I have written four novels that involve crime in one way or another, but I do not consider myself a crime novelist. I simply find crime stories offer a compelling way to explore universal human experiences. I was a prosecutor when I was younger, so I try to bring a level of fluency in criminal law to my novels, but the usual warning applies: this is fiction, and it is better that a story be authentic than actually true.
In the current media environment, it is hard for us to do the one essential thing that novel readers must do: suspend disbelief—to read something that we know is not true, yet accept it as if it were true. It is a cynical time. We have learned to mistrust what we read.
So what is a novelist to do? Well, one way to win over skeptical readers is by a simple trick, one that I love (as both reader and writer): the novelist appears in his own novel. My novel uses a similar device, beginning with a novelist-narrator who bears a striking resemblance to me. These five novels all use a similar strategy.
The first book, American Pastoral, is one of my favorites. Philip Roth frequently borrowed from his own life in his novels, but to me, this is his most effective blend of fact and fiction. The novel lifts details from Roth’s actual childhood in Newark, New Jersey. Is the story “true”? In tone, it sure is.
Philip Roth's fiction has often explored the human need to demolish, to challenge, to oppose, to pull apart. Now, writing with deep understanding, with enormous power and scope and great storytelling energy, he focuses on the counterforce: the longing for an ordinary life. Seymour 'Swede' Levov - a legendary high school athlete, a devoted family man, a hard worker, the prosperous inheritor of his father's glove factory - comes of age in thriving, triumphant, postwar America. He has a beautiful wife - Miss New Jersey 1949 - and a lively, precocious daughter, Merry. She is the apple of his eye…
Roth was a conservative writer in terms of prose style, but he was adventurous in bending the forms of narrative fiction, so let’s stick with him for a second novel: The Counterlife, from 1986.
Roth frequently appeared in his own novels, either undisguised as a character named Philip Roth or as one of his alter egos, notably the fictional novelist Nathan Zuckerman. Here a conventional Zuckerman novel goes steadily bonkers, with jumps in point of view and setting, until the term “novel” seems not quite to fit.
NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD WINNER • A “magnificent…splendid” novel (The New York Times Book Review) from the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of American Pastoral about people living out their dreams of renewal and escape, some of them even risking their lives to change their seemingly irreversible fates.
Illuminating these lives in transition and guiding us through the book's evocative landscapes, familiar and foreign, is the mind of the novelist Nathan Zuckerman. His is the skeptical, enveloping intelligence that calculates the price that's paid in the struggle to change personal fortune and reshape history, whether in a dentist's office in suburban…
I am sentimental about this book. It was one of my favorite books when I was young. The portrayal of Larry Darrell as a seeker of spiritual meaning—a proto-Kerouac—captures the yearning of a lot of young people, I suspect. But I include it here for its beguiling narrative strategy.
The novel is presented as a true story narrated by Maugham himself, concerning a group of young people he observed at various points in their lives and their interactions with Elliott Templeton, a vain but loveable snob who also bears a more-than-passing resemblance to Maugham. Its opening pages feel almost like a memoir.
Larry Darrell is a young American in search of the absolute. The progress of this spiritual odyssey involves him with some of Maugham's most brillant characters - his fiancee Isabel, whose choice between love and wealth have lifelong repercussions, and Elliot Templeton, her uncle, a classic expatriate American snob. The most ambitious of Maugham's novels, this is also one in which Maugham himself plays a considerable part as he wanders in and out of the story, to observe his characters struggling with their fates.
Graham Greene is another one of my favorites, and to me, this is his best and most heartbreaking novel. Greene traveled widely and wrote novels that were closely reported, but this book required no research, which may account for its raw, intimate quality.
His novelist-narrator, Maurice Bendrix, is a thinly disguised stand-in for Greene, and the story of a wartime affair unraveling among spiritual mysteries closely tracks Greene’s own life, both romantic and spiritual—a fact that would have been well known to contemporary readers, as the affair that inspired the book was widely gossiped about.
The love affair between Maurice Bendrix and Sarah, flourishing in the turbulent times of the London Blitz, ends when she suddenly and without explanation breaks it off. After a chance meeting rekindles his love and jealousy two years later, Bendrix hires a private detective to follow Sarah, and slowly his love for her turns into an obsession.
A more modern example of the writer as a character in his own novel, borrowing pieces of his own life and weaving them into something more. It is so polished that it is hard to believe it was the first novel. And so personal, in the way it borrows from Foer’s family history (or seems to), that it gives the reader that distinctive shiver of fiction that threatens to burst through the confines of a novel into something like truth—realism that verges on reality.
I tried to weave my own history into my book in a similar way; this book probably had something to do with that.
This is the story of a young man who visits the Ukraine to find the woman who saved his grandfather from the Nazis. In turns hilarious and harrowing, lit with a manic energy, it is narrated in part by a Ukranian translator, who has a murderous approach to the English language, and in part by the young man, who reanimates the lives of his grandfather and ancestors. Eventually the past meets the present, as fiction collides with reality in an unforgettable climax. With breathtaking inventiveness and narrative control, Jonathan Safran Foer has written a book about searching - for people…
An author recalls a childhood friend whose mother mysteriously vanished in 1975, launching an epic, decades-long mystery that leaps in time, place, and perspective and explores the limits of justice, identity, and memory.
I write historical crime fiction, and my latest novel is set in a hospital, a real place, now closed. The South London Hospital for Women and Children (1912–1985) was set up by pioneering suffragists and women surgeons Maud Chadburn and Eleanor Davies-Colley (the first woman admitted to the Royal College of Surgeons) and I recreate the now almost-forgotten hospital in my book. Events take place in 1946 when wartime trauma still impacts upon a society exhausted by conflict, and my book choices also reflect this.
A historical thriller set in south London just after World War II, as Britain returns to civilian life and the men return home from the fight, causing the women to leave their wartime roles. The South London Hospital for Women and Children is a hospital, (based on a real place) run by women for women and must make adjustments of its own. As austerity bites, the coldest Winter then on record makes life grim. Then a young nurse goes missing.
Days later, her body is found behind a locked door, and two women from the hospital, unimpressed by the police…
One cold dark night, as a devastated London shivers through the transition to post-war life, a young nurse goes missing from the South London Hospital for Women & Children. Her body is discovered hours later behind a locked door.
Two women from the hospital join forces to investigate the case. Determined not to return to the futures laid out for them before the war, the unlikely sleuths must face their own demons and dilemmas as they pursue - The Midnight Man.
‘A mystery that evokes the period – and a recovering London – in…
