rich imagery, with a sharp eye for detail.
Some quotes:
Country squire: "Colonel Osborne looked to be in his early fifties, lean and leathery, with a nail brush mustache and sharp ice-blue eyes. He was of middle height, and would have been taller if he hadn't been markedly bow-legged-the result perhaps, Strafford though sardonically, of all that riding to the hounds-and he walked with a curious gait, at once rolling and rickety, like an orangutan that had something wrong with its knees."
Food: "Strafford smiled weakly. 'Oh, I always think steak and kidney pud is better the second day, don't you?' He felt noble and brave. He could not understand how the kidneys of a cow had come to be regarded as food fit for human consumption."
Conversation between Strafford and the local B&B owner: "I read when I have time.
"Ah but you should
make time. The book is one of our great inventions of our species."
Winter: "Frost laden trees, ghost-white and stark, reared up at him in the headlights, their boughs thrown upwards as if in fright."
Thanks to Faber and Faber for sending me this eARC through NetGalley.
Update: Oct. 8,2020--My wife read this book and liked it.
September 4, 2020
Shroud
A deeply attentive plot that is clever and watchful through the characters that are so wonderfully drawn. There are many subtle nuances that enable John Banville to play with scenarios that are intriguing to observe, particularly the relationship between the preeminent catholic church in Ireland and the protestant citizens that tended to hold positions of wealth and standing. The imagery of a landscape covered in snow provides a very intriguing analogy with a blanket of cover concealing crimes, lies and secrets. Under the unbroken whiteness lies the dark reality of what the normal ground looks like.
Detective Inspector St John Strafford (with an R) is dispatched to Osborne Manor to investigate the murder and mutilation of a catholic priest. Father Tom Lawless was found dead in the library, in a pool of blood with his genitals removed, and where the body has been respectfully repositioned with the blood around the body mopped up. There are several contrasting themes at play throughout the novel, none more glaring than the catholic-protestant wariness and how it adds to suspicion and motives around everyone. Strafford is a protestant detective in the catholic dominated police force and Colonel Osborne is the protestant owner of Osborne Manor and its estate. The influence of the Catholic Archbishop is considerable and the body does not remain local in Wexford but driven to Dublin for autopsy.
A police crime-investigation into the murder and mutilation of a priest in Ireland – I wonder what the priest could have been guilty of to warrant such a reaction? It seems that once Ireland emerged from the controlling societal influence of the catholic church, it opened the flood gates for stories that shone the light on so many dark crimes from within the church.
Snow is a different type of book from other John Banville books I've read, and I felt his wonderful literary ability and careful development of characters and backdrop kept the pace of this story slightly subdued - it could not be described as a pacey thriller. The character development creates several fascinating personalities and relationships, particularly DI Strafford, and I did fully enjoy the Osborne family. The multiple contrasting layers of mistrust, intrigue, allure, disguise and peculiar behaviour all add to a mysterious murder hunt.
I would like to thank Harlequin Trade Publishing, Hanover Square Press and NetGalley for providing me with a free ARC in return for an honest review.
A deeply attentive plot that is clever and watchful through the characters that are so wonderfully drawn. There are many subtle nuances that enable John Banville to play with scenarios that are intriguing to observe, particularly the relationship between the preeminent catholic church in Ireland and the protestant citizens that tended to hold positions of wealth and standing. The imagery of a landscape covered in snow provides a very intriguing analogy with a blanket of cover concealing crimes, lies and secrets. Under the unbroken whiteness lies the dark reality of what the normal ground looks like.
Detective Inspector St John Strafford (with an R) is dispatched to Osborne Manor to investigate the murder and mutilation of a catholic priest. Father Tom Lawless was found dead in the library, in a pool of blood with his genitals removed, and where the body has been respectfully repositioned with the blood around the body mopped up. There are several contrasting themes at play throughout the novel, none more glaring than the catholic-protestant wariness and how it adds to suspicion and motives around everyone. Strafford is a protestant detective in the catholic dominated police force and Colonel Osborne is the protestant owner of Osborne Manor and its estate. The influence of the Catholic Archbishop is considerable and the body does not remain local in Wexford but driven to Dublin for autopsy.
A police crime-investigation into the murder and mutilation of a priest in Ireland – I wonder what the priest could have been guilty of to warrant such a reaction? It seems that once Ireland emerged from the controlling societal influence of the catholic church, it opened the flood gates for stories that shone the light on so many dark crimes from within the church.
Snow is a different type of book from other John Banville books I've read, and I felt his wonderful literary ability and careful development of characters and backdrop kept the pace of this story slightly subdued - it could not be described as a pacey thriller. The character development creates several fascinating personalities and relationships, particularly DI Strafford, and I did fully enjoy the Osborne family. The multiple contrasting layers of mistrust, intrigue, allure, disguise and peculiar behaviour all add to a mysterious murder hunt.
I would like to thank Harlequin Trade Publishing, Hanover Square Press and NetGalley for providing me with a free ARC in return for an honest review.
July 17, 2020
The story starts as one of the most famous detective story and with a wink from Mr Banville who creates his very own story with the snow and cold in the foreground. Detective Inspector St John Strafford is engimatic, withdrawn and a Protestant delegated to an Irish manor house to investigate the death of a Catholic priest.
His aristocratic background allows him to recognize in Ballyglass House the world from which he escaped but which still holds a steady grip on him. Strafford is not a character begging to be liked but somehow I did take a shine to him, possibly due to his isolation ... Strafford is a lonely man, keeping the distance and trying to do his duty finding the culprit. He is not easily influenced by men of power whose intention is to hide the real motive behind the death of the man of cloth. The motive is easy to guess and in my opinion the murder is just an excuse for Mr Banville to present the situation Ireland in the middle of the 20th century with regard to the Catholic Church and the position of the Protestants. The novel is not a treaty on the complicated relations but a rather insighful glance at the ways the world was run in those days in Ireland.
A big thank-you to John Banville, Faber and Faber and NetGalley for arc in exchange for my honest review.*
His aristocratic background allows him to recognize in Ballyglass House the world from which he escaped but which still holds a steady grip on him. Strafford is not a character begging to be liked but somehow I did take a shine to him, possibly due to his isolation ... Strafford is a lonely man, keeping the distance and trying to do his duty finding the culprit. He is not easily influenced by men of power whose intention is to hide the real motive behind the death of the man of cloth. The motive is easy to guess and in my opinion the murder is just an excuse for Mr Banville to present the situation Ireland in the middle of the 20th century with regard to the Catholic Church and the position of the Protestants. The novel is not a treaty on the complicated relations but a rather insighful glance at the ways the world was run in those days in Ireland.
A big thank-you to John Banville, Faber and Faber and NetGalley for arc in exchange for my honest review.*
October 28, 2023
This is the second of the author’s Detective Inspector St. John Strafford novels. The first, The Secret Guests, was written under a pseudonym, Benjamin Black.
A parish priest has been found dead in Ballyglass House, the family seat of the aristocratic and secretive Osborne family. Even though the Osborne family is Protestant, the Catholic priest is a frequent (often overnight) guest because he enjoys the conversation and the drink. He also keeps a stabled horse there.
It’s 1957 and the Catholic Church still rules Ireland behind the scenes. The archbishop wants the priest’s murder and mutilation covered up, so Detective Stafford faces obstacles at every turn. We surmise that the continuous snow is a metaphor for the cover-up.
We have, as the author tells us, a bunch of stereotypical suspects as if they had been selected to be cast in these roles on the stage. There's the staid old estate owner, filled with war stories and riding to hounds. There's his frail, older, but still beautiful second wife. Two snotty-spoiled almost college-age kids, a boy and a girl, live there too. They were born to the deceased first wife. There's a domineering, grumpy live-in maid/cook. There's a crazy stable boy living in a filthy caravan in the woods.
Did one of them do it, and, if so, why?
The detective faces a lack of cooperation from the Catholic locals who immediately sniff out Strafford’s Protestantism. When he meets people they always tell him “ 'You don’t look like a policeman,' but what people meant was that he didn’t look like an Irish policeman.”
We get tidbits of the Catholic/Protestant ‘coding’ that always goes on in this society: your speech; your name; how you take your tea; whether or not you eat kidney pie; whether you order Bushmills or Jameson at the bar.
The Booker Prize-winning author (for The Sea, 2005) is famous for his beautiful writing. So I won’t give any more of the story and instead offer some samples of his writing:
“The priest’s cassock hung on the back of the door, like the flayed black pelt of some large, smooth-skinned animal.”
Here’s how he sets a scene: “The library had the look of a place that no one had been in for a very long time, and today it wore a put-upon aspect, as though indignant that its solitude should be so suddenly and so rudely violated. The glass-fronted bookcases lining the walls stared before them coldly, and the books stood shoulder to shoulder in an attitude of mute resentment. The mullioned windows were set into deep granite embrasures, and snow-light glared through their numerous tiny leaded panes. Strafford had already cast a skeptical eye on the architecture of the place. Arts-and- Crafts fakery, he had thought straight off, with a mental sniff. He wasn't a snob, not exactly, only he likes things to be left as they were, and not got up as what they could never hope to be.”
Here's a character description (the estate owner’s wife): “She stood in a low doorway leading off to another part of the house, with one hand folded tensely over the other at the level of her waist. She was tall - she had to stoop a little in the doorway - and markedly slender, and her skin was pinkly pale, the color of skimmed milk into which had been mixed a single drop of blood. Her face was like that of a Madonna by one of the lesser Old Masters, with dark eyes and a long sharp nose with a little bump at the tip. She wore a beige cardigan and a calf-length gray skirt that hung a little crookedly on her hips, which were no broader than a boy’s.”
