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Parallel Lines
From the best-selling and award-winning author of The Patrick Melrose novels, a hilarious and moving story about a group of wildly different characters whose fates are improbably yet intextricably linked—a novel about extinction and survival, inheritance and loss, written with St, Aubyn’s trademark wit and inimitable style
It’s the summer of 2021, and Sebastian is in treatment following a breakdown that has left him grappling with his fragile grip on reality and his persistent hunger to connect with the biological mother who abandoned him as a child. His therapist, Martin, is facing challenges of his own, including his adopted daughter’s tenuous relationship with her own biological mother—a predicament that makes Sebastian’s struggle feel uncannily proximate to her own. Olivia is producing a radio series on catastrophic natural disasters, which itself seems to be running parallel to the events unfolding in her personal life, as her best friend Lucy faces a grave diagnosis, and her husband, Francis, pursues his mission of re-wilding the world. Over the course of the next year their fates collide in outrageous and poignant ways, as each of their destinies is revealed in a marvelous new light.
With characteristic brilliance and humor, Parallel Lines investigates themes of dualism, determinism, connection and love. St. Aubyn captures the life of the spirit as vibrantly as the life of the mind, in a novel that wrestles with moral and psychic anguish and the cascading consequences of our choices at every stage of life. A thrilling, wholly captivating work from one of the most gifted writers at work today.
It’s the summer of 2021, and Sebastian is in treatment following a breakdown that has left him grappling with his fragile grip on reality and his persistent hunger to connect with the biological mother who abandoned him as a child. His therapist, Martin, is facing challenges of his own, including his adopted daughter’s tenuous relationship with her own biological mother—a predicament that makes Sebastian’s struggle feel uncannily proximate to her own. Olivia is producing a radio series on catastrophic natural disasters, which itself seems to be running parallel to the events unfolding in her personal life, as her best friend Lucy faces a grave diagnosis, and her husband, Francis, pursues his mission of re-wilding the world. Over the course of the next year their fates collide in outrageous and poignant ways, as each of their destinies is revealed in a marvelous new light.
With characteristic brilliance and humor, Parallel Lines investigates themes of dualism, determinism, connection and love. St. Aubyn captures the life of the spirit as vibrantly as the life of the mind, in a novel that wrestles with moral and psychic anguish and the cascading consequences of our choices at every stage of life. A thrilling, wholly captivating work from one of the most gifted writers at work today.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published May 1, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 93 reviews
April 4, 2025
Sebastian is a schizophrenic and is in hospital because his mental health has broken down for several reasons, not least because he wants to meet his birth mother. His psychotherapist Dr Martin Carr has serious concerns about this for very good reason reasons of his own. Meanwhile, Martin’s adopted daughter Olivia has concerns of her own. She’s back at work following looking after her young son Noah and is making a series of programmes on natural disasters. This seems to be a parallel line for issues in her personal life connected to her environmentalist husband Francis who is on a mission to re-wild the world and worries about the health of her best friend Lucy. It transpires that Martin is in a very tricky situation and is on a sticky wicket. Will the situation be a train wreck or something else entirely? It seems the fates have things in store for all of them and it might turn out to be beautiful.
This is intense, sensitive, colourful, poignant and quite moving at times. Sebastian‘s fractured mind at the start is wonderfully written with gorgeous prose and as someone who’s partner has mental health issues his furiously running mind makes me feel emotional. As Dr Carr works his magic and Sebastian becomes calmer, my love for him as a character grows and grows. The way his mind works is truly fantastic, it’s an original entity of beauty which is spellbinding and makes me marvel. His imagination has so much power that I can only describe it as glorious. He is brilliantly captured and depicted by the author and he is a character that will endure for me.
Olivia‘s mind is also a fertile, creative and intriguing place. She is also a lovely person, she’s caring, sympathetic and empathetic. Francis grows on me, there are some lovely scenes towards the end where I re-evaluate him and as for Noah, he’s delightful.
Edward St Aubyn is a very erudite writer, he’s clearly extremely clever and I confess that some of the conversations between characters are a bit too intellectual for me! There is humour and plenty of it which is sometimes the sardonic variety which works for me. There are clever plays on words, especially in Sebastian‘s head which I love.
As a potential storms build and it all begins to connect with parallel lines becoming coincidences, it’s as if the universe is coming together and it’s very satisfying. I love the end with gorgeous Noah capturing it into simple sentences.
I haven’t read Double Blind but this is easily read as a standalone.
Four stars overall but five stars for the character of Sebastian.
