Mountain Devil

Recommend: No

There are good Deborah Levys (Hot Milk). There are confusing Deborah Levys (August Blue). There are forgettable Deborah Levys (Beautiful Mutants). This latest one I have read is called The Man Who Saw Everything and it’s a blend of all of the above.

Our narrator is Saul Adler. At the opening of the book he is in love with a younger woman called Jessica. Saul is a bit mopey and uninspired, unlike Jessica who is vibrant and determined to kick start her photography career. The pair lacks chemistry on the page but Levy styles the opening in a page-turner enough manner that it doesn’t matter it’s hard to take the two seriously as lovers. In fact, it’s almost part of the appeal. The relationship seems so unsuited that it’s sort of fun to watch it fall apart soon after we’re introduced to it.

Jessica and Saul’s break-up gives the impression quickly that the reader knows more than Saul. We can see that these guys had totally different motivations and desires in life, even while Saul’s all like “she’s my soulmate. I think this is deliberate by Levy. She’s showing us a man out of touch with the world around him. He’s a bit self-obsessed and, frankly, a bit boring. He’s going with the flow but it doesn’t click when that flow changes.

Before they break-up, Jessica convinces Saul to pose like a Beatle on Abbey Road as she photographs him. The way couples kill time on weekends can sound like hell on earth to their friends, and this is no exception. As Saul waits for Jessica on Abbey Road, he is hit by a car. This is where the plot really takes off.

Levy’s writing is good. I like Deborah Levy. I just wish her plots were more easily understood. She relies so heavily on repeated scenes and imagery to convey meaning. Each new variation on a repeated scene allows the reader to illicit a little bit more understanding of the character. That process of discovery is a valid way to structure a book. The ambiguity definitely increases my engagement with the plot because I am constantly trying to piece together a fuller picture of what is happening. The doublings also service the multiple timelines happening at once in this novel, connecting one moment to another 28 years later.

But I often end Levy’s novels unclear about what I was exactly meant to take away from each specific object of interest – all these motifs are planted deliberately by Levy, but why tinned pineapple, why the touch of one’s own hair? The circularity inherent in the plot means that I can’t say much of what happens after Saul is hit by the car on Abbey Road. Partly so I don’t ruin the suspense for others and partly because I didn’t always have a good grasp on what was happening.

Over time I’ve understood the most rewarding approach to Levy’s novels is to not question exactly why this particular doubling is being used, and try to understand instead what the general concept of doubling is trying to convey. In August Blue I struggled to understand the point: something about art and adopted family. The Man Who Saw Everything has a clearer overall message about the lasting impact of friendships and love, and was more enjoyable for it.

The journey wasn’t without meaning though, even though I often couldn’t see where I was going. I ended the book with fond feelings for Saul. The man is a bit lost, in the way we are all a bit lost. He is a bit lonely, in the way we are all a bit lonely. He’s had some adventures and made some memories but upon looking back, after a lifetime spent critically assessing history and its flaws, reflects on if his own choices were ever the right ones.