And there’s humor. Here’s the estate owner: “He was of middle height, and would have been taller if he hadn't been markedly bowlegged - the result, perhaps, Strafford thought sardonically, of all that riding to hounds - and he walked with a curious gait, at once rolling and rickety, like an orangutan that had something wrong with its knees.”
Great writing and a good story, worth a ‘5.’
This is the middle novel in the series of three Detective Straffords. The first was The Secret Guests, and the third, which I also reviewed, is April in Spain.
Top photo of an Irish manor house, Cahernane House in Killarney, County Kerry from infiniteireland.com
An Irish Village on youtube.com
The author (b. 1945) from theguardian.com
[Edited 10/28/23]
A parish priest has been found dead in Ballyglass House, the family seat of the aristocratic and secretive Osborne family. Even though the Osborne family is Protestant, the Catholic priest is a frequent (often overnight) guest because he enjoys the conversation and the drink. He also keeps a stabled horse there.
It’s 1957 and the Catholic Church still rules Ireland behind the scenes. The archbishop wants the priest’s murder and mutilation covered up, so Detective Stafford faces obstacles at every turn. We surmise that the continuous snow is a metaphor for the cover-up.
We have, as the author tells us, a bunch of stereotypical suspects as if they had been selected to be cast in these roles on the stage. There's the staid old estate owner, filled with war stories and riding to hounds. There's his frail, older, but still beautiful second wife. Two snotty-spoiled almost college-age kids, a boy and a girl, live there too. They were born to the deceased first wife. There's a domineering, grumpy live-in maid/cook. There's a crazy stable boy living in a filthy caravan in the woods.
Did one of them do it, and, if so, why?
The detective faces a lack of cooperation from the Catholic locals who immediately sniff out Strafford’s Protestantism. When he meets people they always tell him “ 'You don’t look like a policeman,' but what people meant was that he didn’t look like an Irish policeman.”
We get tidbits of the Catholic/Protestant ‘coding’ that always goes on in this society: your speech; your name; how you take your tea; whether or not you eat kidney pie; whether you order Bushmills or Jameson at the bar.
The Booker Prize-winning author (for The Sea, 2005) is famous for his beautiful writing. So I won’t give any more of the story and instead offer some samples of his writing:
“The priest’s cassock hung on the back of the door, like the flayed black pelt of some large, smooth-skinned animal.”
Here’s how he sets a scene: “The library had the look of a place that no one had been in for a very long time, and today it wore a put-upon aspect, as though indignant that its solitude should be so suddenly and so rudely violated. The glass-fronted bookcases lining the walls stared before them coldly, and the books stood shoulder to shoulder in an attitude of mute resentment. The mullioned windows were set into deep granite embrasures, and snow-light glared through their numerous tiny leaded panes. Strafford had already cast a skeptical eye on the architecture of the place. Arts-and- Crafts fakery, he had thought straight off, with a mental sniff. He wasn't a snob, not exactly, only he likes things to be left as they were, and not got up as what they could never hope to be.”
Here's a character description (the estate owner’s wife): “She stood in a low doorway leading off to another part of the house, with one hand folded tensely over the other at the level of her waist. She was tall - she had to stoop a little in the doorway - and markedly slender, and her skin was pinkly pale, the color of skimmed milk into which had been mixed a single drop of blood. Her face was like that of a Madonna by one of the lesser Old Masters, with dark eyes and a long sharp nose with a little bump at the tip. She wore a beige cardigan and a calf-length gray skirt that hung a little crookedly on her hips, which were no broader than a boy’s.”
And there’s humor. Here’s the estate owner: “He was of middle height, and would have been taller if he hadn't been markedly bowlegged - the result, perhaps, Strafford thought sardonically, of all that riding to hounds - and he walked with a curious gait, at once rolling and rickety, like an orangutan that had something wrong with its knees.”
Great writing and a good story, worth a ‘5.’
This is the middle novel in the series of three Detective Straffords. The first was The Secret Guests, and the third, which I also reviewed, is April in Spain.
Top photo of an Irish manor house, Cahernane House in Killarney, County Kerry from infiniteireland.com
An Irish Village on youtube.com
The author (b. 1945) from theguardian.com
[Edited 10/28/23]
October 1, 2020
I really enjoyed the first half of this book. Of course Banville writes beautifully and really knows his Irish home and its history.
Detective Strafford is an interesting and sympathetic main character and we are plunged straight into the action with the rather nasty murder of a Catholic priest, found in the library of an historic mansion. Things become a little bizarre as all of the family members in the house seem slightly mad in one way or another.
So the build up was good but about half way through it seemed Strafford began to go around in circles, especially regarding the female characters involved. What was he thinking? The murderer was pretty obvious although Banville introduces an interesting possibility in the epilogue which leaves the reader with more to think about.
A good read but not an outstanding one.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the opportunity to read and review this book
Detective Strafford is an interesting and sympathetic main character and we are plunged straight into the action with the rather nasty murder of a Catholic priest, found in the library of an historic mansion. Things become a little bizarre as all of the family members in the house seem slightly mad in one way or another.
So the build up was good but about half way through it seemed Strafford began to go around in circles, especially regarding the female characters involved. What was he thinking? The murderer was pretty obvious although Banville introduces an interesting possibility in the epilogue which leaves the reader with more to think about.
A good read but not an outstanding one.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the opportunity to read and review this book
August 29, 2020
The winter of 1957 is a harsh one especially around Christmas time which makes for a chillingly atmospheric setting for the murder of a priest. DI St John Strafford is summoned to Ballyglass House, the Wexford home of Colonel Osborne where Father Tom Lawless has been found murdered in the library. However, this is no Agatha Christie style mystery but rather a snapshot of a community in Ireland at this time.
The snow is a very important part of the storytelling as it blankets and covers up all and is a metaphor for the ensuing attempt at a cover up by both the community and the all powerful Catholic Church. At many a turn Strafford faces silence or as near as. I like how the author reflects the well documented historic situation and so there are no great surprises here especially with the priests background and death but it is well depicted. I like the character of Strafford who is enigmatic, incisive and quietly determined. He is very unusual too in that he is a Protestant in an overwhelming Catholic Garda. All the characters are colourful and at times it feels very theatrical which is a good counterpoint or the brutality of the murder. I especially like Lettie Osborne who is very clever and funny and the dialogue when she’s around is whip-smart I really like the way the book is written, at times it all feels a bit mad although you appreciate this is a deflection for Strafford’s benefit. The Osborne household is very intriguing from the hunting, shooting and fishing Colonel to the cook who can’t. The Archbishop of Ireland is a very smooth and powerful operator who is determined that the murder will be his version of truth rather than the actual truth.
My only negative is the point of view of Father Tom Lawless which appears towards the end which feels very contrived and I don’t feel it adds anything to the story.
Overall, this is a very atmospheric and interesting read. There are no huge shocks in the plot as the focus in on characterisation and depicting an era which John Banville does really well in this enjoyable book.
With thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber for the ARC.
The snow is a very important part of the storytelling as it blankets and covers up all and is a metaphor for the ensuing attempt at a cover up by both the community and the all powerful Catholic Church. At many a turn Strafford faces silence or as near as. I like how the author reflects the well documented historic situation and so there are no great surprises here especially with the priests background and death but it is well depicted. I like the character of Strafford who is enigmatic, incisive and quietly determined. He is very unusual too in that he is a Protestant in an overwhelming Catholic Garda. All the characters are colourful and at times it feels very theatrical which is a good counterpoint or the brutality of the murder. I especially like Lettie Osborne who is very clever and funny and the dialogue when she’s around is whip-smart I really like the way the book is written, at times it all feels a bit mad although you appreciate this is a deflection for Strafford’s benefit. The Osborne household is very intriguing from the hunting, shooting and fishing Colonel to the cook who can’t. The Archbishop of Ireland is a very smooth and powerful operator who is determined that the murder will be his version of truth rather than the actual truth.
My only negative is the point of view of Father Tom Lawless which appears towards the end which feels very contrived and I don’t feel it adds anything to the story.
Overall, this is a very atmospheric and interesting read. There are no huge shocks in the plot as the focus in on characterisation and depicting an era which John Banville does really well in this enjoyable book.
With thanks to NetGalley and Faber and Faber for the ARC.
November 9, 2020
3.5. The journey was so much fun, the destination cliche with a gooseberry on top, meaning a twist that felt too deliberate and didn’t make much of a difference in the end.
Banville is a good writer - I want to read him again. He’s funny, he immerses you in a time and place, and his characters are wonderfully eccentric.
The story is anti-Catholic-Church outside Dublin in 1957, while poking fun at Irish Protestants. It’s a murder mystery, that for the first half feels like an escape. Then comes a flashback to 1947, from the victim’s POV, and suddenly the violence feels horrifically real, yet the story feels cheapened. 4-stars until then
Thank you to Hanover Square Press and Barnes & Noble for the ARC.
Banville is a good writer - I want to read him again. He’s funny, he immerses you in a time and place, and his characters are wonderfully eccentric.
The story is anti-Catholic-Church outside Dublin in 1957, while poking fun at Irish Protestants. It’s a murder mystery, that for the first half feels like an escape. Then comes a flashback to 1947, from the victim’s POV, and suddenly the violence feels horrifically real, yet the story feels cheapened. 4-stars until then
Thank you to Hanover Square Press and Barnes & Noble for the ARC.