With thanks to NetGalley and especially to Random House UK, Vintage for a much appreciated early copy in return for an honest review.
This is intense, sensitive, colourful, poignant and quite moving at times. Sebastian‘s fractured mind at the start is wonderfully written with gorgeous prose and as someone who’s partner has mental health issues his furiously running mind makes me feel emotional. As Dr Carr works his magic and Sebastian becomes calmer, my love for him as a character grows and grows. The way his mind works is truly fantastic, it’s an original entity of beauty which is spellbinding and makes me marvel. His imagination has so much power that I can only describe it as glorious. He is brilliantly captured and depicted by the author and he is a character that will endure for me.
Olivia‘s mind is also a fertile, creative and intriguing place. She is also a lovely person, she’s caring, sympathetic and empathetic. Francis grows on me, there are some lovely scenes towards the end where I re-evaluate him and as for Noah, he’s delightful.
Edward St Aubyn is a very erudite writer, he’s clearly extremely clever and I confess that some of the conversations between characters are a bit too intellectual for me! There is humour and plenty of it which is sometimes the sardonic variety which works for me. There are clever plays on words, especially in Sebastian‘s head which I love.
As a potential storms build and it all begins to connect with parallel lines becoming coincidences, it’s as if the universe is coming together and it’s very satisfying. I love the end with gorgeous Noah capturing it into simple sentences.
I haven’t read Double Blind but this is easily read as a standalone.
Four stars overall but five stars for the character of Sebastian.
With thanks to NetGalley and especially to Random House UK, Vintage for a much appreciated early copy in return for an honest review.
April 4, 2025
4.5, rounded down.
I've read almost everything St. Aubyn has put out, so I started this with great anticipation ... but I got to 9% and something seemed off - I just wasn't connecting to what was happening. So I started again and got to 17% - and then realized the problem was that this was actually a sequel to 2021's Double Blind - which I HAD read, but I have a mind like a sieve and could barely remember anything about it. So - I went back and reread THAT - and then moved on to this.
That was a great help, and although this potentially COULD be read as a stand-alone - it makes MUCH more sense as part two of single cohesive work. That said, this ALSO ends on a distinct hint that there will be at LEAST a third part, and hopefully some dangling threads (not least Lucy's struggle with a brain tumor!) will be resolved there.
Be that as it may, this was largely a delight to read, although some parts did tend to get bogged down and sometimes a bit 'preachy'. But St. Aubyn's wit and erudition made such minor complaints rather nil.
Thanx to the author, Netgalley and Knopf for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.
I've read almost everything St. Aubyn has put out, so I started this with great anticipation ... but I got to 9% and something seemed off - I just wasn't connecting to what was happening. So I started again and got to 17% - and then realized the problem was that this was actually a sequel to 2021's Double Blind - which I HAD read, but I have a mind like a sieve and could barely remember anything about it. So - I went back and reread THAT - and then moved on to this.
That was a great help, and although this potentially COULD be read as a stand-alone - it makes MUCH more sense as part two of single cohesive work. That said, this ALSO ends on a distinct hint that there will be at LEAST a third part, and hopefully some dangling threads (not least Lucy's struggle with a brain tumor!) will be resolved there.
Be that as it may, this was largely a delight to read, although some parts did tend to get bogged down and sometimes a bit 'preachy'. But St. Aubyn's wit and erudition made such minor complaints rather nil.
Thanx to the author, Netgalley and Knopf for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.
May 27, 2025
The Orwell Prize finalist 2025 for political fiction, Parallel Lines is the second instalment of this yet-unnamed and impressive series by Edward St. Aubyn. From the disjointed narrative of Sebastian's psyche to the Freudian-inspired characters orbiting him, this dense novel flaunts psychoanalysis, environmentalism, genetics, identity, and family ties in a dizzying narrative sprinkled with satire, science, and drama.
Parallel Lines was my second St. Aubyn book (thank you, fellow readers, for alerting me that Double Blind is the first in the series, a detail not noticeable). Although it took me some time to sink into the story, rarely have I come across such an intellectually stimulating narrative. The novel opens with Sebastian’s inner thoughts, narrated in the third person. This is noteworthy, as the third-person narration from other characters uses a different, more neutral tone. Aubyn’s choice of a distinct voice for Sebastian’s narrative is compelling, as it draws the reader into his fractured, inquisitive and easily stimulated mind.
