Elegy for April: A Novel (Quirke Book 3)

This was my third of the Quirke series. Granted, Black (or Banville) writes very well, creating a highly atmospheric and moody mystery series with well-developed characters. Nevertheless, it doesn't take long to recognize recurring patterns. The protagonist, Quirke, and his daughter Phoebe, have a habit of sleeping with just about everyone they come across, at times defying logic or comprehension. By book 3, as the story progresses, it's almost comically predictable to see how both father and daughter invariable get themselves involved with new characters. Another feature: stories of incest here and there that gradually emerge as backdrop to the main plot. It's too bad since those devices are not necessary (unlike other authors who are limited in their abilities), and as much as I like this series, I am hesitant to pick up book 4 to have to read another variant of the same elements.

I have been reading the detective/pathologist genre for decades and this is my now my favorite series. All-time favorite. I love (not a term I throw about lightly) Black's prose. I can't remember the last time that I felt the need to read aloud passages from a novel to those around me. Decades, certainly. Several times in each of these books passages have been so LOL funny or just so beautifully stated that sharing was necessary and appreciated by those regaled. Plots meander a bit but only as much as necessary for character development - they are a big part of the books' charm. Even secondary players are so brilliantly drawn that they stand off the page, resplendent in all their flawed humanity. Early 50's Dublin is portrayed so vividly that I am transported as surely as if watching a Downton Abbey episode. My two, admittedly petty, issues are these: I don't know how to pronounce Quirke's name, a condition that made every reference to him jarring for my American brain until I decided upon 'Kirk' for simplicity. The other issue is that I'm sorry that I didn't find out about Black/Banville sooner. I can't imagine why I've not stumbled across this award-winning author before this late date.

Many of the very best mysteries are profoundly political. In digging deeply into what makes their characters tick, the writers locate the roots of their class origins and the wounds inflicted on them by their families, their neighbors, and society at large.Not convinced? Think about the sociology underlying Elizabeth George’s Inspector Lynley series . . . the vast power of the moneyed forces fought by V. I. Warshawski in Sara Paretsky’s novels . . . the legal battles between powerful institutions and hapless citizens in John Grisham’s work . . . the overtly political circumstances in John Sandford’s several dozen novels featuring Lucas Davenport, Virgil Flowers, and other protagonists.Now add the Quirke series by Benjamin Black, the pen name of the Booker Prize-winning Irish novelist John Banville. Elegy for April is the fourth of Black’s seven novels about the alcoholic Dublin pathologist named Quirke. (He has a first name, but we never learn it — just one example of the author’s sly humor.) The Quirke novels, all grounded in Dublin in the 1950s, explore the tight grip of the Catholic Church on Irish society and the crimes so often committed in her name. Quirke, though he has no official role as an investigator, is drawn into what usually prove to be murder cases by virtue of his family’s involvement. He collaborates with a senior police detective named Hackett, often outclassing him as an investigator.In Elegy for April, Quirke’s daughter, Phebe, complains that her friend April has disappeared. The story that ensues revolves around the young women’s circle of friends and April’s powerful and devout medical family, which includes Dublin’s leading pathologist (her brother) and the Minister of Health (her uncle). I won’t spoil the story by going any further into the plot.Though Banville insists he writes mysteries strictly for fun and profit, it’s clear that his famously brilliant literary style suffers not at all in the process. Here’s an example of what I mean: “he was received by the Minister’s private secretary, an oddly implausible person by the name of Ferriter, plump and shabby, with lank black hair and pendulous jowls.” Now, I ask you: how can any discerning reader fail to be charmed by prose like that?

The fly leaf of the book details that our lead character, Quirke, "encounters complicated and ugly truths about family savagery, Catholic ruthlessness, and race hatred. I agree except that the encounters are minimal and very superficial occurring for the most part in the last sixty pages of the book. Too little, too late to give the book much impact.In the two earlier novels, I have enjoyed the Quirke character and the Dublin setting in the 1950's which prompted me to read this third edition in the series. Although Black's prose is good, it is not as good as in the two previous novels. Nothing is very engaging in this book. Perhaps the author was not committed to writing this book because too much depth and scope were missing in every element in the book.I can only hope the missing elements and commitment to writing will reappear in the fourth edition of the series which is in my to read stack. Let's hope!

