The Singularities a Complex Swan Song?

 

The Singularities ( 2022) 

By John Banville 

Alfred a Knopf, 307 pages 

★★★★

 

 

Some physics postulates rest more on reason and incomplete observation than incontrovertible evidence. Singularities like black holes–distortions in space-time–are said to be infinitely dense, but how do we prove that? Quantum entanglement–two linked particles that react spontaneously even when separated by vast distances–remain mysterious. The multiverse? Of course, a singularity is also a unique thing. 

 

You don't need physics to read The Singularities, just appreciate entangled lives and how altered circumstances distort human time. This is John Banville's 20th novel* and perhaps the 77-year-old Irish literary giant’s swan song. Dedicated Banville readers will  recognize Freddie Montgomery, the antihero of a past trilogy. In The Singularities, he emerges from prison after 25 years for a murder he committed during a burglary gone wrong. Freddie’s a hoodlum, but he never intended murder. He felt he deserved his time in the penitentiary; he did not enjoy it, but neither did he detest it, even if that meant buggery, violence, and boredom non-disciplined minds would perceive as black holes. 

 

It's time for a new identity: Felix Mordaunt, a surname suited for his altered straits. Though his intellect is keener than most, he’s no kingpin anymore and must leave town by squeezing into a Sprite lent by a former crime partner who now presents as a respectable auto dealer. Mordaunt drives to Coolgrange estate, which was once his but is now called Arden. It is owned by Adam and Helen Godley, he the son of a deceased famed/infamous mathematician of the same name. Adam the elder’s  Brahma theorem postulates that, “knowledge of the nature of reality” alters it, because “each glowing new discovery... brings about an equal and opposite darkening, the punching of the hole and the wall of the great sphere that is time and space.” This has implications for multiverse theory, hence Godly was either a towering genius or anathema depending on how academics line up.  

 

William Jaybee—the name a lampoon anagram of the author's birthname of John William Banville—is a professor at an Oxbridge-like university. He is among those who views Godley as an abomination. When we first meet Jaybee, his opinions about Godley are deliciously arch and vicious. He's in good company; none of Banville’s academics have high regard for anyone other than themselves! 

 

Felix secures diminished employment at Arden, the new owners unaware of his identity, but his entry isn't as debased as Jaybee’s. When Godley’s son approaches the portly prof to write his father’s official biography, he is dismissive. But unfettered access to Godley's papers, assurances he can write whatever he wishes, residency at posh Arden, and scads of money lead to reassessment. The fact that Jaybee is besotted with Helen–a fanciful vanity–also helps. 

 

These entanglements are the tip of the iceberg. There’s also Mourdant’s perverse pleasure in annoying his nosey landlady and his compromised cover when Anna Behrends appears. She’s a former mistress and crime partner who also slept with Freddie's deceased wife. Adam the younger is sullen and haunted by his sister’s suicide, and both Anna and Helen fancy some under-the-sheets activity with Freddie/Felix. The game is afoot! 

 

Banville walks the tightrope between mystery and comedy with great aplomb and never tips his hand if we are to see his novel as a satire on manners or an exploration of theoretical geometry and physics. Jaybee is the Falstaff of the piece, but other clown princes abound. 

 

Banville has mastered the art of literary snark. Imagine Jaybee’s crisis when maybe he can’t eviscerate Adam Godley. The Singularities also has a lot of such tragi-comedic moments. Not to fear though; Freddie’s the top dog when it comes to misanthropy. The opening chapter in which he leaves jail is an absolute masterpiece of mixed messages, one that induces you to laugh aloud, but suspect that Freddie is about to shove a stiletto into someone's back. 

 

The novel occasionally lags. Banville’s venture into arcane theory would have been more accessible in small splashes rather than deep dives. All we really need is the rudiments of the Brahma theorem controversy; too much produces tone changes that feel like showing off rather than illuminating our protagonists. But to reiterate a point I've made elsewhere, I prefer books that are too smart over those too dumb. In his own fashion, John Banville has created a multiverse even when he stays in this dimension. 

 

Rob Weir 

 

* He wrote others under nom de plumes.