Sebastian is a schizophrenic individual, undergoing analysis with Dr. Carr, who also happens to be Olivia’s father. Olivia, Sebastian’s twin sister, is producing a podcast on natural disasters. They don’t know each other. There’s also Noah, Olivia’s genius son with Francis, an accomplished scientist and entrepreneur. Helio is Sebastian’s nurse, his friend, and also a light-painting artist. There are many other characters, each fully developed and realised, not all likable, but human and real nonetheless. Sometimes I had to retrace who was who and from where, but after a while, the dialogues and parallel storylines began to feel organic and coherent. A few notes about the characters might help tracking them.
The plot itself is relatively simple: two adult twins, separated in childhood, are reconnected by chance through unexpected individuals and circumstances. However simplistic the plot may seem, Aubyn’s genius lies not in what happens, but in how it happens. His writing layered with psychological and emotional intricacies, and fully realised, self-absorbed, deeply flawed, and strangely likeable characters. I enjoyed immensely the process of dissecting their behaviours, motivations, and contradictions. Aubyn blends philosophy, biology, and religion into the narrative seamlessly through rich conversations, subtle observations, always with intention, often using irony and rhetorical narrative to persuade, question, and provoke the reader. His observational and informative style works beautifully with the novel’s concern in science, psychoanalysis, class, family, identity, and belonging. There are moments of poignant reflection that are cathartic and hopeful, peppered with tension and irony.
There are occasional references to Double Blind, and here’s my thoughts on the series' structure:
Although nominated for the Orwell Prize, I found the political aspect subtle. These characters are privileged, educated, and wealthy. Their problems unfold in sparkling isolation, without the burdens of common folk. Science and psychoanalysis lovers will devour this book, full of interesting information and argumentation. At the end of the novel, the minutiae of correlations the reader can make, along with their perceptions and judgements on the characters, makes Parallel Lines a lush and rewarding reading experience. Political satire and commentaries are sprinkled throughout the story. Besides, it is a touching and poignant story that shies away from unnecessary drama and gives room to deep, meaningful understanding between siblings, parents, and children.
This is a book best enjoyed by those who enjoy character-driven stories, slow-burning plots, and the pleasure of connecting narrative dots. Science and psychoanalysis lovers will especially appreciate the wealth of detail, argument, and intellectual layering. Parallel Lines is not for everyone. But if you’re someone who enjoys dissecting characters, untangling subtle threads, and being swept up in clever prose, this book is absolutely for you.
Recommended.
Rating: 4.25/5
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Quotes might differ slightly from the final printed version:
"He mustn’t get so stressed, or so distressed. Although distress sounded like it was the opposite of stress, they were closely related. They weren’t identical twins. The identical twin of stress was stress, and the identical twin of distress was distress, but stress and distress were weirdly related, they had a syllable in common, but an uncommon dis."
"‘Fuck,’ she said, reaching up to support a toppling Noah as he grabbed at the shoots bristling from the burr. Just one moment of inattention, that’s all it took. ‘I mean, whoops. I’m not encouraging you to use that other word.’ ‘Don’t worry, Mama, I don’t need encouraging,’ said Noah. ‘I already used it at nursery.’"
"Did a crucifix count as furniture or interior decoration? Was it an instrument of torture or an instrument for ending torture? Both-And, Hunter, Both-And."
"Compassion is just love in the face of suffering and love does not run out with use – it grows stronger."
"We expect the unexpected to be shocking, which of course it is, in its brassy and sometimes traumatic way, but inevitable things are also shocking when they finally happen, partly because we think we’ve outmanoeuvred them with anticipation whereas, in reality, we may have been secretly building up their impact."
Parallel Lines was my second St. Aubyn book (thank you, fellow readers, for alerting me that Double Blind is the first in the series, a detail not noticeable). Although it took me some time to sink into the story, rarely have I come across such an intellectually stimulating narrative. The novel opens with Sebastian’s inner thoughts, narrated in the third person. This is noteworthy, as the third-person narration from other characters uses a different, more neutral tone. Aubyn’s choice of a distinct voice for Sebastian’s narrative is compelling, as it draws the reader into his fractured, inquisitive and easily stimulated mind.
Sebastian is a schizophrenic individual, undergoing analysis with Dr. Carr, who also happens to be Olivia’s father. Olivia, Sebastian’s twin sister, is producing a podcast on natural disasters. They don’t know each other. There’s also Noah, Olivia’s genius son with Francis, an accomplished scientist and entrepreneur. Helio is Sebastian’s nurse, his friend, and also a light-painting artist. There are many other characters, each fully developed and realised, not all likable, but human and real nonetheless. Sometimes I had to retrace who was who and from where, but after a while, the dialogues and parallel storylines began to feel organic and coherent. A few notes about the characters might help tracking them.
