NATIONAL BESTSELLERSHORTLISTED FOR THE CWA HISTORICAL DAGGER AWARDA Globe and Mail Best Book of the YearA New York Times Editors’ Choice Pick“Banville sets up and then deftly demolishes the Agatha Christie format…superbly rich and sophisticated.”—New York Times Book Review The incomparable Booker Prize winner’s next great crime novel—the story of a family whose secrets resurface when a parish … format…superbly rich and sophisticated.”—New York Times Book Review
The incomparable Booker Prize winner’s next great crime novel—the story of a family whose secrets resurface when a parish priest is found murdered in their ancestral home
Detective Inspector St. John Strafford has been summoned to County Wexford to investigate a murder. A parish priest has been found dead in Ballyglass House, the family seat of the aristocratic, secretive Osborne family.
The year is 1957 and the Catholic Church rules Ireland with an iron fist. Strafford—flinty, visibly Protestant and determined to identify the murderer—faces obstruction at every turn, from the heavily accumulating snow to the culture of silence in the tight-knit community he begins to investigate.
As he delves further, he learns the Osbornes are not at all what they seem. And when his own deputy goes missing, Strafford must work to unravel the ever-expanding mystery before the community’s secrets, like the snowfall itself, threaten to obliterate everything.
Beautifully crafted, darkly evocative and pulsing with suspense, Snow is “the Irish master” (New Yorker) John Banville at his page-turning best.
Don’t miss John Banville’s next novel, April in Spain!
more
Ok but not great.
This is a solid procedural, with interesting characters, but the best part is how this guy writes. His prose is so good it almost distracts from the plot, which I suppose it did when I kept reading passages aloud to my wife.
John Banville, an Irish novelist, has won many European and British literary prizes. In addition, he has published crime fiction under the pseudonym Benjamin Black featuring an Irish pathologist in Dublin named Quirke. I’ve read a couple of the Quirke novels and found them engaging as crime novels.
Snow is a crime novel featuring a fusty bachelor detective named St. John (pronounced sinjun, as he has to tell most people when he meets them) Strafford. Detective Strafford is based in Dublin but spends a miserable three days over Christmas in a blizzard in County Wexford solving the murder of a Catholic priest.
The narrative is engaging and entertaining for 237 of the 299 pages of the book. I enjoyed it and looked forward to getting back to it up to that point. But the last sixty pages were a frustrating and fundamentally boring wrap-up because inexplicably Banville, who had to that point developed a complex crime plot, decided that his readers were dolts who needed to be led by the hand to understand the mystery. On page 237 he inserts an “Interlude” in first person, spoken by the killer, that explains everything about why he deserved to be murdered and exposes who the very likely murderer is. Then after those eighteen pages of mostly uninteresting explanation, Banville returns to the original third-person narrative for thirty or so pages in which the mystery is solved according to what the reader has expected from the “Interlude.”
But no, not so fast Kowolski. In an added thirteen-page “Coda,” Banville presents a scene in which the characters explain, once again, what the perceptive reader has already perceived the likelihood of, that though it should have been the expected suspect, it was actually their fairly obvious accomplice who did the deed.
I don’t know why John Banville would do this to his readers. All I can say is the old adage, nobody gets it right every time.
I felt like reading an old-fashioned but atmospheric and suspenseful mystery novel and found it in the book “Winter”. The characters are compelling, the location fascinating and the murder captivating. I will read more of this author.
A Dark and Disturbing Read. This novel begins as a detective story in a quaint Irish village in the 1950s. The book opens with a murder on the local estate, but as the story progresses, the plot becomes darker and more disturbing. The main character is a somewhat bland and depressed detective whose narration increasingly makes the story feel like a sort of nightmare. The end of the book contains a series of plot twists, which reveal scandalous abuses and corruption within the church. This book is more than a murder mystery. It is a challenge to readers to discuss some difficult and disturbing issues.
The book is well written, but because for me, it’s too graphic in parts, I will only give it 3 stars.
Somewhat predictable but well-written.
Wonderful writing
very well written mystery. Both the plot and character are well developed.
It was unusual.
Honest look at the harm done by the Irish Catholic Church during the 1950s to young children. Sexual predatory priests were even more prominent then than today.