October 28, 2020
SNOW is the first book by John Banville I have read. An old-fashioned type of mystery and crime novel, that I unfortunately did not find interesting. The main character, a Detective Inspector, was unlikable. His “stiff upper lip” personality was one I could not enjoy. Nor was I a fan of any of the other characters.
Although disappointed, I do look forward to reading some of Banville’s literary fiction.
Many thanks to the publisher Faber & Faber LTD And NetGalley for the ARC of SNOW by John Banville in exchange for an honest review.
3 out of 5 stars
Although disappointed, I do look forward to reading some of Banville’s literary fiction.
Many thanks to the publisher Faber & Faber LTD And NetGalley for the ARC of SNOW by John Banville in exchange for an honest review.
3 out of 5 stars
December 6, 2020
Snow by John Banville is a murder mystery and police procedural which takes place in County Wexford, Ireland. The year is 1957 and Detective Inspector St. John Strafford has been tasked with investigating the apparent murder of a priest, at Ballyglass House, ancestral home of the Osborne family. A snow storm is raging, the family appears unable to offer precise help in the matter and the DI’s detective has gone missing. As intriguing as this mystery is, what shines here is the quality of the prose. It is a pure pleasure to spend time immersed in this book. Banville is the 2005 Booker Prize winner for his novel The Sea: enough said. I highly recommend Snow to all mystery readers and every other reader. Thank you to Hanover Square Press, NetGalley and the author for the e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.
December 5, 2020
It had been ages since I last read a detective novel and I rediscovered the genre with one of my favorite writers ever, versatile Banville. I felt at home with his familiar narrative; paused, suspenseful and refined, so reminiscent of his anti-hero’s latest books which I venerate.
This time, the reader walks beside a taciturn but young inspector in a misty Irish village where a disturbing murder has taken place, a Catholic priest has appeared severely mutilated in one of the great manors of the area. The aristocratic family was there the night of the murder and they seem to be performing a part in a twisted play when the inspector starts questioning each one of them.
As it is to be expected in this kind of novels, every character in scene appears to have reasons to have killed the Father and the reader is swirled around aimlessly but not annoyingly as one feels always congenial in Banville’s expert hands.
It is Christmas in this quiet village and the dense fog soaks its days and nights along with the mood of the reader, who witnesses an almost imperceptible change of tone in Banville’s narration whenever snow is brought up. Such cold in some people’s hearts. White snowflakes, white landscape, white lies. Who is the liar here?
I did enjoy the bashful air of Banville’s young inspector. Also, the equally sexy and menacing presence of the femme fatales who hover around him, wanting to be burnt like moths to a scorching light. The story is built in the classic way with plenty of elegant pauses that say way more than unnecessary words. Cadence is one of Banville’s strong points and it might be the best of this book.
My only reservation is the lack of element of surprise. I wasn’t able to keep at bay my growing disappointment when I turned the last page and realized there wasn’t any shocking turn of events. I had actually spotted the murderer halfway through the novel and was waiting for the revelatory detail that would turn the story upside down for me. It never arrived.
Still, this was fun to read. Easy, stylish and perfect for this time of the year.
Banville is Banville and he is always a pleasure to read, with no exception.
“I was given a free ARC of this novel by a published via NetGalley in exchange of an honest review.”
This time, the reader walks beside a taciturn but young inspector in a misty Irish village where a disturbing murder has taken place, a Catholic priest has appeared severely mutilated in one of the great manors of the area. The aristocratic family was there the night of the murder and they seem to be performing a part in a twisted play when the inspector starts questioning each one of them.
As it is to be expected in this kind of novels, every character in scene appears to have reasons to have killed the Father and the reader is swirled around aimlessly but not annoyingly as one feels always congenial in Banville’s expert hands.
It is Christmas in this quiet village and the dense fog soaks its days and nights along with the mood of the reader, who witnesses an almost imperceptible change of tone in Banville’s narration whenever snow is brought up. Such cold in some people’s hearts. White snowflakes, white landscape, white lies. Who is the liar here?
I did enjoy the bashful air of Banville’s young inspector. Also, the equally sexy and menacing presence of the femme fatales who hover around him, wanting to be burnt like moths to a scorching light. The story is built in the classic way with plenty of elegant pauses that say way more than unnecessary words. Cadence is one of Banville’s strong points and it might be the best of this book.
My only reservation is the lack of element of surprise. I wasn’t able to keep at bay my growing disappointment when I turned the last page and realized there wasn’t any shocking turn of events. I had actually spotted the murderer halfway through the novel and was waiting for the revelatory detail that would turn the story upside down for me. It never arrived.
Still, this was fun to read. Easy, stylish and perfect for this time of the year.
Banville is Banville and he is always a pleasure to read, with no exception.
“I was given a free ARC of this novel by a published via NetGalley in exchange of an honest review.”
October 17, 2020
John Banville’s new novel, “Snow” has received varying critiques. Some found the story flat and not up to Banville’s standards. I chose to listen to the audible production of the story, narrated by John Lee, because it’s supposed to be an Agatha Christie-like story. I thought the addition of a good narrator, who uses his voice to add nuance and emphasis, could enhance the story, thus provide the intended narrative. I’m happy I did.
The way John Lee narrated the story, with his emphasis of phrases and words, made me chuckle. There’s a bit about “seeing a man about a horse.” And then there’s much about the said horse. Word play and double entendre run amuck. For me, it added to the story.
The story takes place in 1957 Ireland, when the Catholic Church runs the country. A Catholic priest is found dead, in the library in an old stately manor. Detective St. John Strafford is sent to investigate. Strafford finds the murder and set-up similar to an Agatha Christi novel, just short of the candlestick and Colonel Mustard. Adding intrigue, the priest’s body has been sexually mutilated.
Banville writes the plot within the social context of religion in Ireland at that time. The Archbishop wants the murder covered up as an accident and makes it clear to Strafford what will happen to his career if he crosses the Archbishop. And Father Tom, the victim, has a sordid past, which was common in Ireland at the time. There is a reform school for wayward teenage boys. Father Tom had “his favorites”, boys who he counselled in private. Make no mistake, Banville wants the reader to know and remember the atrocities of the Church. He also writes of the underlying conflict of the Catholics and the protestants at the time. To me, this is a part mystery part social study of Ireland in the mid 1950’s.
I enjoyed listening to John Lee’s performance. It was a fun romp within a tragic story. The characters are richly developed. Father Tom is the most despicable, well, maybe the Archbishop competes. I’m a Banville fan, and I remain a Banville fan.
The way John Lee narrated the story, with his emphasis of phrases and words, made me chuckle. There’s a bit about “seeing a man about a horse.” And then there’s much about the said horse. Word play and double entendre run amuck. For me, it added to the story.
The story takes place in 1957 Ireland, when the Catholic Church runs the country. A Catholic priest is found dead, in the library in an old stately manor. Detective St. John Strafford is sent to investigate. Strafford finds the murder and set-up similar to an Agatha Christi novel, just short of the candlestick and Colonel Mustard. Adding intrigue, the priest’s body has been sexually mutilated.
Banville writes the plot within the social context of religion in Ireland at that time. The Archbishop wants the murder covered up as an accident and makes it clear to Strafford what will happen to his career if he crosses the Archbishop. And Father Tom, the victim, has a sordid past, which was common in Ireland at the time. There is a reform school for wayward teenage boys. Father Tom had “his favorites”, boys who he counselled in private. Make no mistake, Banville wants the reader to know and remember the atrocities of the Church. He also writes of the underlying conflict of the Catholics and the protestants at the time. To me, this is a part mystery part social study of Ireland in the mid 1950’s.
I enjoyed listening to John Lee’s performance. It was a fun romp within a tragic story. The characters are richly developed. Father Tom is the most despicable, well, maybe the Archbishop competes. I’m a Banville fan, and I remain a Banville fan.
November 5, 2020
Holy shit no. I refuse to read any further, giving up at 80%. It's been mostly an interesting detective story but a certain characters confessions are so profane and disgusting I cannot keep reading and have to rate this 1 star.
August 25, 2020
3.5 Banville is another versatile author who writes in many different genres. In Snow, the atmosphere is front and center. It is cold, the ground covered in the white stuff which often hinders the investigation. It permeates the air, permeates everything and makes it very difficult for Inspector Strafford. It is 1954 in Ireland, County Wexford, and the Catholic Church rules with an iron fist. Strafford, a Protestant, is called to the manor house of Colonel Osborne, to investigate the murder of a Catholic Priest, found stabbed and multilated in the house library.
The body has been tidied up, making his investigation more difficult. The members of the family each seem to be acting a part, a part that seems to change daily. Nothing is quite as it seems.
A more predictable outing for Banville, but despite this his prose, his characterizations and the atmosphere are all outstanding. There are secrets, hidden pasts and a continuing drama. There are limited suspects in the house and on the grounds, so who did the actual deed? An intricate police procedural follows and as predictable as I found the book, I thought the ending fitting and well done. Maybe not one of his best, but Banville for me is always worth reading.
Warning: sexual situations.
ARC from Edelweiss.
The body has been tidied up, making his investigation more difficult. The members of the family each seem to be acting a part, a part that seems to change daily. Nothing is quite as it seems.
A more predictable outing for Banville, but despite this his prose, his characterizations and the atmosphere are all outstanding. There are secrets, hidden pasts and a continuing drama. There are limited suspects in the house and on the grounds, so who did the actual deed? An intricate police procedural follows and as predictable as I found the book, I thought the ending fitting and well done. Maybe not one of his best, but Banville for me is always worth reading.
