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Fantasy. Fiction. Literature. Mystery. An unlikely detective-armed only with an umbrella and a singular handbook-must solve a string of crimes committed in and through people's dreams. In an unnamed city slick with rain, Charles Unwin toils as a clerk at an imperious detective agency. His job: writing reports on cases solved by the palindromic Detective Travis Sivart. When Sivart goes missing and his supervisor is murdered, Unwin is promoted to detective, a rank for which he is woefully unprepared. His only guidance comes from his sleepy new assistant and the pithy yet profound Manual of Detection. Unwin mounts his search for Sivart but soon faces impossible questions: Why does the mummy at the Municipal Museum have modern-day dental work? Where have all the city's alarm clocks gone? Can the man with the blond beard really read his thoughts? Meanwhile, Unwin is framed for murder, pursued by goons, and confounded by a femme fatale. His only choice: to enter the dreams of a murdered man.… (more)
User reviews
Among the book's delights is the description of the world of Charles Unwin, a clerk in a huge,
So far so good – imaginative and entertaining. But as the plot thickens, so does the fantasy. And the more surreal it got, the less interested I was. I made it through the inhabitants of the city all sleepwalking and stealing alarm clocks but by the time we got to “dream-detection” – the good guys and the bad guys inhabiting each others' dreams for good and ill – I was pretty much disengaged.
This noir novel has a pitch perfect voice. Listening to it is probably one of the best ways to experience it, as it sounds like a '30s radio drama. Even so, I probably shouldn't have requested this audiobook. I don't commute and I rarely have time to sit and listen to a book. I read much faster than I can listen. So it took me a long time to start and to finish listening. Still, once you understand the voice this story is told in and follow the story along with our naive protagonist, the rococo details become charming and the odd characters become memorable.
The comparisons to Kafka and Brazil that I see
The story is a bit clunky at the start - you are forced to try to make sense of things that are not well-explained until you reach the second half of the book. From there on, the story unfolds quickly and most everything wraps up fairly nicely at the end. This is a strong debut novel that needed just a little more attention paid to the early chapters. I think I would have enjoyed this book more if I had actually read it instead of listening to the audiobook, so take my criticisms with a grain of salt.
I checked out the hardcover at the bookstore the other day and I have to say that I would recommend buying the well-designed print version of this book instead of the audiobook. Although the reader had a good voice for a detective story, his attempts at women's voices were spotty at best. More importantly, this is the kind of story that makes you want to flip back and check out previous chapters that do not make complete sense until later information is supplied. Several times I wished it was easier to find certain passages that were read, or even pause the recording for a little while so I could think about the story... which can be inconvenient depending on when and where you are listening.
With a large group of peculiar suspects Unwin must unravel how the theft of November 12th, the missing body of the The Oldest Murdered Man, and the Three Deaths of Colonel Baker relate to the disappearance of Detective Travis Sivart.
Not for readers who like their mysteries straight forward but perfect for those who revel in the offbeat. A compelling read and an author to keep an eye on. Appropriate for young adult readers as well.
In an unnamed city which has certain resemblances to early-20th-century New York, many matters are regulated by the Agency, a large, somewhat Kafkaesque organization whose hierarchy runs, in descending order: Watchers, Detectives, Clerks, Under-Clerks. There's not much direct communication between
Charles Unwin is the clerk whose responsibility it is to formalize, index and file the case reports of Detective Travis Sivart, the city's most prominent detective. One day he is abruptly informed that he has been promoted to fill the shoes of Sivart, who has gone missing, and is given a copy of the eponymous Manual of Detection to guide him. Plucking up all his courage, he goes to see the watcher who has made this appointment, hoping to persuade him it has all been a mistake and to restore the status quo, but by the time he gets there the man has been murdered; and soon thereafter Unwin finds himself framed for that crime. He spends most of the rest of the book in quest of the elusive Sivart, discovering along the way that there were flaws in the solutions of several of Sivart's most celebrated cases, and that some of the supervillains with whom Sivart has vied are perhaps not what they've seemed.
In particular, Unwin learns that the standard edition of The Manual of Detection is missing a chapter, the one on oneiric detection -- detection through dreams. Thus, while much of the novel's action takes place in mundane reality (or, at least, the version of it which the author presents to us as reality), there's also much that goes on within dreams, and within dreams that are themselves within dreams, and so on -- to the extent that it can be hard on occasion for the reader (or at least this reader) to work out which layer of derived reality is the one currently involved. This is the aspect of Berry's novel that I liked.