The plot itself is relatively simple: two adult twins, separated in childhood, are reconnected by chance through unexpected individuals and circumstances. However simplistic the plot may seem, Aubyn’s genius lies not in what happens, but in how it happens. His writing layered with psychological and emotional intricacies, and fully realised, self-absorbed, deeply flawed, and strangely likeable characters. I enjoyed immensely the process of dissecting their behaviours, motivations, and contradictions. Aubyn blends philosophy, biology, and religion into the narrative seamlessly through rich conversations, subtle observations, always with intention, often using irony and rhetorical narrative to persuade, question, and provoke the reader. His observational and informative style works beautifully with the novel’s concern in science, psychoanalysis, class, family, identity, and belonging. There are moments of poignant reflection that are cathartic and hopeful, peppered with tension and irony.
There are occasional references to Double Blind, and here’s my thoughts on the series' structure:
Although nominated for the Orwell Prize, I found the political aspect subtle. These characters are privileged, educated, and wealthy. Their problems unfold in sparkling isolation, without the burdens of common folk. Science and psychoanalysis lovers will devour this book, full of interesting information and argumentation. At the end of the novel, the minutiae of correlations the reader can make, along with their perceptions and judgements on the characters, makes Parallel Lines a lush and rewarding reading experience. Political satire and commentaries are sprinkled throughout the story. Besides, it is a touching and poignant story that shies away from unnecessary drama and gives room to deep, meaningful understanding between siblings, parents, and children.
This is a book best enjoyed by those who enjoy character-driven stories, slow-burning plots, and the pleasure of connecting narrative dots. Science and psychoanalysis lovers will especially appreciate the wealth of detail, argument, and intellectual layering. Parallel Lines is not for everyone. But if you’re someone who enjoys dissecting characters, untangling subtle threads, and being swept up in clever prose, this book is absolutely for you.
Recommended.
Rating: 4.25/5
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Quotes might differ slightly from the final printed version:
"He mustn’t get so stressed, or so distressed. Although distress sounded like it was the opposite of stress, they were closely related. They weren’t identical twins. The identical twin of stress was stress, and the identical twin of distress was distress, but stress and distress were weirdly related, they had a syllable in common, but an uncommon dis."
"‘Fuck,’ she said, reaching up to support a toppling Noah as he grabbed at the shoots bristling from the burr. Just one moment of inattention, that’s all it took. ‘I mean, whoops. I’m not encouraging you to use that other word.’ ‘Don’t worry, Mama, I don’t need encouraging,’ said Noah. ‘I already used it at nursery.’"
"Did a crucifix count as furniture or interior decoration? Was it an instrument of torture or an instrument for ending torture? Both-And, Hunter, Both-And."
"Compassion is just love in the face of suffering and love does not run out with use – it grows stronger."
"We expect the unexpected to be shocking, which of course it is, in its brassy and sometimes traumatic way, but inevitable things are also shocking when they finally happen, partly because we think we’ve outmanoeuvred them with anticipation whereas, in reality, we may have been secretly building up their impact."
April 30, 2025
I struggled with around 80% of this book, which felt a little like a showcase for all the interests of the author, which he wanted to write about and shoehorned into the narrative.
The story involves an extended family and friends group.
Sebastian is a schizophrenic who is being seen by Dr Martin Carr, who lives with his wife, Lizzie (also a psychologist) in London. Carr has 2 children - Charlie, biological son and Olivia, an adopted daughter. Olivia and Sebastian are twins but had not met until Olivia's birth mother arranges an ill-advised meeting at her home. The fallout from these relationships colour the end of the book.
The main part of the narrative is introducing those characters plus many others, whose names I cannot recall, who all seem to be in some form of crisis-either physical, mental or relationship-wise.
I got somewhat lost trying to remember who was married to who, what their problems were and where I'd met them first.
The part of the book that I really enjoyed was at the end when Sebastian and Olivia begin to forge a real relationship. I've no real idea what part a lot of the other characters played other than to pad out the narrative.
Not for me (except the last bit). But if you've enjoyed St Aubyn's other books you will probably enjoy this. The lives contained within it are certainly just as chaotic as Patrick Melrose's.
Thankyou to Netgalley and Random House for the advance review copy.
The story involves an extended family and friends group.
Sebastian is a schizophrenic who is being seen by Dr Martin Carr, who lives with his wife, Lizzie (also a psychologist) in London. Carr has 2 children - Charlie, biological son and Olivia, an adopted daughter. Olivia and Sebastian are twins but had not met until Olivia's birth mother arranges an ill-advised meeting at her home. The fallout from these relationships colour the end of the book.