My third Quirke book, and I loved it even more than the first two. Quirke has been drying out, and of course he's telling himself he'll turn over a new leaf even though he knows perfectly well he's not only not addressed any of his 'issues' he's deliberately turned his back on them. But one of them, in the form of his daughter, who comes to him for help when her friend seems to have disappeared, will not be ignored.I love Quirke. I love his slow, lumbering inability to deal with life, and at the same time, his ability to see through shadows which obscure life from other people. He's helpless, but he doesn't need help. He could have been so many things, but what he's chosen to specialise in is being a failure - as a lover, a husband, a father and a doctor. In this book, he buys a car, a top of the range, fancy thing that challenges him in an odd way, like a woman. His driving is appalling and hilarious, as seen through the eyes of his terrified passengers, and this is another thing I love about the Quirke books, the contrast of dark and light.As with the previous two, we're left with a load more questions rather than answers, with fleeting, tantalising insights into the Quirke psyche that leave us desperate for more. How I resisted downloading the next one straight away I'm not quite sure, but I can guarantee it will be appearing on my Kindle really soon. If you expect murder mysteries, this is not your sort of book. If you like tortured souls, dark stories and a bit of sleuthing on the side, it is perfect, and I highly recommend it. But do read them in order, else you'll miss out.

Benjamin Black cannot be accused of over-plotting the third novel in the Quirke series. A doctor - April Latimer - has gone missing, and through not very much happening at all, Black peels back the layers of the story to finally reveal what has happened to her. The book is essentially a vehicle to explore Quirke's ongoing difficult relationships with drink, his daughter, and his brother-in-law. The writing is beautifully done, with fog-shrouded Dublin coming across in succinct, poetic phrases that add layers of atmosphere to the story. Black is as good as Ian Fleming in his ability to describe places with spare, telling words. The Quirke series is a refreshing change from the numerous fast-paced and violent crime novels that make up so much of the genre these days. Quirke is a flawed, highly believable character, and these books are more about people and motivations than the violence that often accompanies crime. Occasionally slow-paced, but highly recommended.

This is the third in the series of Quirke crime novels, and like its predecessors is set in 1950s Dublin. Once more the aptly named Quirke, pathologist, in cahoots with the redoubtable Inspector Hackett unravels the complexities of an original and intriguing case, triggered by the disappearance of a young woman associated with Quirke’s daughter. Phoebe, the daughter, has her own story to be told. She is a most refreshing character, who adds a great deal to all the stories, never so much perhaps as here, where she is more directly involved with the events of the plot.What most specially sets this series of books apart from so many crime novels is the texture of the writing. Black, as one would hope from someone whose more obviously literary work written under his true name of John Banville has won awards and plaudits, has impressive descriptive powers and deals with relationships in a far more subtle way than is often found in the genre. I have become increasingly addicted to the Quirke novels and each seems to me stronger and more gripping than the one it follows. Strongly recommended.

This was my first Quirke (indeed, my first Banville), and perhaps for that reason, it took a while for the setting to establish itself in my mind's eye. But once I realised this was 1950s Dublin, all came into focus and began to make much more sense. Perhaps I should have started at the beginning.Anyway, although I concede that the plot is rather gentle for this genre, at least for the 2013 reader, the writing is beautiful, far superior to that of most of the crime novels with which I spend my time, and Quirke is a pleasure to meet.As long as you know you're getting a crime mystery, rather than a police procedural thriller, you won't be disappointed by this. A whole world is convincingly presented, and I'll certainly be heading back there soon ...

Banville undoubtedly writes beautifully and many a sentence causes me to pause to admire its beauty. But the finely-tuned prose almost gets in the way of story, character and atmosphere.Quirke remains likeable, although a recent stay at a drying-out clinic has not cured his thirst for booze (white wine doesn't count as `a drink', according to Quirke; useful to know).The plot seems perfunctory, almost irrelevant: a friend of Quirke's neurotic daughter Phoebe has gone missing and evidence at her flat suggests that this may be following an abortion. Her family, who have long disowned her, are important people -- her uncle a government minister -- with a family mythology to uphold. Quirke, brought up in an orphanage, is condescendingly dismissed as not understanding such things.