Warning: sexual situations.
ARC from Edelweiss.
August 25, 2020
While I had so many other books to catch up with, I couldn't stop myself from requesting this latest novel from John Banville, although it's a police procedural/thriller.
Snow will probably disappoint the hardcore thriller/crime readers. I'm not one of those. I'm more interested in characterisations, atmosphere and the overall writing style - which, as I've come to expect from John Banville, were top notch. It's a bonus if I don't find any gaping plot holes - there were none.
It's 1957, Ireland. Detective Inspector St. John Strafford is sent to a small village in County Wexford to investigate the gruesome murder of a Catholic priest. He was the guest of a retired protestant colonel who lived in a big, old mansion. St John a was an interesting main character, not your stereotypical smoker, drink-to-oblivion kind of detective.
Banville affords us a glimpse of the era - the divisions between the Catholics and the Protestants that penetrated every aspect of life and the overwhelming influence of the Catholic church in all aspects of life.
The novel has a good, steady pace, in keeping with the times, the era, and the season. I could easily picture the characters and the locations, I could feel the cold and the gloom.
The only thing that I found jarring was a small chapter from the deceased priest's point of view, I thought it was random and unnecessary, and I say that as someone who enjoys hearing from unreliable characters. Other than that, this was excellent, as you'd expect from such a consummate talented writer.
Many thanks to Faber and Faber for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
Snow will probably disappoint the hardcore thriller/crime readers. I'm not one of those. I'm more interested in characterisations, atmosphere and the overall writing style - which, as I've come to expect from John Banville, were top notch. It's a bonus if I don't find any gaping plot holes - there were none.
It's 1957, Ireland. Detective Inspector St. John Strafford is sent to a small village in County Wexford to investigate the gruesome murder of a Catholic priest. He was the guest of a retired protestant colonel who lived in a big, old mansion. St John a was an interesting main character, not your stereotypical smoker, drink-to-oblivion kind of detective.
Banville affords us a glimpse of the era - the divisions between the Catholics and the Protestants that penetrated every aspect of life and the overwhelming influence of the Catholic church in all aspects of life.
The novel has a good, steady pace, in keeping with the times, the era, and the season. I could easily picture the characters and the locations, I could feel the cold and the gloom.
The only thing that I found jarring was a small chapter from the deceased priest's point of view, I thought it was random and unnecessary, and I say that as someone who enjoys hearing from unreliable characters. Other than that, this was excellent, as you'd expect from such a consummate talented writer.
Many thanks to Faber and Faber for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
October 12, 2020
In every institution there’s an unofficial hierarchy. It’s natural – even the choirs of angels are ranked in strict order, from your poor old workaday guardian angel at the bottom, all the way up to the six-winged seraphim, the burning ones, who serve the Lord God directly.
I confess to having a love/hate relationship with John Banville, driven largely by exasperation. I have only read two of his books before, so apologise in advance to well-versed fans of his oeuvre. For me, his 2005 Booker winner The Sea was stilted and just too precious. The Infinities (2009) was slightly better, but did not exploit the full potential of its grand themes. Instead, it once again focused on style at the expense of substance.
I had no idea that Banville has been writing crime fiction under the pen name of Benjamin Black since 2006. In an interview with the TLS, he says that Black is a “competent craftsman” who writes much faster than Banville, the “Booker Prize-winning artist”. The latter will agonise over a single word, as if he were a disciple of Flaubert (Is that why The Sea reads so agonisingly slowly?) What is also a mystery is whether Snow is a Banville or a Black novel. In fact, it reads like a hybrid between the high-level and somewhat arch literary styling of the former and what one presumes is the more colloquial tone and approach of the latter.
As for why Snow has been released under Banville’s own name, the TLS notes (rather sniffily), that “it isn’t really crime fiction; it is a beautifully written, atmospheric, literary novel that begins with a murder.” Genre writers, especially crime, romance, SF and horror, have long been held in disdain by the purveyors of literary fiction, it seems.
Imagine to my surprise then that Snow is not only a crime novel to boot, but a detective potboiler of the kind that Agatha Christie churned out in her sleep. However, we soon realise we are not in Christie territory anymore:
“Jesus Christ, will you look at this place?” he wheezed. “Next thing Poirot himself will appear on the scene.”
And:
“It’s a library,” he muttered incredulously to Hendricks. “It’s an actual fucking library, and there’s a body in it!”
Yes, the plot revolves around that much-loved trope of classic crime fiction, a body in the library. In this instance, it is a Catholic priest. Who happens to have been castrated. The first-person point of view of the priest opens the novel as he is surprised by the murderer, and then equally surprised at his own gristly demise. He appears again in a much later interlude that only serves to confirm the reader’s suspicions about the crime and its true motive, but which is a bravura piece of writing nevertheless in a book that is passionately literate. Hence a typical Banville novel ... but unlike anything he has written before under his own name, of course.
Suffice it to say that the murder mystery itself is given short shrift by the author and the reader (though there is a delicious sting in the last few pages that made me gasp). What is of chief enjoyment here is Banville’s wonderful characterisation of his motley cast of characters, from the stiff-upper-lipped Colonel Osborne, whose library the dead priest ends up in (and whose first wife died in mysterious circumstances), to the husband, wife and dog team that run the inn where our detective hero stays for the duration of the investigation.
I practically inhaled Snow over a couple of days’ frenzied reading. Not only did it keep me enthralled, but it is deeply funny and humane at the same time. Banville’s depiction of the Irish countryside and the weather is equally mesmerising, with the titular snow ever-present in the form of a blizzard that grows in intensity as the story unfolds. Yes, there are some of Banville’s beloved Greek allusions, especially the concept of ‘agape’, “the love of God for man and of man for God”.
But Banville’s touch here is infinitely lighter than the heavy-handed The Sea. His depiction of Ireland at the height of the Protestant/Catholic divide is deeply nuanced, yet acutely aware of the absurdity inherent in such an artificial barrier, which gave rise to so much unnecessary tragedy. This sense of playfulness mixed with melancholy, and Banville’s own keen affection for his characters (even the dead priest), is what makes this novel such a living, breathing wonder.
I confess to having a love/hate relationship with John Banville, driven largely by exasperation. I have only read two of his books before, so apologise in advance to well-versed fans of his oeuvre. For me, his 2005 Booker winner The Sea was stilted and just too precious. The Infinities (2009) was slightly better, but did not exploit the full potential of its grand themes. Instead, it once again focused on style at the expense of substance.
I had no idea that Banville has been writing crime fiction under the pen name of Benjamin Black since 2006. In an interview with the TLS, he says that Black is a “competent craftsman” who writes much faster than Banville, the “Booker Prize-winning artist”. The latter will agonise over a single word, as if he were a disciple of Flaubert (Is that why The Sea reads so agonisingly slowly?) What is also a mystery is whether Snow is a Banville or a Black novel. In fact, it reads like a hybrid between the high-level and somewhat arch literary styling of the former and what one presumes is the more colloquial tone and approach of the latter.
As for why Snow has been released under Banville’s own name, the TLS notes (rather sniffily), that “it isn’t really crime fiction; it is a beautifully written, atmospheric, literary novel that begins with a murder.” Genre writers, especially crime, romance, SF and horror, have long been held in disdain by the purveyors of literary fiction, it seems.
Imagine to my surprise then that Snow is not only a crime novel to boot, but a detective potboiler of the kind that Agatha Christie churned out in her sleep. However, we soon realise we are not in Christie territory anymore:
“Jesus Christ, will you look at this place?” he wheezed. “Next thing Poirot himself will appear on the scene.”
And:
“It’s a library,” he muttered incredulously to Hendricks. “It’s an actual fucking library, and there’s a body in it!”
Yes, the plot revolves around that much-loved trope of classic crime fiction, a body in the library. In this instance, it is a Catholic priest. Who happens to have been castrated. The first-person point of view of the priest opens the novel as he is surprised by the murderer, and then equally surprised at his own gristly demise. He appears again in a much later interlude that only serves to confirm the reader’s suspicions about the crime and its true motive, but which is a bravura piece of writing nevertheless in a book that is passionately literate. Hence a typical Banville novel ... but unlike anything he has written before under his own name, of course.
Suffice it to say that the murder mystery itself is given short shrift by the author and the reader (though there is a delicious sting in the last few pages that made me gasp). What is of chief enjoyment here is Banville’s wonderful characterisation of his motley cast of characters, from the stiff-upper-lipped Colonel Osborne, whose library the dead priest ends up in (and whose first wife died in mysterious circumstances), to the husband, wife and dog team that run the inn where our detective hero stays for the duration of the investigation.
I practically inhaled Snow over a couple of days’ frenzied reading. Not only did it keep me enthralled, but it is deeply funny and humane at the same time. Banville’s depiction of the Irish countryside and the weather is equally mesmerising, with the titular snow ever-present in the form of a blizzard that grows in intensity as the story unfolds. Yes, there are some of Banville’s beloved Greek allusions, especially the concept of ‘agape’, “the love of God for man and of man for God”.
But Banville’s touch here is infinitely lighter than the heavy-handed The Sea. His depiction of Ireland at the height of the Protestant/Catholic divide is deeply nuanced, yet acutely aware of the absurdity inherent in such an artificial barrier, which gave rise to so much unnecessary tragedy. This sense of playfulness mixed with melancholy, and Banville’s own keen affection for his characters (even the dead priest), is what makes this novel such a living, breathing wonder.