A superbly written, detective-led murder mystery which takes place in the grounds of a creepy, mansion house. The novel is set in the 1950s and cloaked with ice and snow. The detective, DI St. John Strafford (not Stafford) who doesn’t look like a policeman and has links to the upper classes, is sent to Ballyglass House where he encounters Colonel Osborne. The Colonel, complete with his nail-brush moustache is the sort who would have stopped to take tea, even during the siege of Khartoum, and seems far more worried about what the neighbours will say, rather than how it is that the mutilated, dead body of Father Tom is lying in his library. Together with the unfortunate looking Sergeant Jenkins, whose name everyone seems to have difficulty remembering, Strafford investigates whilst the family close rank.
Strafford notes that the family members are presented as though they are characters in a play; an eccentric stepmother and a reprehensible brother, Harbison, who is a heavy drinker and has his sights set on Mr Sugar, a horse. The Colonel’s daughter, Lettie, claims to be on the side of the ‘weasels and stoats’ and is cruel to the ungainly stable boy, Fonsey, who lives a sorry existence on the grounds, but abhors killing animals. I disliked all of these characters immensely, but Banville’s insertion of their potted histories allows a bit of room for pity. My favourite character was Peggy and her easy and open nature breathed a sense of warmth into the story.
There is humour, different whiskey depending on your religion, but there’s also lots of sadness which emanates from the characters and mingles with the icy coldness and bleakness of the weather – snow is everywhere with ‘flakes the size of communion wafers’. Strafford is a lonely character, forced to drink whiskey and lemonade in an attempt to fit into his surroundings, and who only found himself in the profession because of his curiosity although, he reflects several times throughout the narrative that he should have picked a career as a lawyer. He cannot help but portray good manners at all times, but his loneliness underpins everything and perhaps sharpens his senses, indeed, Strafford’s feeling of foreboding is proved right on one occasion. This is a world where nothing can be set apart from religion and the meeting with Archbishop McQuaid leaves a bad taste in the mouth, and where past actions, although not punished at the time, never truly disappear.
The writing is outstanding, and I clung to every carefully chosen word. Disturbing, haunting and absorbing but with a sting in the tail.
“The body is in the library” is the first sentence of the first chapter. One would expect Miss Marple or Poirot to enter in the scene. One would be mistaken.
It’s County Wexford, Ireland, 1957. Shortly before Christmas, a priest is murdered and mutilated. DI St. John Stafford (pronounced Sin-Jin) is dispatched from Dublin to investigate by Hackett, who is now the Police Chief. Dr. Quirke is nowhere to be seen. The mention of Quirke and Hackett will alert Quirke fans that the themes are darker than typical mysteries.
Ostensibly, the characters are of the quirky variety typical in British mysteries. But read on and you will find there are subterranean currents that explain and bind them.
It’s beautifully written in the characteristic Banville/Black voice and a beautifully constructed mystery hitting all the notes with a satisfying ending.
Highly recommend.
A parish priest is found murdered in Ballyglass House, the family home of the Osborne’s. DI St. John Strafford is investigating and he’s finding that there are plenty of secrets that no one is sharing.
The year is 1957 and the Catholic Church rules over all. Strafford isn’t well liked because he’s a Protestant. He faces obstruction at every turn.
The suspects are many, most of them have some issue or another. The step-daughter acts crazy … the step-mother is a mouse … the man of the house seems manipulative and doesn’t appreciate anyone talking to him. There’s also a house person, a cook, and a young man who lives in the woods and knows more than he lets on.
There was no mystery where this one was going … the subject of the Church’s hold on almost everyone, and what happened to those children who were trusted to their care …. was handled in a careful fashion without graphic information. There was no suspense as it didn’t take long to point a finger at the person responsible for the murder.
Many thanks to the author / Harlequin / Hanover Square Press / Netgalley for the digital copy of SNOW. Read and reviewed voluntarily, opinions expressed here are unbiased and entirely my own.
I will never reach his heights. I do not pretend to imitate his style. However, I am more inspired by John Banville’s writing than that of any other “mystery” novelist alive, and this by furlongs. I could care less about any criticism as long as I understand in my heart how much I strive towards his work. He is the greatest mystery writer alive. He is among the greatest who has ever lived. No one compares.
