"...the guests in their turn...registering, for no good reason and almost without noticing it, the very texture of the past, the past that is irretrievable but at the same time somehow present, gone yet somehow here and now."

Banville's characters all seem to reside in a kind of nowhere, suspended between living and oblivion, not quite limbo, but not quite anything else either. There is no plot, and the author borrows characters from his previous books in what seems to me to be an exploration of memory (always one of Banville's quests) and of what is real.

Felix Mordaunt, just released from prison for murder, returns to visit his childhood home, where he finds an odd and eccentric bunch of folks wandering the halls, occasionally bumping up against one another, but not really connecting. Mordant is a luciferian presence who both attracts and repels the others.

The owner of the house has hired a biographer, also living in the house, to tell the story of his deceased, celebrated mathematician father, Adam Godley. The pedantic researcher becomes enmeshed in details about Godley's life, and struggles to separate fact from fiction.

The chapters alternate between characters, a device that emphasizes their feelings of being isolated and adrift. The novel finishes with a bizarre outdoor party, reminiscent of Alice's tea party, where a few more details emerge, but a lot is left unresolved.

Banville's writing is superb...archaic and ornate and perfectly timeless. There is plenty of smart humor and a wicked satire of academicians. But I was ultimately frustrated, partly because I wanted more story and partly because there were so many dangling ends. I understand this was intentional, and I think meant to reflect the ambivalence of life, but it left me vaguely unsatisfied.