I was wrong to be daunted by this. All of the Julian Barnes I had read to this point were short novels that hit like a sledgehammer. They demand close, slow, attentive reading. I worried that 400+ pages of that would be overwhelming. I underestimated Julian Barnes.

This is the (fictionalized) true story of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and a man who was unfairly accused of a crime. It’s a courtroom drama, a detective story, and a kind of imagined biography of a historical giant.

The writing is of course lyrical and immersive, but it’s measured and maintains a slow burn rather than the intensity of a book like The Sense of an Ending. The plot itself is slow – we get to know the full biographies of the two protagonists before the real intrigue hits at about 150 pages in. In the hands of another writer this would be dull, but not Barnes.

When the action starts, all the buildup pays off. The characters are so rich that it’s easy to care about the b-plots like Doyle’s second marriage.

It’s vintage Barnes, and it was really interesting to see him work in a longer form. The guy really is a master, and it’s almost embarrassing to admit that I hadn’t really heard of him before this year.