The main part of the narrative is introducing those characters plus many others, whose names I cannot recall, who all seem to be in some form of crisis-either physical, mental or relationship-wise.
I got somewhat lost trying to remember who was married to who, what their problems were and where I'd met them first.
The part of the book that I really enjoyed was at the end when Sebastian and Olivia begin to forge a real relationship. I've no real idea what part a lot of the other characters played other than to pad out the narrative.
Not for me (except the last bit). But if you've enjoyed St Aubyn's other books you will probably enjoy this. The lives contained within it are certainly just as chaotic as Patrick Melrose's.
Thankyou to Netgalley and Random House for the advance review copy.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 25, 2025
Having read and admired the predecessor, Double Blind, I was excited to be given early access to this remarkable book. What I said about that earlier book I could repeat here. He covers a lot of territory with relatively few words. There promises a third installment, and I look forward to it.
Read
April 10, 2025The relationship between the reader and the writer is always a delicate balancing dance that is influenced by all sorts of factors: the reader’s preferred genre, life experiences, whether the prose is “warm” (pulls you in) or “cool” (keeps you at a distance), and all sorts of other things.
Edward St. Aubyn is an amazing writer and his Patrick Melrose series will stand the test of time. His theme – Parallel Lines, lines that are equidistant from each other and never meet, no matter how far they are extended, is a tantalizing one. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t connect. That’s on me, and I urge other readers to try for themselves. I am indebted to Knopf for the early copy in exchange for my honest thoughts.
Edward St. Aubyn is an amazing writer and his Patrick Melrose series will stand the test of time. His theme – Parallel Lines, lines that are equidistant from each other and never meet, no matter how far they are extended, is a tantalizing one. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t connect. That’s on me, and I urge other readers to try for themselves. I am indebted to Knopf for the early copy in exchange for my honest thoughts.
March 28, 2025
Picking up from characters in the brilliant 2021 novel Double Blind, St. Aubyn returns with edgy wordplay and humorous reflection on the hopeless but hilarious human condition.
Sebastian (Seb) is a fast-witted, rapid-fire speaker, thinker and schizophrenic. His twin sister Olivia was adopted at birth by Seb's eventual therapist. While she was nurtured, Seb wasn’t so fortunate. Characters orbit the twins and create a vivid galaxy whether artist, TV producer, tycoon, pilot or cancer survivor. St. Aubyn uses professions and labels with unbound freedom, creating plotlines that feel limitless. Clever storytelling and scene setting make this a highly entertaining read.
Parallel Lines is erudite without feeling forced. While it may not carry the same literary heft as the generational achievement of the Melrose novels, it is giddy fun and composed beautifully. This novel works well as a stand alone or as a complement to Double Blind.
Thank you NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the review copy.
Sebastian (Seb) is a fast-witted, rapid-fire speaker, thinker and schizophrenic. His twin sister Olivia was adopted at birth by Seb's eventual therapist. While she was nurtured, Seb wasn’t so fortunate. Characters orbit the twins and create a vivid galaxy whether artist, TV producer, tycoon, pilot or cancer survivor. St. Aubyn uses professions and labels with unbound freedom, creating plotlines that feel limitless. Clever storytelling and scene setting make this a highly entertaining read.
Parallel Lines is erudite without feeling forced. While it may not carry the same literary heft as the generational achievement of the Melrose novels, it is giddy fun and composed beautifully. This novel works well as a stand alone or as a complement to Double Blind.
Thank you NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the review copy.
April 16, 2025
This is my first Edward St Aubyn novel - I hadn't read double Blind which is an earlier book that introduces several characters
This is a tale of siblings - identical twins separated at birth and the story of their different paths that lead to a reunion. the book starts from the perspective of Sebastian- the brother and schizophrenic- receiving treatment from Dr Martin Carr.
Dr Carr's adoptive daughter Lucy is navigating life with young son and a husband who re-wilding the world!
This is a 'clever' book- clever in the sense of word play and prose but also in relation to satirising the 'chattering' classes of the London elite/wealthy- but sometimes it feels every sentence is a bit of an' in-joke' - that Mr St Aubyn is on a mission to take an ironic view of the world in such a way that nothing is truly real and it becomes a Guardian article.
The mindset of Sebastian is beautifully constructed as he navigates his understanding of modern life but it is the final quarter of this book that redeems the novel with a sense of warmth as stories are linked and new relationships are made. It would seem from the final line that a sequel may one day appear...
