Tana French

I pride myself on high standards for other people’s writing. If only I could do the same for my own. Admittedly, my range doesn’t extend into contemporary literature, but that may be a value judgment all by itself.

Right now, I’m reading Faithful Place by Tana French. She’s an Irish writer with two other books under her belt, neither of which I’ve sampled. The books are mysteries, so they slipped under my upturned nose before I rejected them out of hand for being “literature.”

Amazing.

I can’t recall when I’ve read someone who captures such a sense of place, working class Dublin in this case, or who can give voice to such a range of characters. If I was writing this, if I had the ear to sound out Irish at all, everyone would come out sounding the same. She add enough nuance to tell between the working class stiffs and the more educated middle class. She manages to give voice to generational differences between parents and children, and even to express personality differences between siblings.

She puts more into their individual vulgarity than I suspected could exist.  I thought they all talked that way. Obviously not. Tana’s craft goes beyond voices. She has a whole unabridged dictionary of emotions written in shrugs, glances and postures.

I’m so starved for great writing, that alone would have left me drooling on the floor, but she doesn’t quit there. She uses atmosphere and scenery to bring everything into sharp focus. Not a detail is lost. The story has a deep, subtle plot and clever characters that keep me turning pages into the night. 

I only wish I could write with a tenth the skill she musters on a single page. If anyone can learn by example, this is a textbook for writers, disguised as a novel. Everyone who aspires to greatness as an author should turn these pages, studying until the binding falls apart. 

She’s that good.