I'm afraid All Names Have Been Changed is likely to be my biggest disappointment of the year. Claire Kilroy's two previous novels (All Summer and Tenderwire) were taut, intelligent crime based novels bursting with intrigue and character. All Names Have Been Changed is a departure, aiming pretty unambiguously for the Literary Fiction market, but falling short of the target.
The basic premise is a group of six students signing up for a course in creative writing with the great Irish writer, Patrick Glynn. Glynn himself is a parody of the drunken Irish writer, apparently an amalgam of various attributes and achievements of various Irish writers. The fun of the book, such as it is, is trying to identify which writer each factoid or quirk has been borrowed from.
And that, really, is as good as it gets. Because if Glynn's characterization is thin, that of the others is anorexic.
The story is told by Declan, a man who seems to be more fascinated by the four women in the group than he is by Glynn. Unfortunately, Declan is an outsider to the close knit group that the women form, and to which Glynn himself finds himself admitted. This puts Declan at some disadvantage, then, in conveying the different characters at play; the subtleties of the inter-relationships. Instead, all we see are single traits by which we are supposed to distinguish them (Guinevere is a Goth; Faye's husband beats her; Antonia is older; and Aisling is arty). However, the women tend to blur into one another and since there is no particular plot, none of them does anything more interesting than wander the streets of Dublin with a drunken writer. It scarcely matters that the women are so forgettable; they are not worth remembering.
This far, we have a book with little plot and little characterization. The killer blow; the icing on the cake; is that Declan, like the women, is an aspiring writer. Therefore he has to narrate in the style of an aspiring writer. Hence, we have 280 pages of turgid, overwritten, juvenile, pretentious prose. Apparently this is supposed to be humorous, and had it been a two or three page excerpt, it might have worked. But in practice, there is no difference between reading a novel written in the style of a bad writer and reading a novel that is actually written by a bad writer. And perhaps I might mention in passing that Claire Kilroy doesn't actually convince with her male voice. Each and every reference to Declan, or to Declan's masculinity, jars with a consistently female interior monologue.
Claire Kilroy is clearly a writer of some talent, based on past evidence. It is laudable that she didn't want to pigeonhole herself as a crime writer and aspired to produce something different. But unfortunately this really hasn't worked.