Personally this is a 3.5 for the final part but will give 3 overall - I just felt that wasn't truly into the mindset of the author enough although I can imagine many will be.
This is a tale of siblings - identical twins separated at birth and the story of their different paths that lead to a reunion. the book starts from the perspective of Sebastian- the brother and schizophrenic- receiving treatment from Dr Martin Carr.
Dr Carr's adoptive daughter Lucy is navigating life with young son and a husband who re-wilding the world!
This is a 'clever' book- clever in the sense of word play and prose but also in relation to satirising the 'chattering' classes of the London elite/wealthy- but sometimes it feels every sentence is a bit of an' in-joke' - that Mr St Aubyn is on a mission to take an ironic view of the world in such a way that nothing is truly real and it becomes a Guardian article.
The mindset of Sebastian is beautifully constructed as he navigates his understanding of modern life but it is the final quarter of this book that redeems the novel with a sense of warmth as stories are linked and new relationships are made. It would seem from the final line that a sequel may one day appear...
Personally this is a 3.5 for the final part but will give 3 overall - I just felt that wasn't truly into the mindset of the author enough although I can imagine many will be.
July 19, 2025
I absolutely love how St Aubyn approached Sebastian's character. Often representations of severe mental illness miss the personality beneath someone's diagnosis. Instead, here story we see Sebastian make psychological progress, despite a fragile plan to meet his biomom, and handle new situations with humor, play, and curiosity.
Parallel Lines can function as a standalone novel but is also a sequel to St Aubyn's Double Blind, which I have not yet read. Jumping into this story first, it is clear the characters have a lot of backstory the reader is not immediately aware of. Yet, rather than this being cumbersome, it made the depth of characters immediately apparent. Aside from Sebastian and his psychological issues stemming from a rough childhood, we also see the story lines of his doctor's family: his wife Lizzie who is also a psychoanalyst but currently enjoys spending time with her grandson, Olivia, who is working on a podcast about potential extinction events, her husband Francis who continues his work in rewilding, their son Noah who is fixated on dinosaurs for longer than expected. In addition, we get characters who are friends with Olivia (Lucy and Hunter, who seem to feature more strongly in Double Blind), an artist Sebastian met in the psych ward, and yet never does it feel there are too many characters to keep track of. Their stories initially run parallel to one another but, as expected, eventually converge.
Some of the dialogue was more than I wanted. In particular, the family discussions with the two psychoanalyst parents were often tiring, but overall I found the prose and banter to be witty. There are deep observations about how we make our choices, how our futures are determined, and the way we affect others, but even with such heavy subject matter I found myself smiling more often than not.
Parallel Lines can function as a standalone novel but is also a sequel to St Aubyn's Double Blind, which I have not yet read. Jumping into this story first, it is clear the characters have a lot of backstory the reader is not immediately aware of. Yet, rather than this being cumbersome, it made the depth of characters immediately apparent. Aside from Sebastian and his psychological issues stemming from a rough childhood, we also see the story lines of his doctor's family: his wife Lizzie who is also a psychoanalyst but currently enjoys spending time with her grandson, Olivia, who is working on a podcast about potential extinction events, her husband Francis who continues his work in rewilding, their son Noah who is fixated on dinosaurs for longer than expected. In addition, we get characters who are friends with Olivia (Lucy and Hunter, who seem to feature more strongly in Double Blind), an artist Sebastian met in the psych ward, and yet never does it feel there are too many characters to keep track of. Their stories initially run parallel to one another but, as expected, eventually converge.
Some of the dialogue was more than I wanted. In particular, the family discussions with the two psychoanalyst parents were often tiring, but overall I found the prose and banter to be witty. There are deep observations about how we make our choices, how our futures are determined, and the way we affect others, but even with such heavy subject matter I found myself smiling more often than not.
July 21, 2025
Currently part of a duology, Parallel Lines is a follow-up to Edward St. Aubyn's brilliant Double Blind. While theoretically it can be read as a standalone, I recommend reading Double Blind first, since it provides helpful background material and context. Parallel Lines begins in the mind of Sebastian, who is hospitalized after experiencing a mental breakdown. The story takes off at break-neck speed with thoughts flitting from one to another in a stream of consciousness, reflecting Sebastian’s fragile mental state.
