Curt Finch’s Montjoy is a narrative shaped by loss, memory, and the weight of history. Told through the reflective lens of its protagonist, Owen Schoenberg, a historian grappling with personal and professional crises, the novel traverses Europe, exploring Manchester, Vienna, Berlin, Linz, and finally a return home. Finch weaves together themes of grief, identity, and the search for meaning against the backdrop of Holocaust history and contemporary existential malaise.

One of the most striking aspects of the book is Finch’s writing style. It’s intricate, even meandering at times, with sentences that seem to mirror the protagonist’s restless and pensive state of mind. There’s an early scene in Manchester where Owen receives a phone call from Ella Grunebaum that sets the story in motion. Finch writes with a blend of dry humor and melancholy that hooked me immediately. Owen’s ruminations—on the collapse of his marriage, the death of his son, and his Baillie Gifford Prize for a book that feels hollow in hindsight—strike a deeply human chord. Finch captures the emotional weight of these experiences without tipping into melodrama. The balance between Owen’s sharp wit and his palpable sorrow made him a compelling, if occasionally infuriating, narrator.

Vienna—the second “verge”—is where the novel truly shines. Here, Owen immerses himself in the archives of the Mauthausen Memorial, unearthing both historical and personal truths. The city becomes a character in itself, with its wintry streets and grand cafés reflecting Owen’s internal isolation. Finch excels in painting Vienna as a place of contradictions: cultured yet haunted, vibrant yet subdued. A particularly vivid moment is a dinner with Ella and her husband Noah, where the conversation spirals into philosophical debates about memory, history, and the ethics of storytelling. This scene epitomizes the book’s intellectual richness, though at times, the dialogue can feel academic. Still, it’s these dense exchanges that give the narrative its weight and texture.

One aspect I found challenging was the novel’s pacing, especially in Berlin and Linz. While Finch’s prose remains evocative, the plot occasionally feels bogged down by Owen’s introspection and the historical detail. For instance, Owen’s discovery of the mysterious “merkbuch” in Linz—a journal buried at the Mauthausen site—is a fascinating thread, yet its unraveling is slow and laden with tangents. That said, the merkbuch’s contents—recounting acts of defiance and despair during the Nazi era—are haunting and memorable, raising questions about the interplay of fact and fiction, morality and survival.

By the time Owen returns “home” in the final verge, the novel feels like it’s circling back on itself, much like its protagonist. The ending is understated yet poignant, leaving more questions than answers. I found it fitting for a story so concerned with the elusive nature of truth and reconciliation. Finch doesn’t offer easy resolutions, and that’s precisely what makes the book linger in your mind.

Montjoy is a novel for readers who enjoy thought-provoking literature steeped in history and philosophy. Fans of W.G. Sebald or John Banville will likely find much to admire here. For me, it was a moving and intellectually rewarding read, though one that demanded patience and reflection. Finch has crafted a novel that’s as much about the stories we tell ourselves as it is about the ones we uncover in the world around us.

Pages: 147 | ASIN : B0DLLHSTY7