“The Sea” by John Banville

After my earlier (and only) experience with John Banville, you might think I wouldn’t go back for more. But you would be wrong. I mean, Snow had already proven to me that Banville was a good writer, even if I didn't like the subject matter; and Sam assured me that The Sea was worth a read. 

And it was. I definitely liked Sea better than Snow. (Heh, that's literally true as well as literarily true!) And it certainly didn't hurt that when I started reading it, we were at the seaside (hence the lovely photo . . . wish we were still there).  

The Sea is one of those stories that is simultaneously about an old(ish) man and his current life, as well as that same man's experiences as a boy. Max Morden grew up spending his summers by the sea, although his family could only afford to stay in a wooden chalet (which must not be as nice as it sounds in my head). One seaside summer he befriended the Graces who were renting a cottage called the Cedars, and Old Max (grieving the death of his wife) tells us bit by bit about that summer as experienced by Young Max.

The story was powerful and intense, but in a remote way. Max somehow seemed an observer of his own grief—and as a result, so (mercifully) was I, by a further degree of separation. The book did not make me cry (and I did not have to fight it). The same was true (although perhaps less surprisingly so, since it was distant past), for his childhood experiences. But just because it wasn't a tearjerker doesn't mean it wasn't good. (Besides, you know me--if a book is not emotionally manipulative, that's a positive quality in my mind.) It had that great literary unfolding that I so enjoy, along with a few twists. So what if I guessed one of the them (of identity) before the end--I didn't guess the other (of love).