July 12, 2018
He de reconocer que empecé a leer este libro por la portada y el título; desde un punto de vista, despertaba mi curiosidad. Y no me arrepiento de haberlo hecho. Es verdad que, a estas alturas en la que se ha dicho de todo, el argumento no llega a sorprender y es previsible, pero eso no quita de que sea una lectura rápida y, ¿por qué, no? agradable como novela de verano. Es más, en cierto sentido, me ha recordado a las novelas de Agatha Christie...
March 7, 2021
This was an atmospheric mystery novel that is set in Ireland in the winter of 1957. The characters are well-drawn and believable. It involves the religious and class divisions that permeated the society at the time. The story centres around the powerful Catholic hierarchy's cover-up when their priests were discovered guilty of abuse, brutal beatings, and pedophilia. These priests' acts were hidden from the public, and they were frequently moved to another parish where their misdeeds continued. As in other countries, the plight of orphans and delinquents sent to Catholic-run institutions was often harsh and left a lifetime of psychological wounds. The story takes place in the days around Christmas with the snow, frost and chill vividly described in rich prose.
Detective Saint- John Strafford, a Protestant, is sent to an old, cold and decrepit manor to investigate the murder and sexual mutilation of Father Tom Lawless. Colonel Osborne owns the run-down manor. His aristocratic family is Protestant, but the popular priest stabled his horse on the property and was a frequent visitor before his death. Strafford escaped a similar high-class background by becoming a policeman but still feels lonely and isolated within a mainly Catholic police force.
The powerful and influential Archbishop McQuaid has ordered the grisly details of the murder suppressed, and the press refers to his death as an accident. Strafford is determined to find the killer and bring the culprit to justice despite obstacles placed in his path. It seems certain that there was never an outside intruder and the killer must be a member of the Osborne family or a person who was knowingly admitted late at night. Osborne's younger wife is forgetful, sickly, and probably in a drugged state. His two children are older teenagers. A son is heading to University with a promising career in his future and a rebellious, flirty daughter. Strafford abhors a cover-up by the Church, and he suspects the entire family to be unreliable and of keeping secrets. His role as the lead detective becomes more tenuous when his assistant, Sergeant Ambrose Jenkins, disappears.
Part of the story is told from the dead priest's perspective and explains some of the forces that made him, leading to his end.
This was a well-constructed murder mystery set in social upheaval, suspicion, religious and cultural mistrust, and intriguing, realistic characters.
Detective Saint- John Strafford, a Protestant, is sent to an old, cold and decrepit manor to investigate the murder and sexual mutilation of Father Tom Lawless. Colonel Osborne owns the run-down manor. His aristocratic family is Protestant, but the popular priest stabled his horse on the property and was a frequent visitor before his death. Strafford escaped a similar high-class background by becoming a policeman but still feels lonely and isolated within a mainly Catholic police force.
The powerful and influential Archbishop McQuaid has ordered the grisly details of the murder suppressed, and the press refers to his death as an accident. Strafford is determined to find the killer and bring the culprit to justice despite obstacles placed in his path. It seems certain that there was never an outside intruder and the killer must be a member of the Osborne family or a person who was knowingly admitted late at night. Osborne's younger wife is forgetful, sickly, and probably in a drugged state. His two children are older teenagers. A son is heading to University with a promising career in his future and a rebellious, flirty daughter. Strafford abhors a cover-up by the Church, and he suspects the entire family to be unreliable and of keeping secrets. His role as the lead detective becomes more tenuous when his assistant, Sergeant Ambrose Jenkins, disappears.
Part of the story is told from the dead priest's perspective and explains some of the forces that made him, leading to his end.
This was a well-constructed murder mystery set in social upheaval, suspicion, religious and cultural mistrust, and intriguing, realistic characters.
Read
December 19, 2020For me, the most interesting, indeed surprising thing about this book was that John Banville put his own name to it and not the pseudonym Benjamin Black which he's used in the past for his noir novels. I enjoyed those books initially but I eventually grew tired of the repetition of themes so I wouldn't have picked this up if I'd known it was more of the same. Admittedly, he's created a new and very different detective figure in this one, but the two principal characters from his noir series pop up here again so it's definitely out of the same stable. In any case the themes are identical: 1950s Ireland, and in particular the way society was dominated by the Catholic Church. In this story he focuses on clerical child abuse, ripping into it fiercely and presenting it as if viewed through his trademark whiskey glass. The main difference between this book and the Black series, apart from the author's name on the cover is that the story is not told from the point of view of a member of the majority Catholic population but through the eyes of one of the small minority of Protestants in the country at that time. There's also the fact that although whiskey glasses are mentioned a lot, the main character doesn't actually enjoy drinking it.
October 9, 2021
Awful. So lazily predictable,so disgustingly clichéd.It´s been done before, and much, much better,even though the issues are disturbing.
20 pages in, you think you know the why and probably the who, but faintly hope this author will prove you wrong. Well,he doesn´t.An absolute waste of time.
20 pages in, you think you know the why and probably the who, but faintly hope this author will prove you wrong. Well,he doesn´t.An absolute waste of time.
September 16, 2021
fulfilling my 2021 goal to read one book each month by an author i have never read despite owning more than one of their books.
because, although i could have sworn i had, i have never read john banville...
and once i read this, i will be better-equipped to appreciate the copy of April in Spain that i won. wheeeee!
read/review TK.
because, although i could have sworn i had, i have never read john banville...
and once i read this, i will be better-equipped to appreciate the copy of April in Spain that i won. wheeeee!
read/review TK.
March 8, 2022
This brilliant book is my first encounter with this Irish author and it certainly won't be the last.
Storytelling is of an excellent quality, all done with a poetic prose, the dialogue between characters is very believable and absolute humanlike, while the atmosphere of Ireland in the 1950s is wonderfully pictured by the author, with all its hardship and misdemeanour.
Its a wonderful literary and historical Irish mystery, that is set in the Winter of 1957, with a self-confessing flashback by one of the main characters in 1947, with at the end set in 1967 a surprising revelation from the real perpetrator about the murder of Father Tom, and with the title "Snow" acting as metaphor for concealing and revealing certain actions.
The red thread, or common theme if you like, in this superb mystery is the child abuse, young girls and in this instance young boys, by clergymen, without real consideration the psychological effect this will have on these children, and all this abuse somehow condoned and covered up by the Irish Catholic Church, including at this time of history by Archbishop Dr John Charles McQuaid.
DI St John Strafford is called from Dublin, and arrives at Ballyglass House, county Wexford, to find the murdered corpse of the Catholic priest, Father Tom, and this same corpse is lying dead in the house of the Protestant aristocratic Osbourne family.
While investigating this case DI Strafford, assisted by DS Ambrose Jenkins, and much later on also by Wexford Garda Sergeant Radford, they will meet with many obstructions as to the why and how of this particular murder, and not only from the people at Ballyglass House and its close surroundings, but also from the powerful Archbishop McQuaid.
What is to follow is an intriguing and revealing Irish crime mystery, in which child abuse within the Irish Catholic Church will play a very important and sinister part, and in this environment the unsure but very willing DI Strafford must somehow find the killer of Father Tom, but in the meantime several other deaths will occur to boys/young men mainly due to shame of having been abused and this being concealed, while not getting the necessary help that they really need from the Catholic Church and Archbishop McQuaid, while also DS Jenkins will lose his life in their search for the revealing truth.
Highly recommended, for this is a magnificent Irish crime mystery with a clear and sound message, and that's why I like to call this great book: "A Marvellous Revealing Irish Crime Mystery"!
Storytelling is of an excellent quality, all done with a poetic prose, the dialogue between characters is very believable and absolute humanlike, while the atmosphere of Ireland in the 1950s is wonderfully pictured by the author, with all its hardship and misdemeanour.
Its a wonderful literary and historical Irish mystery, that is set in the Winter of 1957, with a self-confessing flashback by one of the main characters in 1947, with at the end set in 1967 a surprising revelation from the real perpetrator about the murder of Father Tom, and with the title "Snow" acting as metaphor for concealing and revealing certain actions.
The red thread, or common theme if you like, in this superb mystery is the child abuse, young girls and in this instance young boys, by clergymen, without real consideration the psychological effect this will have on these children, and all this abuse somehow condoned and covered up by the Irish Catholic Church, including at this time of history by Archbishop Dr John Charles McQuaid.
DI St John Strafford is called from Dublin, and arrives at Ballyglass House, county Wexford, to find the murdered corpse of the Catholic priest, Father Tom, and this same corpse is lying dead in the house of the Protestant aristocratic Osbourne family.
While investigating this case DI Strafford, assisted by DS Ambrose Jenkins, and much later on also by Wexford Garda Sergeant Radford, they will meet with many obstructions as to the why and how of this particular murder, and not only from the people at Ballyglass House and its close surroundings, but also from the powerful Archbishop McQuaid.
What is to follow is an intriguing and revealing Irish crime mystery, in which child abuse within the Irish Catholic Church will play a very important and sinister part, and in this environment the unsure but very willing DI Strafford must somehow find the killer of Father Tom, but in the meantime several other deaths will occur to boys/young men mainly due to shame of having been abused and this being concealed, while not getting the necessary help that they really need from the Catholic Church and Archbishop McQuaid, while also DS Jenkins will lose his life in their search for the revealing truth.
Highly recommended, for this is a magnificent Irish crime mystery with a clear and sound message, and that's why I like to call this great book: "A Marvellous Revealing Irish Crime Mystery"!
