The Blasphemer [Paperback]

Once I had waded through the first fifty pages or so, I thought this an excellent book. It is thoughtful, insightful, gripping and generally very well written. I found the lengthy scene-setting at the beginning so tedious and apparently self-indulgent that I very nearly gave up but I am extremely glad I didn't. The rest is so good that I still rate it as a five-star book - a rare thing for me.

The publisher's blurb tells (slightly inaccurately) probably more of the plot than I wanted to know before starting the book, so I won't summarize it further, but it switches between the main protagonist in the present day and his great grandfather at Passchendaele in 1917 and 1918. This works extremely well: both stories are very involving and are very skilfully counterposed, with neat, subtle parallels and contrasts between the two. I thought the brief periods of extreme action in both stories quite brilliant. There have been a lot of fine evocations of the First World War trenches but Farndale's description of a man in the build-up to action and then going over the top felt quite new and had me absolutely riveted with a racing heart and sweaty palms. The crash which drives the present-day plot is the point at which the book really takes off and again is simply brilliantly described.

Thoughtful moments are equally well done. For example, Farndale says of one character waiting at the Cenotaph on Remembrance Sunday, "...he had not known his father, who in turn had not known his father. Neither man had grown old as he, the son and grandson, had grown old. They had instead been frozen in youth, their likenesses recorded in a few granular photographs, their names carved on stones in foreign fields. They were strangers to one another, grandfather, father and son, yet once a year, on the same November morning they met for two minutes in the silence." I found that very touching, and was equally moved to emotion or thought in several other places.

The book deals with a complex interplay of ideas: among others the nature of cowardice and courage, the nature of powerful religious faith and militant scientific atheism and whether either can offer a complete world view alone, and what might really constitute guilt, forgiveness and redemption. Farndale manages this without being at all turgid or preachy, and encompasses it all in a story which I found page-turningly engrossing and exciting. The characters are believeable and well-drawn. (He catches beautifully the blokey relationship between two men who really care for each other, for example.) There are even a couple of really good jokes. The dénouements of the various strands are perhaps not all entirely plausible, but I really didn't mind that - it certainly didn't interfere with my interest and enjoyment.

I'm sorry this is rather a long review. I don't think I could do the book justice in a brief one. Please don't be deterred if, like me, you find the book's opening a struggle. You will be rewarded with a really gripping read which pays you the compliment of discussing complex ideas and emotions without patronising or offering glib solutions. I thought this an excellent book and I recommend it very warmly to anyone who likes an involving, intelligent, thoughtful and thought-provoking read.

Even though I finished this novel a few days ago, I'm still thinking about it. The ending is satisfyingly ambiguous, depending on whether you are an atheist or a theist. Even the central characters don't seem to know what to make of it. The possibility that there might be a religious dimension is so enigmatically drawn that neither Daniel nor Andrew seems to know how to respond to it, which makes their stories all the more convincing. I also liked the way The Blasphemer was not only multi-layered -- time shifts between 1917 and the present -- but also multi-themed. There are two main themes: what happens to an atheist who thinks he might have had a religious experience, and what happens to a loving relationship when one half fails to act selflessly to save the life of the other. Above all, I appreciated the way the author left the interpretations up to the reader: the longing for innocence, the recognition of human shortcoming, the shifting moods, from melancholy to euphoria and back. You do get a sense in both the past and the present narratives of the partially sighted leading the partially blind through a moral and spiritual maze, like blinded soldiers leading each other out of the trenches. One idea occurred to me, which was prompted by the name of the fictional London University college, Trinity. The trinity in the novel seems to be Philip as the father, Daniel as the son and Hamdi as the holy ghost. That would make Wetherby the devil. Perhaps that is reading too much into it, but not only did I find this an exhilarating read, zigzagging back and forth, but also a chilling and moving one, reducing me to tears in some of the First World War scenes. The odd thing is, I don't know whether it made me happy or sad, all I do know is that I found the journey extemely satisfying and I would like to go on it again.

This is that rare thing, a psychologically complex, finely crafted
literary novel that is as page turning as a thriller. Other reviewers
have discussed the plot and the characters in depth so I won't do the
same, but I would add that what I liked about it was the way the
author managed to weave profound ideas into the plot without them
seeming intrusive. There are big themes here, such as religion versus
Darwinism, and the meaning of cowardice. But it is also warm and
moving, especially in the way it tackles the breakdown of a marriage.
I also liked the way the momentum built towards the end, with the two
narratives -- the present day and the First World War -- finally
merging. I really recommend it. =