Ancient Light [Hardcover]

Whether or not you like this book will depend on your response to Banville's style. The story is slow and contemplative; narrated by an ageing actor, it tells the story of his first sexual awakening in an affair with the mother of his best friend, the suicide of his daughter ten years ago and his current involvement in shooting a film. He often addresses the reader directly, describes things in unusual detail and digresses from the tale into odd preoccupations and observations. The book is about the nature of memory as much as anything - how we remember, misremember and unknowingly invent - and I think Banville does this brilliantly. He describes very believably how memories seem to work, realising for example that he remembers autumn leaves lying when the event must have taken place in April, or forgetting the content of a really important conversation but remembering small details about where it took place. He conjures astonishingly vivid scenes from minutiae like the smell of a stone wall by a road or the wafting of steam from a kettle, and comes up with some wonderful descriptions like the woman who "really is of the most remarkable shape, and might have been assembled from a collection of cardboard boxes of varying sizes that were first left out in the rain and then piled soggily any old way one on top of another."

It will probably be clear early on whether you are going to enjoy the book. The second paragraph of the book begins, "What do I recall of her, here in these soft pale days at the lapsing of the year?" and a few pages later, "...I would lie with my cheek resting on her midriff...and in my ear the pings and plonks of her innards at their ceaseless work of transubstantiation." I think if you like all this, along with things like talk of "vermiform corridors" and descriptions and speculative character analysis of a random tramp, you will like the book and if you don't, you won't.

Personally, I loved individual parts but found a whole book of it a bit much so I find it difficult to give an overall rating. I can't recommend it unreservedly because it became a bit of a struggle slogging through it all, but I would be very sorry not to have read it. I suspect that a lot of people will love it and a lot will dislike it. I hope the above has given you some idea of whether or not it will be to your taste.

"Images from the past crowd in my head and half the time I cannot tell whether they are memories or inventions... Madame Memory is a great and subtle dissembler".

Alex Cleave, a semi-retired stage actor in his sixties, sits in his attic room musing on a past love affair which took place in the 1950s, when he was fifteen and fell in love with a woman twenty years his senior, called Celia Gray, the mother of his best friend, Billy. Almost without dialogue, this story is first person narrated by Alex and, as he sifts through his memories, we learn about his past life - but only what he wishes to reveal for, as Alex tells us, we are being told the items of flotsam that he chooses to salvage from the general wreckage. While Alex muses on his past, his wife, Lydia, grief-stricken after the loss of their only child, Cass, who died ten years previously, suffers nocturnal bouts of mania where she leaves her bed and sleepwalks through their home, desperately seeking and calling out for her daughter. Alex suffering from his own grief, finds himself always in the position of trying to comfort Lydia and, after yet another sleepless night, as they sit on the stairs and around them "the hall furniture stands dimly in the gloom like shocked and speechless attendants", Alex wonders about the nature of grief and whether there is such a thing as the mortal soul. And as Alex tries to cope with caring for Lydia and mourning the loss of his daughter, he takes refuge by revisiting moments from his past.

As Alex muses on his past life, we learn about his first meeting with Celia Gray, as she cycles past him and the wind obligingly lifts her skirt to reveal her stockinged and suspender-belted lower form, followed by a later sighting of her as Alex waits for Billy and espies her naked body reflected in a dressing table mirror; we read how their first coming together takes place in the laundry room amongst the washing, the soap powder and the ironing board; we learn of their love-making in the back seat of the family car and of their trysts in an abandoned cottage in the woods. And running alongside Alex's memories of a past romance, the story also focuses on the present day as we read how Alex is tempted out of retirement and is offered and takes up his first role in a Hollywood movie.

Regular readers of Banville's fiction may recognize Alex and Cass Cleave from his previous novels: Eclipse and Shroud, so this book could be termed the third in a loose trilogy of stories, but this novel can be read and enjoyed quite independently from the previous two. As always, Banville's lavish prose and his desire to create complex aesthetic effects is in evidence in this novel and, as I read in a 'Paris Review' interview, Banville is unapologetic in being committed to putting language and rhythm above plot; therefore, his style of writing is something readers either seem to admire or dislike - as shown by the mixed reviews of this novel from Amazon readers. Personally I am generally an admirer of Banville's writing, but I do have to say that I did not find this novel quite as satisfying as some of his previous novels, particularly The Book of Evidence and The Untouchable. In summary I can say that this beautifully written, rather sombre story, is a tale that glimmers rather than sparkles.

3.5 Stars.

On reading Ancient Light, I felt that I'd read it before. Perhaps this is because, subject-matter wise, it is reminiscent to me of 'Notes on a Scandal' or 'Lolita'. In contrast, however, Ancient Light is more ponderous and knowing, more poetic, elegaic and tired and also verbally obscurantist. A lot of reviewers reached for their dictionary on reading some of these out-of-common-use words though I must admit I didn't- frankly, because I was not interested enough. This may be because I find the subject of a 15 year old and 35 year old friend's mum in sexual union uncomfortable to read about. I just couldn't get over a slightly yuk! 'I don't want to read about this' feeling.

Perhaps my deja-vu was about the instability of memory and identity that is the real subject of this novel. Having examined some of my own early memories there were some clashes with my siblings. For example, I thought I put out the fire in my mum's hair over the alight christmas pudding, but my sister tells me she did. I even remember batting mum's head with a tea-towel repeatedly - a very physical memory which includes the smell of burnt hair - though I cannot put money on this memory as my sister swears it is hers. Memory is creatively selective and connective as Banville shows very well.

Memories are examined from every angle and this makes for a frequently painstainkingly slow pace. It is narrated by Alexander Cleave, retired actor, with an almost scientific approach to memory and grief that made me feel quite sleepy. To me reading Ancient Light was like listening to a verbose and circuitous talker, and trying to pay close attention.

The style of writing is too clever and too arch for my personal liking and the subject matter as I have said wasn't really my cup of tea. However, I did enjoy the metaphors some of which I found quite funny. Overall I have given this 3 stars as I think Banville is a first class writer. I think though I have started with the wrong Banville book.