4 stars for an entertaining read about a murder mystery in rural Ireland in the 1950s. This mystery is as much about attitudes in Irish society as it is a murder mystery. A respected Catholic parish priest is found dead in the house of a local Protestant country squire. Religious attitudes and the power of the RC church in 1950s play a prominent role in this book. Detective Inspector Strafford is called in from Dublin to investigate. He and Detective Sergeant Jenkins start to investigate and slowly uncover a tangled web of secrets and lies. The murder was rather gruesome, and there is a pedophile character in the book. This may not be appropriate for cozy mystery fans.
However, the author’s description of people and Irish society is full of rich imagery, with a sharp eye for detail.
Some quotes:
Country squire: “Colonel Osborne looked to be in his early fifties, lean and leathery, with a nail brush mustache and sharp ice-blue eyes. He was of middle height, and would have been taller if he hadn’t been markedly bow-legged-the result perhaps, Strafford though sardonically, of all that riding to the hounds-and he walked with a curious gait, at once rolling and rickety, like an orangutan that had something wrong with its knees.”
Food: “Strafford smiled weakly. ‘Oh, I always think steak and kidney pud is better the second day, don’t you?’ He felt noble and brave. He could not understand how the kidneys of a cow had come to be regarded as food fit for human consumption.”
Conversation between Strafford and the local B&B owner: “I read when I have time.
“Ah but you should
make time. The book is one of our great inventions of our species.”
Winter: “Frost laden trees, ghost-white and stark, reared up at him in the headlights, their boughs thrown upwards as if in fright.”
Thanks to Faber and Faber for sending me this eARC through NetGalley.
I had never read any of John Banville’s work before, so I had no idea what to expect. But the book swirled me into its vortex and completely absorbed my attention with its evocative, haunting prose and wry-voiced Detective Inspector St. John Strafford.
I really enjoyed Banville’s voice. The wry tone works well for this type of police procedural, with its slow, almost leisurely pace, and rich characterizations. It is by turns humorous and bitter, and its bitterness is savage. But it’s always clear-eyed and sharply observant of details, both those of the physical world and those of human foibles and quirks.
His detective, Inspector Strafford, isn’t good at solving puzzles. His chief characterizes him as a “trudger”, and an unimaginative one at that. This is an interesting and unusual choice for a detective novel’s protagonist. The character is hampered not only by external forces (the snow, the secrecy of the Osbornes) but by himself.
Despite this, he’s a winning character. I enjoyed how his mind works. He might not enjoy his work. He might not be suited to finding a priest’s killer. But he still desires to do his duty. The truth matters to him. Though he knows the facts will be buried, thanks to the long reach of the Church, it’s only a matter of how deeply they are buried. And he still must try to keep them buried them. And so he trudges on.
When he arrives at the country manor, he finds that the priest’s body has been “tidied up” by the estate owner, Colonel Osborne. Crime scene integrity be damned, certain points of decorum must be observed. I almost heard the voice of the collective dead Osborne ancestors saying, Leaving a murder victim the way it was found, why, that wouldn’t be proper, my dear. That this hinders the investigation and aids the murderer matters not one whit.
The other characters are, as Strafford observes, all certain “types.” There’s the ex-military Colonel, all stiff-upper lip and decorum, fussing about the untidy crime scene. His rather pathetic, possibly “mad” second wife, doped up on sedatives. The unhappy son Dominick, dutifully studying medicine when he’d rather do anything else. The equally unhappy daughter Lettie with her cutting, vicious remarks, hiding her expulsion from school from her father. The black sheep, fast-talking, flashy brother-in-law, banned from the Colonel’s house. The country doctor, stopping by to visit his patient each day.
It’s as though each of them is playing a role in a play. But each is playing their part too well, too convincingly to truly be convincing.
While Banville sprinkles in a few red herrings, the mystery isn’t full of twists. The motive is fairly transparent (to readers, at least), and after a while, the list of possible killers narrows down to certain characters. It’s easy to grow impatient with Strafford’s blindness to what seems obvious to us in the 21st century. But I think the time period might have something to do with this. It’s almost impossible for someone living in 2020 to realize how things were in 1957 Ireland, back before certain horrible truths tumbled out into the daylight, never completely swept back into darkness again. But before? Strafford wasn’t alone in his unwitting blindness.