The narrative centers on Sebastian and Olivia, twins who were separated at birth, and have led parallel lives up to this point. Sebastian has experienced trauma early in life and is now desperately seeking a connection with their mother. Meanwhile, Olivia was adopted by two psychoanalysts and has grown up in a nurturing environment. Sebastian's therapist turns out to be Olivia's adoptive father, which introduces several complications. Other key characters include Olivia’s husband, who is trying to rejuvenate nature, their precocious son, and a friend who is suffering from a brain tumor.
The novel explores dualism, determinism, connection, and compassion. It provides psychological insights while showcasing the author’s sardonic sense of humor. It also portrays how formative experiences can shape the course of a person's life. I particularly enjoyed the ending. I liked Double Blind a bit more, but St. Aubyn is an exceptional writer, and I found this book intellectually engaging from start to finish.
The narrative centers on Sebastian and Olivia, twins who were separated at birth, and have led parallel lives up to this point. Sebastian has experienced trauma early in life and is now desperately seeking a connection with their mother. Meanwhile, Olivia was adopted by two psychoanalysts and has grown up in a nurturing environment. Sebastian's therapist turns out to be Olivia's adoptive father, which introduces several complications. Other key characters include Olivia’s husband, who is trying to rejuvenate nature, their precocious son, and a friend who is suffering from a brain tumor.
The novel explores dualism, determinism, connection, and compassion. It provides psychological insights while showcasing the author’s sardonic sense of humor. It also portrays how formative experiences can shape the course of a person's life. I particularly enjoyed the ending. I liked Double Blind a bit more, but St. Aubyn is an exceptional writer, and I found this book intellectually engaging from start to finish.
July 22, 2025
Scattered ideas masquerading as characters. This book is bad, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying right to your face. Would not recommend.
July 9, 2025
PARALLEL LINES
EDWARD ST AUBYN
Thanks @aaknopf for the advance copy to review!
This novel is a smart weaving of modern philosophical problems (compassion fatigue, burnout) into narrative with sharp dialogue among characters, reminiscent of the tone I found in GODWIN by Joseph O’Neill which I really enjoyed as well. So fans of philosophical novel with a good (if not quite great) sense of humor—here it is!
Big topics: Overpopulation, ancient history, extinction, prehistory, mental illness, politics, science-deniers, healthcare, adoption, professional ethics—this novel walks through Life and turns over each stone and weighs the findings carefully with a dash of humor.
Sebastian is the main character —we get a real glimpse into his inner monologue as a person with schizophrenia. It’s funny to read from his ongoing printout of surging brain thoughts and off-the-wall connections, but I also am not completely convinced it’s a great glimpse into the mind of a patient with a schizophreniform disorder—it almost seems “fun” in this novel. (St. Aubyn seems to know this and does offer some pretty smart insight to this whole issue above.)
Also, if he’s schizophrenic just because he has a bizarre inner back and forth dialogue—heck do I have schizophrenia? Do we all? Is that one of St Aubyn’s points? Unclear. I think he’s just saying schizophrenia is not so dangerous as the world tends to stigmatize, just an excess of free lateral thinking.
Though the novel has a tendency toward absurd that makes the book more “cute” than other satire, the dialogue where the absurdism is grounded is the most captivating part of this book. The grander idea of the novel though dodged me a little. The jokey half of it is funny but feels a bit meme-y funny rather than literary funny (great British bake off jokes, brexit and Trump jokes etc).
Enjoyable, smart, readable even if not one to leave a burning stamp on the heart. A good, even excellent literary slump buster that could either go Booker longlist or unfortunately lay at the wayside of the bookstagram eye. It shouldn’t, this is worth the inspection.
EDWARD ST AUBYN
Thanks @aaknopf for the advance copy to review!
This novel is a smart weaving of modern philosophical problems (compassion fatigue, burnout) into narrative with sharp dialogue among characters, reminiscent of the tone I found in GODWIN by Joseph O’Neill which I really enjoyed as well. So fans of philosophical novel with a good (if not quite great) sense of humor—here it is!
Big topics: Overpopulation, ancient history, extinction, prehistory, mental illness, politics, science-deniers, healthcare, adoption, professional ethics—this novel walks through Life and turns over each stone and weighs the findings carefully with a dash of humor.
Sebastian is the main character —we get a real glimpse into his inner monologue as a person with schizophrenia. It’s funny to read from his ongoing printout of surging brain thoughts and off-the-wall connections, but I also am not completely convinced it’s a great glimpse into the mind of a patient with a schizophreniform disorder—it almost seems “fun” in this novel. (St. Aubyn seems to know this and does offer some pretty smart insight to this whole issue above.)
