"How wildly the wind blows today, thumping its big soft ineffectual fists on the window panes."
I don't know whether or not I'll read any more ofJohn Banville's books. I can't deny that I found the vocabulary difficult at times (should have had a dictionary near me when reading it, though the language is indulgent and delightful),and it seems to me that this is a book that would repay academic study. Something in it reminds me of Ford Madox Ford's The Good Soldier-- the retrospective first person narration of a tragedy, the narrator belying himself in some way, the lines of desire to follow, to track. Though in some measure I found it very unrewarding until the last ten pages, it's good to see a more literary book win the Booker, and I know I'm very grateful that this won rather than Zadie Smith or Julian Barnes particularly.