In a way the novel's like an expanded account of a dream; while the phantasmagoric nature of the events sometimes captivated me, there were also quite a few occasions when it occurred to me that there's a very good reason why people are generally discouraged from telling others about their dreams. It also means that throughout the text there's the sense that nothing that goes on, are the people participating, are of any consequence; there's no passion in the writing, and cannot be, with the result that it's pretty hard to muster any passion for the reading, either. By the halfway mark I was finding proceedings tedious (I was also finding it hard to remember, each time I picked the book up, what had been happening when I'd broken of); by three-quarters of the way through I was, alas, beginning to keep count of the pages left to go.
This alienation from the events of the text is unfortunately bolstered by the book's other major influence (if I can use that term loosely): surrealism, most especially the surrealism of Rene Magritte -- just to make sure we catch this, the title page bears a Magritte-style hat! It crossed my mind at one point that this book might be an exercise along the lines of "the detective novel Magritte might have written"; while I dismissed the notion immediately, it nevertheless did capture something of the feel of the text. The trouble is that the great delight of Magritte's paintings is that they portray a world that by definition we can't enter -- they're windows onto a dreamlike place of beautiful, consciousness-enflaming fantastication. If you're asked to step through the window and into that world, much of its magic ebbs because of your presence -- especially if your presence is prolonged to fill 278 pages.
I'd been looking forward acutely to The Manual of Detection -- it sounded to be right up my street (and the book's excellent, imaginative design enhanced this expectation) -- and must confess to being very disappointed. I was impressed by much in it, not least the author's first-rate imagination, and I'll be looking out for further books by Berry; but this one just didn't do it for me.
Charles Unwin is an unambitious clerk in an unnamed detective agency whose logo and motto are practically identical with the old Pinkerton Agency. Unwin files the reports for a detective who goes missing, and Unwin is unwillingly promoted to the missing detective’s place. Thus far we might say we are in familiar territory, with an dozen Hitchcock thrillers. But not soon strange things begin to happen. Unwin discovers that his detective’s most famous cases, The Three Deaths of Colonel Baker, The Oldest Murdered Man, and The Man Who Stole November Twelfth, turn out to have been setups that he did not solve at all. Half the city seems to be asleep, part of a plot by the notorious Enoch Hoffman, whose circus specialty was “biloquism,” the ability to assume anyone’s voice. Sleep turns out to be very important in The Manual of Detection, which is, by the way, the name of a book given to Unwin when he is promoted, though the edition the detectives use is missing an all-important final chapter, on dream detection. The higher-ups in the agency use a technique which enables their operatives to eavesdrop on the dreams of others.
The book is full of allusions to detective fiction: to John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee, to Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon and Continental Op, to H.R.F.Keating’s bicycle-riding Inspector Ghote and to other mystery classics, but there are also unmistakable references to Jorge Luis Borges, to Franz Kafka, to Lewis Carroll, and to Mikhail Bakhtin’s book on the carnival impulse in human culture that is always at war with the conservative element. The villain here is part of a carnival, and the agency is at war with it, but when the agency adopts dream detection, it forms an alliance with the very people it opposes.
A Manual of Detection is a timely allegory about how much power we allow the watchers. In a time when an ex Vice-President makes the claim that in defense of the country, whatever methods work must be used without regard to whether they are right or wrong, this book asks the question whether we can tell the good guys from the bad guys when they use the same methods.
An amazing debut novel. I hope
On the other hand, I think Berry spends too much time in the novel paying tribute to his influences instead of finding his own voice. I spent the first third of the novel thinking “I get that you like Kafka, please move on”. Fortunately Berry does eventually manage to overcome this and begins to borrow from his sources instead of merely emulating them.
The end result is a very surreal, faintly dreamlike, noir meditation on the need to achieve a balance between chaos and order. The closest think I can think of to compare it to is Jonathan Lethem’s Gun With Occasional Music, which definitely puts Berry in some good company. I definitely recommend this to anyone that’s a fans of the New Weird. And I’ll definitely be back for whatever Berry chooses to follow up this novel with to see where he goes from here.
Anyone familiar with the famous quote attributed to Benjamin Franklin,"Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety," will probably appreciate the story of Charles Unwin, a fastidious and rule-abiding office clerk, who is unwittingly thrust into a web of intrigue when the celebrated detective he works for goes missing. While investigating the sudden disappearance, Unwin stumbles on a nefarious plot to gain control over the minds of the citizens by infiltrating their dreams. It’s the ultimate invasion of privacy and its origins are as surprising as they are sinister. I can’t help but wonder if the Patriot Act was high on Berry’s mind when the idea for this book was conceived. But despite how dire that sounds, this is hardly a heavy, preachy affair. It's full of quirky humour and unexpected twists, not to mention a host of oddball characters.
