Death with Conversations: Javier Marias, THE INFATUATIONS

One of the character in Javier Marias' latest novel claims that "once you've finished a novel, what happened in it is of little importance and soon forgotten. What matters are the possibilities and ideas that the novel's imaginary plot communicates to us and infuses us with." Characters don't necessarily speak for their authors, and that's especially likely to be true in this case, but all the same the description is fitting, if not for most novels, then certainly for The Infatuations. The plot is that of a thriller: a solitary young woman becomes involved by chance in the mystery surrounding the death of a man she didn't know but had often watched eating with his wife in a cafe the young woman also frequented. But this is a "literary" thriller, which means that the plot is as implausible as in an ordinary thriller, but less complicated and intriguing. If I described any more of it, you'd know almost everything.

The theory, of course, is that a literary thriller makes up for narrative deficiencies by psychological or thematic depth-- the "possibilities and ideas" factor-- and by elegant prose. Marias offers the latter but not the former. This is a novel defined by its characters' long-winded philosophical ponderings and dialogues, the kind where everyone sounds the same because they're all speaking with the voice of the author. It's a fine voice, the kind that piles up long sentences that nonetheless remain easily to follow and captivating, but what it has to say is rather less surprising than it seems to imagine. Yes, grief is profound but ultimately transient; yes, people are adept at justifying their own crimes and failings; yes, infatuation inspires embarrassing impulses even in those who are aware of their irrational state. And yes, we can never really know whether others are lying to us. These are timeless and powerful themes; however, their potency depends not on artful generalized expression but on their embodiment in complicated yet credible characters, and Marias is far more interested in style than in characterization. His vertiginous sentences may be a delight to read, but the flood of additional clauses elaborates without adding nuance-- they have mass, but not weight. Only occasionally does an aperçu inspire the sense of unexpected truth toward which they all so evidently aspire.

What saves the book from collapsing under its unfulfilled ambitions is the protagonist, Maria. Known to the couple in the cafe as "the Prudent Young Woman," she's the closest thing to a rich character the novel has to offer, and does end up presenting a quietly effective study in how outward lives can fail to reflect the intensity of the impulses and desires storming beneath the surface. She's not a rounded character in the traditional sense, but her thoughtful evaluations of her own behavior and those of the people she meets do suggest a distinctive personality that grounds the fanciful narrative. The Infatuations may be too much in the familiar vein of the postmodern novel about truth and deception, but it offers small compensations that balance its larger failings.