Truth: A Novel (edition 2010)

I really enjoyed this book. The language was sparse and there were many times that I couldnt understand what was happening and then suddenly it became clear and I thought WOW that was intense. The characters reminded me of many Australian men of the baby boomer generation (yes you Dad) especially in the way that you are never really sure of what they are thinking but you can be sure of their actions. It was a challenge but one I know I will repeat with more of Temples' work. ( )

I don’t often read thrillers or crime fiction but Truth is how I would like them all to be.

It did take a little getting used to – the many characters, the short (sometimes half-) sentences, the cop discourse. I always enjoy reading fiction that is set where I live – and that’s a rare thing. I most often read of London, Paris and many, many small towns in the vast U.S. of A. But Melbourne? Very rarely and I got a kick out of it.

The protagonist, Inspector Stephen Villani, is the Head of Homicide and working cases that shows the dark side of suburban life. Villani is a complex character with personal issues that affect his work and has a family that is affected by his work. He is plagued by the ‘cop oath’ that questions every move he makes. He is ‘connected’ to other cops whether he likes it or not. Villani tells it how it is which can either get him promoted or get him fired. It can go either way. The novel sits is a mirky fog:

"Villani woke, fully dressed, unrefreshed, as if from a brief fainting spell, the new day was grey in the east window, the city was making its discordant birth cries."

For me, Temple is the textbook definition of ‘show don’t tell’ writing. Villani, strangely, continues a friendly relationship with Rose, the mother of a criminal who was shot dead by Villani’s squad. The banter between the two is delightful:

"After a while, Rose said, ‘Kids. You don’t want to blame yourself, do you? God knows, you done your best.’
‘What if you haven’t done your best?’
‘Me?’
‘No, me.’
‘Well, you’re not a mum.’
‘No,’ said Villani. ‘That lets me off then.’"

The character of Villani came through very clearly – the cynicism, the helplessness, the obsessiveness toward his job. The ‘show don’t tell’ writing style swam through the entire book. Villani meets Max Hendry, a high-profile entrepreneur at a party:

"They shook hands. They were the same height. Hendry had light eyes, disconcerting, the colour of shallow water over clean sand."

Truth was a page-turner. Another tick from me for contemporary fiction. I am now keen to read Temple’s Jack Irish series. ( )

I don’t often read thrillers or crime fiction but Truth is how I would like them all to be.

It did take a little getting used to – the many characters, the short (sometimes half-) sentences, the cop discourse. I always enjoy reading fiction that is set where I live – and that’s a rare thing. I most often read of London, Paris and many, many small towns in the vast U.S. of A. But Melbourne? Very rarely and I got a kick out of it.

The protagonist, Inspector Stephen Villani, is the Head of Homicide and working cases that shows the dark side of suburban life. Villani is a complex character with personal issues that affect his work and has a family that is affected by his work. He is plagued by the ‘cop oath’ that questions every move he makes. He is ‘connected’ to other cops whether he likes it or not. Villani tells it how it is which can either get him promoted or get him fired. It can go either way. The novel sits is a mirky fog:

"Villani woke, fully dressed, unrefreshed, as if from a brief fainting spell, the new day was grey in the east window, the city was making its discordant birth cries."

For me, Temple is the textbook definition of ‘show don’t tell’ writing. Villani, strangely, continues a friendly relationship with Rose, the mother of a criminal who was shot dead by Villani’s squad. The banter between the two is delightful:

"After a while, Rose said, ‘Kids. You don’t want to blame yourself, do you? God knows, you done your best.’
‘What if you haven’t done your best?’
‘Me?’
‘No, me.’
‘Well, you’re not a mum.’
‘No,’ said Villani. ‘That lets me off then.’"

The character of Villani came through very clearly – the cynicism, the helplessness, the obsessiveness toward his job. The ‘show don’t tell’ writing style swam through the entire book. Villani meets Max Hendry, a high-profile entrepreneur at a party:

"They shook hands. They were the same height. Hendry had light eyes, disconcerting, the colour of shallow water over clean sand."

Truth was a page-turner. Another tick from me for contemporary fiction. I am now keen to read Temple’s Jack Irish series. ( )

I don’t often read thrillers or crime fiction but Truth is how I would like them all to be.

It did take a little getting used to – the many characters, the short (sometimes half-) sentences, the cop discourse. I always enjoy reading fiction that is set where I live – and that’s a rare thing. I most often read of London, Paris and many, many small towns in the vast U.S. of A. But Melbourne? Very rarely and I got a kick out of it.

The protagonist, Inspector Stephen Villani, is the Head of Homicide and working cases that shows the dark side of suburban life. Villani is a complex character with personal issues that affect his work and has a family that is affected by his work. He is plagued by the ‘cop oath’ that questions every move he makes. He is ‘connected’ to other cops whether he likes it or not. Villani tells it how it is which can either get him promoted or get him fired. It can go either way. The novel sits is a mirky fog:

"Villani woke, fully dressed, unrefreshed, as if from a brief fainting spell, the new day was grey in the east window, the city was making its discordant birth cries."

For me, Temple is the textbook definition of ‘show don’t tell’ writing. Villani, strangely, continues a friendly relationship with Rose, the mother of a criminal who was shot dead by Villani’s squad. The banter between the two is delightful:

"After a while, Rose said, ‘Kids. You don’t want to blame yourself, do you? God knows, you done your best.’
‘What if you haven’t done your best?’
‘Me?’
‘No, me.’
‘Well, you’re not a mum.’
‘No,’ said Villani. ‘That lets me off then.’"

The character of Villani came through very clearly – the cynicism, the helplessness, the obsessiveness toward his job. The ‘show don’t tell’ writing style swam through the entire book. Villani meets Max Hendry, a high-profile entrepreneur at a party:

"They shook hands. They were the same height. Hendry had light eyes, disconcerting, the colour of shallow water over clean sand."

Truth was a page-turner. Another tick from me for contemporary fiction. I am now keen to read Temple’s Jack Irish series. ( )

This isn't a book to read in multiple sittings - but unfortunately this is the way I encountered it. There is a large cast, many mentioned only once or twice as the main character reflects on his career; several of the characters have similar names, adding to the confusion. Perhaps this is an intentional device, so that we feel Villani's sense of despair at the the endless parade of faces of criminals and victims. Perhaps we, like the protagonist, are meant to be unsure whether a name thrown into the mix belongs to a friend or a foe, a villain or an ally. For me it made the book a little frustrating as I tried to piece together all sorts of loose ends - again, like the Head of Homicide at the heart of the story. Temple's style, with lots of sentence fragments and irrelevant musings, made the journey even more taxing.

Don't get me wrong - I enjoyed the book, and never really considered putting it aside. It's one I should read again to do it justice, because I feel a bit mean giving it only three-and-a-half stars (I have to give it 4 here because we can't do half stars) but I don't think it is quite up to the standard of The Broken Shore. Still, it's head and shoulders above the teeming mass of crime fiction, and reinforces Temple as one of Australia's best writers. ( )