Along the way, we meet the cigar-chomping detective Sivart, a pair of [formerly] conjoined twin thugs, an addled museum guard, some very sorry looking elephants, a psychic giantess, an army of sleepwalkers, a villainous ventriloquist, plus three ladies straight out of a classic noir – Emily, the plucky, can-do assistant, Cleo Greenwood, the honey-voiced femme fatale, and the mysterious “woman in the plaid coat.” Throw in about ten thousand purloined alarm clocks and a “Travels-no-More” carnival and you’ve got a story with some seriously weird atmospherics, a unique cast, a bit of mystery and a lot of fun.
This novel is a delight from start to finish.
I should mention that I didn’t actually read this one, but listened to the unabridged edition audio book. This was my first experience with an audio book and what a wonderful surprise! Pete Larkin did a terrific job creating voices for each of the characters – he even had me laughing out loud at some points. Plus it was broken up into short enough sections that stopping it and coming back to it later was never a problem. I enjoyed it so much in fact, that I’ve visited the Highbridge Audio website several times to shop their catalogue and can report that they have a varied and excellent selection.
Berry's characters are as curious about what will happen next as the reader. The story takes place in an unnamed city and follows an unlikely detective, Charles Unwin. Through twists and turns the reader is drawn into a house of mirrors with Barry as the sideshow caller. Unwin is searching for his predecessor, Travis Sivart who reminds the reader of Humphrey Bogart.
The end is as unpredictable as the rest of the novel. If you've not read this, grab a copy, put on a fedora, turn the lights low, and you just may not stop reading. *The Manual of Detection* is a brilliant and dreamy detective story worth every word.
Charles Unwin is a file clerk who works for a detective agency and he files reported for investigator Travis Sivart. Travis goes missing and Unwin is promoted to his
There's a lot of surreal dream-work here and even at the end I wasn't sure if it was a dream or reality for the characters and I'm still unsure what the outcome was. As I said not a bad read but not a me read.
At the same time, its a
My only complaint is that I didn't like the ending - it fit, it was well done, but I wanted more explanation. Or maybe I'm just annoyed because I was over thinking the whole plot :)
I sometimes had a hard time following all the twists and turns of Unwin's journey through a bizarre landscape of sleepwalkers. The fact that so many completely unexpected things kept happening kept my interest though, and there was enough of a thread of coherency for me to follow the plot. The narrator of the audiobook captured the feel of the story well, transporting the reader back to the heyday of detective stories--the 1940's--with a masterful reading of slang and appropriate voices. Fans of noir and traditional private eye stories (like The Maltese Falcon) will enjoy the feel of this story as long as they also enjoy the fantastical direction that the author takes the genre.
And I was, I suppose. This book started off as a well-written noir with a gothic backdrop. Charles Unwin works for a detective agency straight out of the black and
Wonderfully well-written it is, but a wonderful detective noir... no. It changed direction somewhere after the first third. It becomes far more ethereal. These detectives delve into peoples dreams, and as such, they have the power to traverse a vast and disjointed landscape. The novel takes us there, and Berry does a fine job of it. I think I was just hoping for something else.
This book reminded me of Paul Auster's City of Glass, which is a good thing. Perhaps Berry wraps things up a little neater than Auster did in his post-modern detective thriller. It's definitely worth a read, if you're looking for something a little different. Just know, going in, that it *will* be different.
This book is nothing like what I thought it would be. I expected something conventional in the, well, mystery/detective novel genre. Ha! It’s anything but conventional, at least plot-wise. The writing is good, sparse and to-the-point. The story takes on a surrealist, fantastical perspective and I have to confess I was somewhat lost at times. I had a bit of trouble following the plot because of the unusual method of story-telling. I don’t think, however, that it’s the author’s fault – I’m just not used to this kind of writing style. To give an example, the cases Charles’ detective (Sivart), followed were strange – one was called ‘The Man Who Stole November Twelfth” and the reader should take that title literally.
There were a few plot twists (in the normal context of this book) which I found very clever. As a matter of fact given my confusion with the nature of this novel, I likely missed some plot points as I was so focused on untangling what was going on. I plan on re-reading this book soon since there were subtleties I know I didn’t catch and I believe this is one of those books I can read over and over again and likely find something new each time.
This book is like nothing I’ve ever read before in this genre and I would recommend it to anyone who loves mysteries with and off-beat, quirky approach to the story.
One final note, the hardcover book is beautiful and doesn’t have a dust cover. Instead, all of the art is printed right on the cover and looks and feels beautiful. I hope that this is something we see more of from the publishing industry in the future.