John Banville’s passion for writing and editing shines through in Las singularidades (Alfaguara), a novel that laces sharp irony with vivid character studies. In this recent work, Banville appears to disclose his own sense of finality, suggesting that the serious portion of his literary career may be closed, though the detective novels published under the pseudonym Benjamin Black are not included in that statement.
In the back-cover copy as if it were a promotional line, Banville argues that the book gathers all his major concerns and characters into one unified whole. The effect is a self-contained summation of the author’s most important themes, a deliberate collage that invites readers to trace connections across his celebrated novels.
The narrative opens with a man returning to his childhood home under a fresh identity. A backward glance reveals Banville’s fascination with time, a concept he dramatizes through a physicist associated with a theory about time known as Brahma. In that old house, other lives intersect, and the true protagonist becomes time itself. Readers may wonder whether the returning figure, Freddie Montgomery, uses the past to recreate history, or whether time comes back to reveal an alternate history where yesterday’s certainties give way to new interpretations. The text advances the provocative idea that if Brahma’s theory is correct, a supposed fatal end might be merely one of many possibilities. The notion of identity is continually unsettled: not only does the past haunt the present, but the future can redefine what has occurred. The novel suggests that facts are often provisional and that interpretation shapes what counts as truth.
Las singularidades blends science, philosophy, humor, and intimate human bonding, with particular emphasis on the female characters who endure deep suffering. A science-fiction tint, lightly sketched, appears through technologies and a society unsettled by a paradigm shift introduced by Brahma’s theory. The cosmic idea that a great spirit moves through objects, granting them memory and vitality, underpins the novel’s mood, enriching rooms, furniture, and landscapes with a pulse that suggests hidden lives within ordinary surfaces.
The author delights in playful self-referentialism, letting the narrator, William Jaybey, act as a satirical stand-in for the author himself. Jaybey often assumes a godlike distance, hinting at Hermes-like speed and wit while using layered clues that challenge the reader. This figured narrator manipulates pace and withheld information to create puzzles that invite engagement rather than passive reading, producing a sense of lively, sometimes mischievous, dialogue between text and reader.
Through Banville’s deft storytelling, each chapter introduces new people who carry stories of their own, while the overarching narrative binds these fragments into a circular, unified arc. The technique stays inventive without sacrificing clarity, delivering a story that is accessible yet richly textured. The result is a book that feels effortless in its freshness and fluency, yet resists being labeled merely as light entertainment. If Las singularidades marks the final serious work of Banville, it does so with a confident, stylish farewell that leaves a lasting impression on the reader’s memory.
Critics and readers are invited to consider how time redefines personal histories, how scientific ideas provoke literary reimaginings, and how a master storyteller can turn a single volume into a landscape of interconnected narratives. The novel invites reflection on memory, interpretation, and the evolving meaning of identity, while maintaining a sense of wit and bold intellectual playfulness. Its tone remains both accessible and thought-provoking, making Banville’s late-career statement a provocative and engaging milestone in contemporary fiction. [Citation: Critical assessment of Las singularidades]