But it never really evolves. In fact, by the end of the novel, it's unclear whether there was even a crime surrounding either of his parents' deaths. And maybe one or both of his parents were adulterers, but that too, remains uncertain at the end of 200 pages. That's just the point, Bowers argues. Rather, Banks spends a great deal of time arguing that truth is elusive and that all facts are subject to interpretation.
Memory bends things.
He treats us to mysterious cassettes left in graves, two corpses exhumed, a stabbing with a syringe, and a detective who, invariably, becomes the love interest. Cue the girl from high school. Well, then, make the girl from high school a homicide detective. Banks appears awfully aloof from all his family, and Bowers is perfectly happy to indulge this. And while Banks' diabetic mood swings and chronic lying don't merge well into a cohesive character, Bowers seems determined to make us believe that they do.