Thriller asks us about the secrets we keep
The Sun’s book club is discussing Owen Sheers’s novel I Saw a Man. We will be chatting online with Sheers when he is in town for the Vancouver Writers Fest from Oct. 20 to 26, exact date to be announced.
Plan to join the conversation at vancouversun.com/books.
Monique Sherrett: I Saw a Man is described as a literary thriller, which Ian mused on early in this discussion. What does that really mean? In this case it suggests that the book is literary fiction versus commercial fiction. The inner workings of the mind and the emotions of the main characters are at the heart of the tale versus the plot.
The plot is about a man who sneaks into his neighbour’s house, shaping the thriller aspect of the novel. So the emotional plot lines are tragic versus comic.
We have an experience with serious consequences — Michael goes into Josh and Samantha’s house and tragedy ensues. But the book isn’t about that tragedy: it’s about the emotional spiral into darkness that Michael experiences, and has been experiencing since the death of his wife. The question for me is whether there will be a redemption. But does a half-baked confession equal a confession? At the end of the novel, Michael is still hiding from the consequences of his actions, which suggests an instability that is reminiscent of the subjects of his previous works.
I’m not convinced that Michael overcomes anything. He’s the lone wolf, always acting in his own self-interest, following his own trails.
Initially he’s presented as a rising star. Brotherhoods is a successful book, but his next book about Oliver, The Man Who Broke the Mirror is described as a portrait of a man in emotional and intellectual extremis. This is Michael as well. If Oliver is described as a thinker and drinker burning brightly as he burnt out, then the same can be said of Michael.
By the end of the book, his not a rising star but a falling meteor (or given the twist at the end, a bomb about to drop).
Julia Denholm: I like Monique’s question (does a half- baked confession equal a confession?) because to me it’s central to the definition of this as a literary thriller rather than something else. (As a side note, I’d be interested in having a discussion about such categories someday. Is plot versus inner workings what distinguishes the commercial from the literary? Where does each of us draw the line?)
If we agree with Monique’s simple but practical distinction, and I do, then I suspect there is no redemption for Michael, whose grand gesture will of course create tragic repercussions for himself, for Josh, and for Samantha. I wonder about Michael’s motivation. Just whose soul is his confession good for?
As you all know, I thoroughly enjoyed this novel. We all have secrets, though probably not as big as Michael’s. Should we tell? Will it help? I do love a moral quandary.
Ian Weir: It seems to me that Michael is aiming for something very different than redemption. What he’s after is self-justification, and in a sense the entire novel can be read as an amoral (at best!) man’s carefully crafted attempt to present himself as a victim, much more sinned against than sinning.
That, to me, goes right to the heart of what makes this book so powerful, and also so chilling. Because in a way that’s what we’re all doing, isn’t it? We’re telling ourselves consoling stories about our own fundamental goodness, whether it comes to our generosity in welcoming a handful of refugees or our blamelessness in the collateral damage caused by bombs dropped in our name.
Sorry to get political here — or hey, maybe I’m not! — but it’s been really extraordinary to watch the key themes of the novel playing out on the nightly news.