by Alex Michaelides ★★☆☆☆
On a private Greek island near Mykonos, one of the most famous actresses in the world, Lana Farrar, gathers with her closest companions: her husband Jason, her son Leo, her assistant Agathi, her close friend (and narrator of the novel) Elliot, her best friend Kate, and the island's caretaker, Nikos. By the end of the second page, we know that a murder takes place. We know that Elliot survives (since he's narrating), as well as Leo (since he finds the body); the rest, as they say, shall be revealed in due time.
From that point forward, our narrator Elliot takes the reader on a journey, gradually revealing bits of the story to help us understand what really happened on the island. Elliot strikes a conversational and conspiratorial tone, with frequent tangents and side commentary separate from the rehashing of the story. Despite his alleged efforts to the contrary, Elliot can't help but make this story about him, and so much of your enjoyment of the novel, I think, hinges on how you feel about Elliot as a character and the conversational style employed by Michaelides.
I, for one, was not a fan. While Michaelides does an admirable job of giving Elliot a distinct voice that is consistent and "in character" until the bitter end, the schtick grew tiresome for me. Elliot is like your cattiest, most insecure friend, always anxious to spill the tea on the latest gossip. Fans of The Silent Patient also know that Michaelides loves to employ an unreliable narrator. While Elliot repeatedly assures the reader that what he is rehashing is the truth, he also acknowledges there could be some gaps in the retelling. To give you a sense of the pattern of narration, here's a quick excerpt on that topic:
I stress all this so that, if at any point during this narrative I mislead you, you will understand that it is by accident, not design -- because I am clumsily skewing the events too much from my own point of view. An occupational hazard, perhaps, when one narrates a story in which one happens to play a minor role.
Nonetheless, I'll do my best not to hijack the narrative too often, Even so, I hope you'll indulge me the odd digression, here and there. And before you accuse me of telling my story in a labyrinthine manner, let me remind you that this is a true story -- and in real life, that's how we communicate, isn't it? We're all over the place: we jump back and forth in time; slow down and expand on some moments; fast-forward through others; editing as we go, minimizing flaws and maximizing assets. We are all the unreliable narrators of our own lives.
If you enjoy the above conversational approach to narration and storytelling in a novel, The Fury might be a great fit for you! Michaelides provides at least a minor motive for each character on the island to turn to murder. It is effectively a whodunit (although Elliot says it's really a "whydunit"), and whether it's Michaelides' skill as an author or Elliot's "labyrinthine manner" of storytelling, most everyone remains in play as a suspect until the end. It's a quick read -- the conversational style speeds the story along, and while there are the previously advertised divergences from the plot, in most cases those are minor. The story follows a pretty linear recounting of the path from the conception of the trip to the dead body at the end, with the occasional divergence to fill in some expository backstory.
I was one of the rare few who didn't love Michaelides' debut novel The Silent Patient, and so I wondered if perhaps I just wasn't in the right frame of mind while reading that one. As such, I was excited to give The Fury (and Michaelides) another try. While I was generally satisfied with the novel, I think his style is probably just not for me, so take my middling opinion of this novel with a large grain of salt. If you enjoyed The Silent Patient (like so many did), you may find The Fury more to your liking than I did, but be sure you're ready to spend 300+ pages with Elliot and his narrative style.
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