The Light of Day (Paperback)

The story takes place over the course of a day in the head of middle-aged George Webb, the aforementioned ex-cop turned private investigator. His interior monologue takes quite a while to get used to, lurching around in fits and starts, back and forth in time, with little glimpses here and there. This is a canny writing job of capturing the fractured nature of thought, which is rarely so kind as to adhere to complete direct syntaxóbut it also makes for jarring reading. The style only really works because it's a special day for Webb: the anniversary of the day a client killed her husband. Not just any client, but the client he's become completely obsessed with and visits every two weeks in jail.

Over the course of this emotionally distressing day, Webb's thoughts gradually reveal not only the story of his client's crime, but the story of his dismissal from the police, as well as his childhood, and his relationship with his daughter. Swift is careful to release only micrograms of information at a time, so that the complete portrait of Webb's life accumulates in fragments, like a pointillist painting gradually coming alive as the dots mount up. But for all this coyness, there's no real suspense in the narrative, events proceed along an inevitable track dictated by fate. It's heavily suggested early on that Webb was unjustly dismissed from the police, and it turns out he was. Webb's career in "matrimonial " detective work turns out to be linked to his childhood. Webb's obsession with his murderess client is based on... well... nothing really, it just inexplicably exists (as in a film noir). Ditto with any explanation for the client's crimeóit's just what fate had in store, and that's all there is to it. Ultimately, all of this is rather unsatisfying, if stylistically well-written. I've long wanted to read one of Swift's books, but this doesn't seem to be a good one to start with.

The book turns the conventions of the Crime genre on their head: the motive for Bob Nash's murder, and the circumstances of the crime, are essentially clear from very early in the novel. The real mystery is the developing relationship between Sarah and George, and just how George has arrived at the unlikely position in which he finds himself. As he muses over and tries to make sense of his past life, George's motivations slowly become clear to the reader.

Swift gives George a compelling voice: the recurrence and repetition of telling little phrases - "What else is civilisation for?"; "If [whatever] isn't an unfortunate word"; "The points on our map"; "Matrimonial Work" - build a rhythm into his narrative that has a big cumulative effect.

So, why only four stars? Well, while this is undoubtedly a beautifully written and often a moving book, I left it feeling just a little short-changed. Maybe it's just too beautifully written for its violent subject matter: I missed the rawness and suppressed rage found in some of his earlier novels, particularly "Waterland" which remains (for me anyway) the best thing he has done. George is perhaps just too nice a guy to make a really involving central character. Also, "The Light of Day" is inevitably a rather static book, with the narrative ruminating over a single violent act which is already well in the past at the novel's opening. In many ways, the novel makes a virtue of this stasis - it is very much about patience; keeping faith; standing watch... For me, though, this isn't quite Swift at his faultless best. All the same, it undoubtedly remains a fine novel and an undeniably good read.

As George's recollections, memories, and observations expand, however, we gradually come to know him and his past, including his relationship with his father, his own broken marriage and the circumstances surrounding it, his alienated daughter, his womanizing, the scandal which has resulted in his leaving the police force, and his decision to specialize in "matrimonial work." We learn, too, that George's client, Mrs. Nash, is now in jail, the reasons for this unfolding even more gradually, as we come to know her, her husband Bob, and the privileged life they've led. Always, however, our opinions of these characters and their relationships are colored by George's point of view, and we, as objective observers, learn as much about them from what George does not say as we do by what he does say.

All of George's memories are concerned with the vulnerability of people who are in love, as Swift raises questions about whether we choose the people we love, or whether we are chosen by them. Does love just happen? What makes it last? What happens to lovers who are "unchosen"? And can we love too much? Although a mystery story is not usually the framework for such a serious, philosophical analysis of love in all its permutations, Swift manages to make this work through his beautifully wrought character study of George, buffeted every which way by the loves in his life. In the lean, unemphatic prose style he first employed in Last Orders, Graham Swift presents a sensitive investigation of love with all its mysteries and ineffable sadness. Mary Whipple