January 29, 2021
‘Jesus Christ, will you look at this place?’ he wheezed. ‘Next thing Poirot himself will appear on the scene.’ He pronounced it Pworrott.
Instead of the famous Belgian moustache we are offered here the introspective detective Inspector St. John Strafford, with an ‘r’. He is sent down from Dublin a few days short of the Christmas of 1957 to deal with a delicate situation: the body of a priest has been found dead in the library of a big country manor. Banville is deliberately setting up the scene, right from the opening phrase [ ‘The body is in the library,’ Colonel Osborne said. ‘Come this way.’ ] to resemble as close as possible the canons of the genre established by Agatha Christie and her peers. Strafford is struck right from the beginning of his investigation by the theatrical vibe of every person he meets: even if the butler is clearly absent in the impoverished house, the rest of the Osbornes and their retainers all seem to be playing up to their assigned roles : the gruff, short tempered Colonel, his emotionally unstable wife, the handsome and disdainful son, the rebellious and smart-aleck daughter [ Will you be calling us all together at dinner time to explain the plot and reveal the killer’s name? ] , the hearty cook, the huge red-headed stable boy, the oily family doctor, etc.
How could it possibly have come about that a Catholic priest, ‘a friend of the house’, should be lying here dead in his own blood, in Ballyglass House, hereditary seat of the Osbornes, of the ancient barony of Scarawalsh, in the county of Wexford? What, indeed, would the neighbours say?
The moody, introverted Strafford keeps his mouth shut and lets the play unfold, gazing out at the purity of snow in the fields outside and contrasting it with the slime he keeps uncovering inside the house. The goal of the exercise becomes clear once the pressure to swap everything under the rug begins to be applied from up high: Banville wants to replace the ‘cozy’ part of the mystery with the ‘sleazy’ reality of a whole society ready to deceive itself.
It has snowed continuously for two days, and this morning everything appeared to stand in hushed amazement before the spectacle of such expanses of unbroken whiteness on all sides. People said it was unheard of, that they had never known weather like it, that it was the worst winter in living memory. But they said that every year when it snowed, and also in years when it didn’t snow.
Georges Simenon might have written a more authentic ‘roman dur’ in this manner, but John Banville is not striking far from this high mark in the genre. His prose and is character sketches are elegant and persuasive. Somehow, the author has found a way to balance the analytical introspective style of his non-genre novels with the fast-pace and the trick reveals of the thriller trade. St. John Strafford is spending more time gazing at his navel and musing about his own emotional fragility than he is looking for clues to the murder of Father Tom, yet somehow his problems as a rare case of crossing the religious divide in the country are relevant to the investigation.
A Protestant and a Garda officer – it even sounded wrong.
To a seasoned crime fiction reader and to people familiar with the local issues generated by an all-powerful religious apparatus, the nature of the crime and the identity of the main suspects will not probably be a surprise. The book is set in 1957, well in advance of the more liberal approach taken by the younger generations in Ireland, yet the problems with censure and the cover-up of painful truths about decades of abuses are still relevant to the world we live in .
But priests just didn’t get murdered in this country, and certainly not in places like Ballyglass House. The Catholic Church – the powers that be, in other words – would shoulder its way in and take over. There would be a cover-up, some plausible lie would be peddled to the public. The only question was how deeply the facts could be buried.[...]
If His Grace Doctor Mc-Quaid said Father Lawless had stabbed himself in the neck by accident and thereafter had cut off his own genitals, then that’s what the public at large would be permitted to know.
I hope I haven’t revealed too much of the salient points of the mystery. I already knew John Banville can write excellent prose, and I found the slower pace of this novel, so rich in atmosphere and subtext, to be appropriate and rewarding. I’m not sure if he wrote any other St. John Strafford books, but if there are, I am interested in reading them.
Everything to him had the aspect of a cipher. Life was a mundane mystery, the clues to the solving of which were strewn all about, concealed or, far more fascinatingly, hidden in plain sight, for all to see but for him alone to recognise.
September 15, 2022
this book literally should never been allowed to be publsihed - it disgusts me. could not even fucking finish this stupid thing
this is a perfect example of why i hate reading books by men - every single female character description or action feels totally alienating. These women are not people. At one point an entirely grown woman is quite literally described as a child! She's overly emotional and cries in every scene for absolutely no reason: dont get me wrong, emotions are good and fine and a cornerstone theme to literally everything from painting to books but there's no drive to it - she's emotional to the point where that is the point, the emotions go unexplored. they are not the focus, the are the background for which the male investigator must struggle around and overcome to find out what happened. Furthermore, every male character is completely rational and in the very few times a man ever displays emotion is is PIVOTAL to the plotline and gives the readers massive insight to the crime that is central to the plot.
Next up for poorly written women is the 17, yes: SEVENTEEN, year old manic pixie dream girl character (“She lived in her own mind, that was the fact of the matter.” legit wtf this is hilariously such a manic pixie cliche description the author sounds like a fucking fool I thought we as a human race chose to evolve from lines like this) that is depicted as having sexual tension with the grown man narrator (he describes her as virginal, she describes him as attractive and then takes off her underware??? for no reason - she's just a "bold girl" "cold air caressing her thighs"???????) - the dynamic between them was soooo lolita for me: she is describes as "exciting" and "beautiful in her own way" and VIRGINAL!!! ??? however we do not officially start sexualizing minors until about page 163 when we look all the way up her skirt so much can be said about Banville but not that the man doesnt have restraint! also all the women as so "small" and "delicate" (“He was twice, three times as strong as she was, he could break her wrist, or her arm” this really sums up how men and women are described in his book i think) oh my goddd i swearrrr this was so annoyingggg.
TW:// sexual assault
This book also, soooo casually its sickening, mentions that the seventeen year old was sexually assaulted when she was only a girl by one of her brother's friend's then immediately moves on and does not do anything to explore this or how it makes the young woman feel, it has no business being there and does nothing for the plot. it's clearly there for shock value and we can deem it as an archetypal example of "ultraviolence" against women in media. DISGUSTING! if elt so cold and diregarded as a woman in this scene. that's not even the end of it tho, its mentioned again right after a literal sex scene, two minors, which really hella obfuscates the defintion of consent even further and more directly (I mean honestly: when women ar forced to read violence against women in book scenes written in such a careless way, from a point of view that is clearly derrived by how men view r*pe culture its an extension of the violence we suffer - to have to be reminded how men do not take it seriously at all, do not understand the extent of suffering women endure under r*pe culture or their own continuence in real time of this violence by their normalizing tone - they become the wielders of power by making it seem casual and not that big of a deal) The following paragraph then described the male investigator walking by - by mentioning this man after a sexual assualt scene with the young girl i really felt that that lolita trope was coming to the surface - its subtle and maybe subconscious on the part of the author but this is why men shouldnt be writing for female audiences: he did not even consider 1) the triggering nature of his assault scene or the very difficult and life long emotions every woman has to deal with surrounding this type of rape culture society, even his manic pixie dream girl 2) hoe moving right from that to a grown man has certain implications!!
This all turned me off of the book, but I imaging that if I were to give it the time of day I would also find more problems with more basic things - for instance, the first POV transition happened wayyy too late in the book - the young woman begins to narrate around page 150. the time to have done this was when these characters first met each other in page like 50 or something - a POV shift this late was jarring and unexpected - it also really felt like a slight to the female character - I would have liked to hear from her when she was introduced instead of many chapters later - you have to ask yourself: is this character getting the exploration and time they deserve as an individual? because we get so many intimate moments and details w the male character - or is her perspective simply a tool being used to make his story make sense bc he wasnt smart enough to contain the story within a single perspective?
this is a perfect example of why i hate reading books by men - every single female character description or action feels totally alienating. These women are not people. At one point an entirely grown woman is quite literally described as a child! She's overly emotional and cries in every scene for absolutely no reason: dont get me wrong, emotions are good and fine and a cornerstone theme to literally everything from painting to books but there's no drive to it - she's emotional to the point where that is the point, the emotions go unexplored. they are not the focus, the are the background for which the male investigator must struggle around and overcome to find out what happened. Furthermore, every male character is completely rational and in the very few times a man ever displays emotion is is PIVOTAL to the plotline and gives the readers massive insight to the crime that is central to the plot.
Next up for poorly written women is the 17, yes: SEVENTEEN, year old manic pixie dream girl character (“She lived in her own mind, that was the fact of the matter.” legit wtf this is hilariously such a manic pixie cliche description the author sounds like a fucking fool I thought we as a human race chose to evolve from lines like this) that is depicted as having sexual tension with the grown man narrator (he describes her as virginal, she describes him as attractive and then takes off her underware??? for no reason - she's just a "bold girl" "cold air caressing her thighs"???????) - the dynamic between them was soooo lolita for me: she is describes as "exciting" and "beautiful in her own way" and VIRGINAL!!! ??? however we do not officially start sexualizing minors until about page 163 when we look all the way up her skirt so much can be said about Banville but not that the man doesnt have restraint! also all the women as so "small" and "delicate" (“He was twice, three times as strong as she was, he could break her wrist, or her arm” this really sums up how men and women are described in his book i think) oh my goddd i swearrrr this was so annoyingggg.
