Given what Ball had given The Cupboard, I’d assumed all this time this would be a language-driven book. Or if not a language-driven book, much like something written by a Lish devotee, than an image-driven one. A Ben Marcus novel, or maybe like a Djuna Barnes one.
Imagine my surprise to read this morning a plot-driven novel.
I was only going to breeze through a few pages as a way to get ready for the morning’s writing. And then, four hours later: Finished.
Samedi the Deafness is a mystery novel. Its back cover’s blurbs do a fine job of summing it up: Kafka meets Hitchcock, or Kafka meets Fleming. Take your pick. The latter(s) in that one day James Sim leaves the house and comes across a man who’s just been stabbed and “learns” of a possible plot to destroy mankind. Events progress well outside of his own control. The former in that in those events we never know whom to trust, what is the truth, or even if such exists. Hence those quote marks a few sentences back.
Continue reading Samedi the Deafness, Jesse Ball