Product Description

Quirke’s pathology department, set deep beneath the city, is his own gloomy realm: always quiet, always night, and always under his control. Until late one evening after a party he stumbles across a body that should not be there – and his brother-in-law falsifying the corpse’s cause of death.

This is the first time Quirke has encountered Christine Falls, but the investigation he decides to lead into the way she lived and died uncovers a dark secret at the heart of Dublin’s high Catholic network; one with the power to shake his own family and everything he holds dear.

‘A superb stylist . . . His control and pacing cannot be faulted, and the final outcome is almost unbearably moving . . .You’re in for a treat’ Michael Dibdin, Guardian

‘Succeeds sensationally . . . An absorbing plot, beguiling characters and evocative settings . . . His pacing is impeccable’ Marcel Berlins, The Times

‘A gripping, beautifully crafted thriller . . . A one sitting-read, an all-night enticement’ Scotsman

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #29390 in Books
• Published on: 2007-10-19
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 400 pages

Observer
'Black's narrative seems to unravel of its own accord, echoing the rythmns of Joyce and James'

Guardian
'the imagery is unforgettable.'

Evening Standard
'The plotting's watertight, the setting crackingly criminal and the language a cut above your usual potboiler'

Customer Reviews

"We all have our own kinds of sin."
With the same care that he devotes to his "serious" fiction, Booker Prize-winning author John Banville, under the pen name of "Benjamin Black," plumbs Dublin's Roman Catholic heritage in a mystery which examines the question of sin. The result is a vibrantly alive, intensely realized story of Dublin life and values in the 1950s--a mystery which makes the reader think at the same time that s/he is being entertained. Unlike most of the characters, Quirke, the main character, holds no awe for the church. In his early forties, "big and heavy and awkward," Quirke is a pathologist/coroner at Holy Family Hospital, a man who "prizes his loneliness as mark of some distinction." A realist, he has seen the dark side of life too often to hold out much hope for the future, his own or anyone else's.

His vision of humanity is not improved when he goes to his office unexpectedly one evening and finds his brother-in-law, famed obstetrician Malachy Griffin, altering documents regarding the death of a young woman, Christine Falls. Quirke's autopsy of Christine shows, not surprisingly, that she has died in childbirth, a "fallen woman" in the eyes of the church. The nature of Christine's sin, however, does not begin to compare to the sins that Quirke uncovers during his investigation of her death and the fate of her child.

John Banville (Black) has always been at least as interested in character as plot, and this novel is no exception. Quirke lived in an orphanage before being unofficially adopted by Judge Garrett Griffin, father of Dr. Malachy Griffin, who is obviously involved in the case. Developing on parallel planes, the novel becomes a study of Quirke and his personal relationships, at the same time that it is a study of Christine Falls and what she represents about Dublin society, the medical profession, and the church and its influence. Gradually, the reader learns about the Knights of St. Patrick, a conservative Catholic organization; the association of the Knights with American charities; the behind-the-scenes administration of orphanages and convents; and the nature of power in upper-echelon Dublin.

Murders, torture, beatings, and violence keep the action level high (and a bit melodramatic), in keeping with the great, old-fashioned tradition of 1950s mystery-writing. A change of location from Dublin to Boston broadens the scope, connecting the Dublin mystery to the history of the Irish and their traditions in Boston. The author's use of parallel scenes emphasizes contrasts and similarities (a Christmas party in Dublin vs. a Christmas party in Boston, for example), and he maintains a conversational voice appropriate for Quirke. After this fine debut mystery, one can easily imagine Banville developing the character of Quirke in future mysteries and becoming, like Graham Greene, a writer of both serious literary fiction and "entertainments." Mary Whipple

As a 'detective' or 'crime' novel it gets only 1 star
I note that other reviewers really liked this, so you might too. But if you're anything like me you will be terribly disappointed.

I bought this off the shelf in a supermarket because it says on the back cover "Booker Prize-winning author John Banville introduces the irascible pathologist Quirke, an unforgettable new crime-fiction detective" This told me (a) that Black is a 'good' writer and that (b) this is a mystery novel involving pathology. I read a lot of what's usually described as crime or mystery writing from Patterson and Kernick at the almost unreadable end, through Coben, Connolly, Connelly, Cornwell, Deaver, Gerritsen, Kellerman, Rankin, Slaughter, etc. They all have different strengths and all have much from which Black could learn.

Perhaps I was led to expect too much. The cover quote suggests it's "Superb ... almost unbearably moving" and other reviewers are almost as gushing. I even heard the literary reviewer on Classic FM describe a subsequent Benjamin Black as 'perfect'. Clearly in literary circles, a very literary novel with some semblance of plot or narrative is a rare and treasured thing. If indeed you like John Banville's work and you like 'literary' novels, you will like this as much as other reviews suggest, but if you do come to this from the same position as me - a fan of mysteries looking for something more 'literary' in the sense that it effortlessly and beautifully describes scenes, events and emotions, then you could well be disappointed.

My first disappointment is that it contains no pathology. Quirke does not use his supposed professional skill at all. He might as well be a librarian.

My second disappointment is that 1950s Dublin could be anywhere at any time. I was hoping to get a real sense of the people, the place and the era, but I clearly missed something.

My third disappointment is the plot. There are no surprises left in what the Catholic Church got up to in the 1950s. There are no amazing revelations here. I wasn't expecting a high body count, or graphic detail of homicides or autopsies. Just a decent plot, maybe with a twist or two, perhaps a surprise here and there, something - anything- that makes the narrative a mystery. Black should watch a few episodes of Scooby Doo to get the idea, which is a simple one.

My fourth disappointment is the suspense, or total lack of it. At one point, Quirke fears for his safety as a couple of sinister criminals watch him from the shadows. Yeah? I wasn't too bothered myself.

In a detective novel, narrative is paramount. Black doesn't seem to care. In a detective novel, the skillful writer will evoke scenes and moods with a few carefully crafted phrases. Black rambles to no great effect.

If you like proper, normal, detective novels, you get a far better evocation of people's minds and emotions from Jonathan Kellerman. You get a far better sense of place in Ian Rankin's Edinburgh, or John Connolly's Maine. And you'll actually get some pathology in Cornwell, if little else (go for Gerritsen instead). If you want some detective work, a little mystery and suspense, then read anything but this.

The back cover quote from Marcel Berlins reads, "Succeeds sensationally ... An absorbing plot, beguiling characters and evocative settings ... His pacing is impeccable." Either Berlins was reading a different book, or we have very different tastes. He is quite wrong. "Christine Falls" fails dismally. The plot is unconvincing, the characters uninteresting, the settings insipid. The pace is leaden.

Dark, rich and complex
I find John Banville's 'literary' novels unreadable, but here, in a new venture, he combines elegance with readability to deliver character, plot and atmosphere. Dublin in the 50s plays a large part, and very grim it is too: priest-bound, stuffy and snobbish. Quirke is a promising central character, even if a drink problem is a rather too common device for both professional and amateur detectives. He grapples with guilt, although not Catholic guilt, over the wife who died in childbirth and the woman he really loved but let slip away; and the unfolding plot delivers some stunning news about his young niece.

It's not a whodunnit, but it still springs surprises. I'm looking forward to the second installment.