TW:// sexual assault
This book also, soooo casually its sickening, mentions that the seventeen year old was sexually assaulted when she was only a girl by one of her brother's friend's then immediately moves on and does not do anything to explore this or how it makes the young woman feel, it has no business being there and does nothing for the plot. it's clearly there for shock value and we can deem it as an archetypal example of "ultraviolence" against women in media. DISGUSTING! if elt so cold and diregarded as a woman in this scene. that's not even the end of it tho, its mentioned again right after a literal sex scene, two minors, which really hella obfuscates the defintion of consent even further and more directly (I mean honestly: when women ar forced to read violence against women in book scenes written in such a careless way, from a point of view that is clearly derrived by how men view r*pe culture its an extension of the violence we suffer - to have to be reminded how men do not take it seriously at all, do not understand the extent of suffering women endure under r*pe culture or their own continuence in real time of this violence by their normalizing tone - they become the wielders of power by making it seem casual and not that big of a deal) The following paragraph then described the male investigator walking by - by mentioning this man after a sexual assualt scene with the young girl i really felt that that lolita trope was coming to the surface - its subtle and maybe subconscious on the part of the author but this is why men shouldnt be writing for female audiences: he did not even consider 1) the triggering nature of his assault scene or the very difficult and life long emotions every woman has to deal with surrounding this type of rape culture society, even his manic pixie dream girl 2) hoe moving right from that to a grown man has certain implications!!
This all turned me off of the book, but I imaging that if I were to give it the time of day I would also find more problems with more basic things - for instance, the first POV transition happened wayyy too late in the book - the young woman begins to narrate around page 150. the time to have done this was when these characters first met each other in page like 50 or something - a POV shift this late was jarring and unexpected - it also really felt like a slight to the female character - I would have liked to hear from her when she was introduced instead of many chapters later - you have to ask yourself: is this character getting the exploration and time they deserve as an individual? because we get so many intimate moments and details w the male character - or is her perspective simply a tool being used to make his story make sense bc he wasnt smart enough to contain the story within a single perspective?
August 20, 2020
We’re 1957 in rural Ireland. In the mansion of protestant colonel Osborne, the body of a catholic priest is found in the library. The house friend has been stabbed and gelded. From the start, there’s pressure from the archbishop’s palace to treat the whole thing very discreetly and classify it as an accident (he fell from the stairs) and the details that must not come out, imagine the scandal and the neighbours.
It’s DI Strafford; a member of the same aristocratic minority who is dispatched from Dublin to handle the inquiry. He has the feeling as if he’s landed in a theatre play with everyone in the house an actor, dressed up to say their lines. Will he give in to the pressure from the omnipresent Catholic Church or will his quest for the truth kick against some holy shins?
With a snow storm brewing up, everybody is cooped up inside apart from Strafford’s (with an R) assistant who’s gone missing.
It starts out as a classic murder mystery. How much closer can you come than a body in the library of a remote country house amidst a snow storm? It has a very slow pace as befits the period but it doesn’t take itself too serious with several references to Agatha Christie and Poirot.
Strafford is an enigmatic figure. He’s a man who feels uncomfortable with his place and role in this life. He became a policeman to rebel against his father but asks himself now if he would have been happier if he’d become a barrister as his dad wanted. He also recently split up with his girlfriend and stands very uncomfortable in life. He thinks things through and through but doesn’t relate well to people. They make him feel awkward. He’s an outcast for the gentry but also a weird element in the police force. I couldn’t feel very much sympathy for this aristocrat despite him having a very strong moral compass. I think he’s a rather sad man. Because of his thinking he’s always on the outside looking in but not being part of what’s going on. Well, that’s how I see him, someone else might think differently.
To 21st century readers, a dead castrated priest means usually just 1 thing, and points to a very distinct motive. But here we are in 50’s Ireland where the church influences and holds power over almost every aspect of everyday life. A murdered priest just does not happen, let alone one mutilated in this manner! As an historical and social document, it paints a bleak picture of post-civil war Ireland, where the Catholic Church had its claws on politics, press, police and anything else you can think of. And how they condoned abuse and swept it under the carpet. That is when the people dared to make a complaint as most didn’t dare to speak out against a priest. Such things were common knowledge but no one would speak publicly about it. The best outcome would be that the offender was placed in another parish, where he’d go his merry way again.
I’ve always wondered how the correlation between pedophiles and priests (of any denomination) works. Do they become priests in order to get in contact with children because they’re pedos or is it the other way round and do they discover this perversion only when they’re already priests? No matter what the answer is, YOU DON’T TOUCH CHILDREN!!! And for those who say that they can’t help those feelings. Well, that’s the lamest excuse of every rapist and killer. You don’t have to act on those feelings. Seek help. So many people have feelings that they don’t act on. They know very well that what they do is out of order or they wouldn’t try covering up their crimes. I don’t want to call for vigilante justice, but the courts should be able to order compulsory castration after serving prison time.
I want to say that there are no graphic descriptions of these crimes. It’s told very tastefully with the act self, told off screen. This is in stark contrast with the minute descriptions of people, surroundings, and landscape that can be found in the rest of the book. You could almost draw (well, those with a talent for sketching can) the people when Banville describes someone’s peculiar face or the clothing they wear or put on. It’s really beautifully worded. So it certainly fits into the literary fiction box as well as being a police procedural and a murder mystery. It’s a fairly simple straightforward story with subtle layers of historical social comments that’s written in a very beautiful language.
I thank Netgalley and Faber & Faber for the free ARC of this book the provided; this is my honest and unbiased review of it.
It’s DI Strafford; a member of the same aristocratic minority who is dispatched from Dublin to handle the inquiry. He has the feeling as if he’s landed in a theatre play with everyone in the house an actor, dressed up to say their lines. Will he give in to the pressure from the omnipresent Catholic Church or will his quest for the truth kick against some holy shins?
With a snow storm brewing up, everybody is cooped up inside apart from Strafford’s (with an R) assistant who’s gone missing.
It starts out as a classic murder mystery. How much closer can you come than a body in the library of a remote country house amidst a snow storm? It has a very slow pace as befits the period but it doesn’t take itself too serious with several references to Agatha Christie and Poirot.
Strafford is an enigmatic figure. He’s a man who feels uncomfortable with his place and role in this life. He became a policeman to rebel against his father but asks himself now if he would have been happier if he’d become a barrister as his dad wanted. He also recently split up with his girlfriend and stands very uncomfortable in life. He thinks things through and through but doesn’t relate well to people. They make him feel awkward. He’s an outcast for the gentry but also a weird element in the police force. I couldn’t feel very much sympathy for this aristocrat despite him having a very strong moral compass. I think he’s a rather sad man. Because of his thinking he’s always on the outside looking in but not being part of what’s going on. Well, that’s how I see him, someone else might think differently.
To 21st century readers, a dead castrated priest means usually just 1 thing, and points to a very distinct motive. But here we are in 50’s Ireland where the church influences and holds power over almost every aspect of everyday life. A murdered priest just does not happen, let alone one mutilated in this manner! As an historical and social document, it paints a bleak picture of post-civil war Ireland, where the Catholic Church had its claws on politics, press, police and anything else you can think of. And how they condoned abuse and swept it under the carpet. That is when the people dared to make a complaint as most didn’t dare to speak out against a priest. Such things were common knowledge but no one would speak publicly about it. The best outcome would be that the offender was placed in another parish, where he’d go his merry way again.
I’ve always wondered how the correlation between pedophiles and priests (of any denomination) works. Do they become priests in order to get in contact with children because they’re pedos or is it the other way round and do they discover this perversion only when they’re already priests? No matter what the answer is, YOU DON’T TOUCH CHILDREN!!! And for those who say that they can’t help those feelings. Well, that’s the lamest excuse of every rapist and killer. You don’t have to act on those feelings. Seek help. So many people have feelings that they don’t act on. They know very well that what they do is out of order or they wouldn’t try covering up their crimes. I don’t want to call for vigilante justice, but the courts should be able to order compulsory castration after serving prison time.
I want to say that there are no graphic descriptions of these crimes. It’s told very tastefully with the act self, told off screen. This is in stark contrast with the minute descriptions of people, surroundings, and landscape that can be found in the rest of the book. You could almost draw (well, those with a talent for sketching can) the people when Banville describes someone’s peculiar face or the clothing they wear or put on. It’s really beautifully worded. So it certainly fits into the literary fiction box as well as being a police procedural and a murder mystery. It’s a fairly simple straightforward story with subtle layers of historical social comments that’s written in a very beautiful language.
I thank Netgalley and Faber & Faber for the free ARC of this book the provided; this is my honest and unbiased review of it.
October 11, 2020
Up to now John Banville has made a distinction between his literary novels and his crime novels, the latter written under the pseudonym of Benjamin Black. In his latest novel, which is indeed another crime novel, he has decided to dispense with that conceit and publish it as John Banville. The distinction no longer seems relevant to him. He can be equally good (or bad) in both genres. But for me this book was unsatisfying on both levels. As a crime novel it seems to be playing with the idea of the Golden Age locked room mystery, but with a rather supercilious and knowing wink to the readership, whilst at the same time offering a literary novel, which unfortunately falls flat. The main problem for me was the characterisation – everyone seems to be out of central casting, something that Banville acknowledges, but it doesn’t make for an interesting novel if the characters are never more than caricatures. And then there’s the plot. A Catholic priest is murdered in the country house of a Protestant family, all of whom were at home on the night of the murder, it seems, so they are all suspects. Set in 1950s rural Ireland, a young detective, St. John Strafford, from the Protestant land-owning class, is sent to solve the crime. It’s never explained why he should be serving in the Irish police force, but his slow and careful investigation gradually uncovers the increasingly dark secrets behind the murder – secrets within the family, the Catholic Church and Irish society. But it’s all so predictable and unconvincing and so very old. Write about the Catholic Church in Ireland and straight away the reader expects sexual abuse. Write about sexual abuse and straight away we think of ecclesiastic cover-ups. And that’s what we get here. Nothing new. No revelations. No new ground to explore. And with a cast of frankly bizarre characters, who excite no sympathy, plus far too many murders and suicides, and a whole slew of clichés (“Death makes everything difficult”) and linguistic infelicities, this book has a very amateur feel to it. Not to mention a really jarring description of a lampshade looking as though it were made out of human skin. Really? In an Irish murder mystery? Tasteless, at the very least. Mind you, I quite liked the idea of a tweed suit “the colour of porridge”. Never seen one like that before. So all in all a weak and disappointing novel, mediocre, and too reliant on the tropes of Irish fiction.