Banville held my interest throughout the mystery. Everything flows beautifully: the characters and setting and story are integrated seamlessly, the sign of a masterful writer. Throughout the novel, I took notes on the prose.
Spoiler alert: Toward the end, there is a chapter with some explicit sexual violence. While Banville handles it well, using insinuations more than graphic description, it is a stomach churning few pages to read. The author crawls into the mind of a predator and shows us all too well how such a person justifies their actions, and how complicit those around them are in hiding the abuse. It’s horrifying. For those triggered by sexual violence, this might be too hard to handle.
The book isn’t for everyone–what book is?–but Snow is a mystery for long winter nights, curled up by a crackling fire while the fictional Inspector Strafford braves the cold and snow to find the killer.
All in all, this won’t be the last book by John Banville that I read.
Note: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions are my own.
We’re 1957 in rural Ireland. In the mansion of protestant colonel Osborne, the body of a catholic priest is found in the library. The house friend has been stabbed and gelded. From the start, there’s pressure from the archbishop’s palace to treat the whole thing very discreetly and classify it as an accident (he fell from the stairs) and the details that must not come out, imagine the scandal and the neighbours.
It’s DI Strafford; a member of the same aristocratic minority who is dispatched from Dublin to handle the inquiry. He has the feeling as if he’s landed in a theatre play with everyone in the house an actor, dressed up to say their lines. Will he give in to the pressure from the omnipresent Catholic Church or will his quest for the truth kick against some holy shins?
With a snow storm brewing up, everybody is cooped up inside apart from Strafford’s (with an R) assistant who’s gone missing.
It starts out as a classic murder mystery. How much closer can you come than a body in the library of a remote country house amidst a snow storm? It has a very slow pace as befits the period but it doesn’t take itself too serious with several references to Agatha Christie and Poirot.
Strafford is an enigmatic figure. He’s a man who feels uncomfortable with his place and role in this life. He became a policeman to rebel against his father but asks himself now if he would have been happier if he’d become a barrister as his dad wanted. He also recently split up with his girlfriend and stands very uncomfortable in life. He thinks things through and through but doesn’t relate well to people. They make him feel awkward. He’s an outcast for the gentry but also a weird element in the police force. I couldn’t feel very much sympathy for this aristocrat despite him having a very strong moral compass. I think he’s a rather sad man. Because of his thinking he’s always on the outside looking in but not being part of what’s going on. Well, that’s how I see him, someone else might think differently.
To 21st century readers, a dead castrated priest means usually just 1 thing, and points to a very distinct motive. But here we are in 50’s Ireland where the church influences and holds power over almost every aspect of everyday life. A murdered priest just does not happen, let alone one mutilated in this manner! As an historical and social document, it paints a bleak picture of post-civil war Ireland, where the Catholic Church had its claws on politics, press, police and anything else you can think of. And how they condoned abuse and swept it under the carpet. That is when the people dared to make a complaint as most didn’t dare to speak out against a priest. Such things were common knowledge but no one would speak publicly about it. The best outcome would be that the offender was placed in another parish, where he’d go his merry way again.
I’ve always wondered how the correlation between pedophiles and priests (of any denomination) works. Do they become priests in order to get in contact with children because they’re pedos or is it the other way round and do they discover this perversion only when they’re already priests? No matter what the answer is, YOU DON’T TOUCH CHILDREN!!! And for those who say that they can’t help those feelings. Well, that’s the lamest excuse of every rapist and killer. You don’t have to act on those feelings. Seek help. So many people have feelings that they don’t act on. They know very well that what they do is out of order or they wouldn’t try covering up their crimes. I don’t want to call for vigilante justice, but the courts should be able to order compulsory castration after serving prison time.
I want to say that there are no graphic descriptions of these crimes. It’s told very tastefully with the act self, told off screen. This is in stark contrast with the minute descriptions of people, surroundings, and landscape that can be found in the rest of the book. You could almost draw (well, those with a talent for sketching can) the people when Banville describes someone’s peculiar face or the clothing they wear or put on. It’s really beautifully worded. So it certainly fits into the literary fiction box as well as being a police procedural and a murder mystery. It’s a fairly simple straightforward story with subtle layers of historical social comments that’s written in a very beautiful language.
I thank Netgalley and Faber & Faber for the free ARC of this book the provided; this is my honest and unbiased review of it.