splendid, language alive, crisp with no excesses. Banville dids you into the inner workings of a complex mind suprisingly accessible. The sounds and colours crowd the space and paints a masterful story. Banville almost have an unrestricted access to the common soul and thought. What is remarkable is how he expresses it at times slow, almost frozen and naturally fluid at others. Economical and poetic in his prose, Grand, difficult to immitate. Eddie. ( )

A novel of introspection, and monologue; the ending will jar you from your seat. ( )

Great narration that happily plays with your sensibilities throughout. The ending was perfect. this is the Banville novel that should have won the Booker. ( )

The Book of Evidence brought to mind Albert Camus' The Stranger, for the tone as much as for the plot. Banville's Freddie reaches a very different conclusion about the state of life (and his life in particular) than does Camus' Meursault, but his journey bears more than a few similarities. Both are estranged (if only practically speaking) from their family; both murder seemingly without reason or cause.

Freddie differs from Meursault in that his book of evidence is presented not as proof of his crime, as one might initially suppose, but as proof of his life. He is working to affirm his life, his existence, his being. Freddie's crime was a desperate attempt to stake his existence in a life he felt increasingly alienated from.

Banville also invokes Nabokov's Lolita by creating a character whom you should absolutely despise, but somehow cannot. When Freddie isn't murdering helpless, dumb servant girls, he's creating serious trouble for his family and generally being arrogant and aloof. Yet there is something in him that is so absurdly human that you can't help feel a twinge of sympathy and--even worse!--empathy for him. At the end, Banville has created a character who is uncomfortably easy to identify with, and that is a tremendous feat in itself. ( )

I just this second finished Banville's The Book of Evidence.....the allusions and elbow in the ribs humor of the author paying homage to Lolita/Vladimir Nabokov are just hilarious. His prose and humor are second only to Nabokov IMO.
Is Freddie an unreliable narrator? Hmmmm, I'm not even sure now, but in the end I had to believe him. He forgets names left and right, so makes up his own, is amoral......in a sense. Will he attempt to redeem himself? You have to read to the last page to be sure. In spite of the very hideousness of his crime, you almost, I say almost have to like and feel sorry for Freddie. Bloke didn't have a chance to begin with, did he? ( )