December 31, 2021
Initially this book reads as a classic British manor house mystery: a body is found in the library. Then it morphs into a police procedural. And finally it establishes its true nature: an examination of the religious and political issues fomenting in Ireland in the 1950's.
The plot is pretty easily deciphered fairly early on, and Banville gives us little to connect with in the main character, St. John (SinJin) Strafford. Strafford is a member of the Protestant class, an artifact of the colonial history of the British in Ireland. The house where the body - that of a Catholic priest - is found is a crumbling pile similar to the one in which Strafford was raised. And Strafford himself somehow echoes this fading class, standing in marked contrast to the more vivid, and vividly rendered, Catholic Irish population of the village of Ballyglass.
The power and cynicism of The Church, which permeates every fiber of the Irish culture and politics in 1957, are the real targets in this story. It would be difficult to describe more of the story line without spoilers, but at least we are spared the horrors of the Magdalene laundries in this book.
Banville's writing is at its best when, near the end of the book, he shifts from the third person to a first person confessional that is unsettling but compelling.
Strafford's introspective musings are our only insight into his character. One which was particularly concise and will stay with me is this: Was everyone haunted by a self that had never been?
I think the answer to that is probably yes, at least for most of the people I have known. Whatever the cause, whether our own poor choices or circumstances we are unable to escape, that road not traveled becomes part of us. As it does with the characters in this book.
The plot is pretty easily deciphered fairly early on, and Banville gives us little to connect with in the main character, St. John (SinJin) Strafford. Strafford is a member of the Protestant class, an artifact of the colonial history of the British in Ireland. The house where the body - that of a Catholic priest - is found is a crumbling pile similar to the one in which Strafford was raised. And Strafford himself somehow echoes this fading class, standing in marked contrast to the more vivid, and vividly rendered, Catholic Irish population of the village of Ballyglass.
The power and cynicism of The Church, which permeates every fiber of the Irish culture and politics in 1957, are the real targets in this story. It would be difficult to describe more of the story line without spoilers, but at least we are spared the horrors of the Magdalene laundries in this book.
Banville's writing is at its best when, near the end of the book, he shifts from the third person to a first person confessional that is unsettling but compelling.
Strafford's introspective musings are our only insight into his character. One which was particularly concise and will stay with me is this: Was everyone haunted by a self that had never been?
I think the answer to that is probably yes, at least for most of the people I have known. Whatever the cause, whether our own poor choices or circumstances we are unable to escape, that road not traveled becomes part of us. As it does with the characters in this book.
July 6, 2020
No, Strafford thought, there was no sense to it. The thing was entirely implausible, and yet there it was, the deed was done, the man was dead. He felt as if he were stumbling through a snowstorm, the snow dense and blindingly white. There were others around him, also moving, dim grey ghosts, and when he reached out to touch them he grasped only an icy emptiness.
Snow begins like a straightforward murder mystery (“The body is in the library,” Colonel Osborne said. “Come this way.”), and if one were to read it as a straightforward murder mystery, one might be disappointed; the whodunnit and whydunnits are rather easily solved, and as social commentary, this doesn't really break new ground. So I was forced to ruminate on why a Booker-winning novelist like John Banville put this together (and I especially wondered why he wrote it under his own name instead of the pen name, Benjamin Black, he uses for his Quirke series of mysteries), and I came to a satisfying conclusion: This is a very self-aware and ironic piece of post-modernist writing, and while it may not serve to expose something new about the social constructs of 1950s Ireland (even if this storyline would have been absolutely explosive had it been written in the day), Banville creatively employs the tropes of mystery fiction to provide the ultimate overview of those times. Line-by-line, the writing is just exquisite, and in the large picture, something important is achieved; just don't expect a satisfying murder mystery because I honestly don't believe that was Banville's intent. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
Was he imagining it all? There was always the danger, in his job, of seeing things that weren't there, of making a pattern where there wasn't one. The policeman insists that there be a plot. However, life itself is plotless.
Detective Inspector St John Strafford is called to Ballyglass House – the Co. Wexford family seat of the aristocratic Osborne family – to investigate the death, and perhaps murder, of family friend, Fr Tom Lawless. Like the Osbornes, Strafford is from Ireland's mouldering aristocratic class – his posh boarding school accent, tailored (if shabby) clothes, and Protestant upbringing serve to distance the young detective from the locals during his investigation – and the ironic tension of this particular detective investigating the death of a Catholic priest (who happens to have been the son of a notoriously fierce fighter for independence during Ireland's recent Civil War) makes for interesting commentary on the times (I don't think I've ever read a book from this particular POV and I did find it fascinating). Add in the fact that Strafford is practically immune to the Catholic Church's efforts to control the investigation, and this does feel like an original slant on recent Irish history.
In addition to that last passage quoted, characters are forever noting that their situation feels fictional:
• Will you look at this place? Next thing Poirot himself will appear on the scene.
• Another player steps on stage, Stafford thought grimly, though this one would know his part to the last aside.
• You poor man – what you must think of us all! We must seem like the characters in one of those novels about mad people in country houses.
In addition to referencing Agatha Christie (more than once) and Banville's own character Dr Quirke (apparently away from Dublin on his honeymoon), characters freely quote from Joyce and Beckett and Shakespeare (or is that Chaucer?); the effect being a postmodern acknowledgement that we are reading a work of fiction and we are to understand that the specifics matter less than the overall effort. What Snow captures about class and power in 1950s Ireland is interesting enough to have been explored through fiction and important enough to employ these ironic effects to remind the reader that it's also the truth.
And in addition to all that, the small details in Banville's writing are so pleasurable. I especially liked the way he introduces us to characters:
The first thing everyone noticed about Sergeant Jenkins was the flatness of his head. It looked as if the top of it had been sliced clean off, like the big end of a boiled egg. How, people wondered, was there room for a brain of any size at all in such a shallow space? He tried to hide the disfigurement by slathering his hair with Brylcreem and forcing it into a sort of bouffant style on top, but no one was fooled. The story was that the midwife had dropped him on his head when he was born, but it seemed too far-fetched to be true. Oddly, he never wore a hat, perhaps on the principle that a hat would flatten his carefully fluffed-up hair and spoil the attempted camouflage.
Or:
Her skin was pinkly pale, the colour of skimmed milk into which had been mixed a single drop of blood. Her face was like that of a Madonna by one of the lesser Old Masters, with dark eyes and a long sharp nose with a little bump at the tip. She wore a beige cardigan and a calf-length grey skirt that hung a little crookedly on her hips, which were no broader than a boy's. She wasn't beautiful, Strafford thought, but all the same something in her frail, melancholy looks pressed a bell deep within him that made a soundless, sad little ping.
Again, I wasn't captivated by the murder mystery elements (the solution is telegraphed fairly early on); but again, I don't think I was meant to be – in the end, I'm actually happy to have been underwhelmed by that aspect because it made me stop and really think about what Banville was trying to say. Turns out: it was quite a lot and it all worked for me.
July 18, 2020
Given the profession of the murder victim and the nature of his injuries, there was little doubt in my mind where this story was going so I just settled in for the journey and hoped to enjoy some great writing. Apart from some lovely snow-covered landscape and some memorable descriptions of characters - as Inspector Strafford notes, they seem like actors in costume ready to walk on stage and description is confined mainly to their looks, we learn little of their inner selves - I found it all a tad underwhelming. The main message I took away is that the Catholic Church in Ireland in the last century has much to answer for and I knew that already. Not a book I would particularly recommend.
With thanks to Faber via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
With thanks to Faber via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
October 4, 2020
Ireland, 1957: A priest has been murdered in Ballyglass House, the estate of a Protestant Upper class family. DI Stafford has be3n called in to investigate. Christmas is approaching and the snow is falling heavily. DI Stafford and DS Jenkins must solve this heinous crime quickly.
This book portrays the history of Irish Catholicism. Ireland was ruled under the Catholic Church but Archbishop John Charles McQuaid. There's quite a few suspects who all hav3 motives. The snow creates on ominous impression to the story. The story also covers sexual abuse and mutilation. It's beautifully written with many clues revealed along the way. I did work it all out but that doesn't spoil a stoey for me. This is an account of a time in Irelands history.
I would like to thank #NetGalley, #FaberAndFaber and the author #JohnBanville for my ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This book portrays the history of Irish Catholicism. Ireland was ruled under the Catholic Church but Archbishop John Charles McQuaid. There's quite a few suspects who all hav3 motives. The snow creates on ominous impression to the story. The story also covers sexual abuse and mutilation. It's beautifully written with many clues revealed along the way. I did work it all out but that doesn't spoil a stoey for me. This is an account of a time in Irelands history.
I would like to thank #NetGalley, #FaberAndFaber and the author #JohnBanville for my ARC in exchange for an honest review.
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