Also, if he’s schizophrenic just because he has a bizarre inner back and forth dialogue—heck do I have schizophrenia? Do we all? Is that one of St Aubyn’s points? Unclear. I think he’s just saying schizophrenia is not so dangerous as the world tends to stigmatize, just an excess of free lateral thinking.
Though the novel has a tendency toward absurd that makes the book more “cute” than other satire, the dialogue where the absurdism is grounded is the most captivating part of this book. The grander idea of the novel though dodged me a little. The jokey half of it is funny but feels a bit meme-y funny rather than literary funny (great British bake off jokes, brexit and Trump jokes etc).
Enjoyable, smart, readable even if not one to leave a burning stamp on the heart. A good, even excellent literary slump buster that could either go Booker longlist or unfortunately lay at the wayside of the bookstagram eye. It shouldn’t, this is worth the inspection.
August 10, 2025
I listened to this one via audio, and really enjoyed this book, my first by the author. It was a gem, with many parts that were snarky and made me laugh, but there were also serious topics in here that were covered well. There are a few plots with several characters going on, but they all come together by the end, and the way the author wove their stories together and connected these characters was brilliant.
I do want to note this is the second in a duology, and while it read fine as a standalone, it might have helped to have had more background on the characters but otherwise I was fine.
Thank you to @aaknopf #partner for the finished copy to review.
I do want to note this is the second in a duology, and while it read fine as a standalone, it might have helped to have had more background on the characters but otherwise I was fine.
Thank you to @aaknopf #partner for the finished copy to review.
July 25, 2025
While I’m generally the first person to champion beautiful writing for the sake of itself, I struggle with these more self-indulgent novels by established male authors who spend most of their pages riffing on whatever has captured their interest at the moment with little regard for the narrative that has to exist as a path through these things.
There were some salient points made here, some beautiful passages, some moments of solidly written humor. But most of the book feels like a very thin narrative constructed to prop up the current pet subjects of the author.
If you want to share a lot of discordant thoughts without having to make most of them plot-relevant, then making your protagonist a hospitalized schizophrenic is an effective if not in particularly good faith way to do that. To me it was pretty transparent, and that lack of authenticity makes it even more exhausting to follow the story in and out of a number of meandering rabbit warrens of text.
If you like riffing for riffing’s sake, you may enjoy this more than I did. But this novel doesn’t inspire much connection with the reader and has a lot of structural issues.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
There were some salient points made here, some beautiful passages, some moments of solidly written humor. But most of the book feels like a very thin narrative constructed to prop up the current pet subjects of the author.
If you want to share a lot of discordant thoughts without having to make most of them plot-relevant, then making your protagonist a hospitalized schizophrenic is an effective if not in particularly good faith way to do that. To me it was pretty transparent, and that lack of authenticity makes it even more exhausting to follow the story in and out of a number of meandering rabbit warrens of text.
If you like riffing for riffing’s sake, you may enjoy this more than I did. But this novel doesn’t inspire much connection with the reader and has a lot of structural issues.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
July 31, 2025
absolutely loved this!
full review: https://www.creationmag.org/blog-3-1/...
full review: https://www.creationmag.org/blog-3-1/...
June 24, 2025
St. Aubyn's new series - beginning with Double Blind and continuing with Parallel Lines - is timely and intelligent, covering everything from global warming to wealth inequity to the changing roles of art and technology in society, all wrapped up - kind of like a Wes Anderson movie - in a dysfunctional family package. Parallel lines is dialogue-heavy - lots of conversations about what people do for a living instead of our experiencing their actual doing of it - which makes it slow-moving at first, but once I got a sense of the characters and their relationships to one another, I was eager to see how they would interact, set one another off, etc. St. Aubyn seems to have this nailed on for a trilogy (or more), and I will keep reading, though there are a lot of moving parts, a lot of topics to cover in distilling modern Western life and all its crises - psychological, ecological, existential. Though it seems bleak, the novel has its moments of levity and hope, which we need (and need to remember) as we sort through all the minutia that distracts us from what really matters.
August 30, 2025
I enjoyed a lot about this book but disliked quite a bit too! It is not like any other book I have read. It has many interesting characters but they are exhausting. They cannot have an ordinary thoughts or conversations - everything they think or say is serious, bleak, intellectual, political, emotional... I would have liked them to have some more ordinary, mundane and pleasant thoughts and feelings! The only lighter part of the book was when all the main characters met at the Gallery - it became farcical and quite amusing for a while. There are also far too many coincidences in this book but the storylines kept me interested enough to keep reading to the end.
July 27, 2025
There was some anxiety reading this that one of the central characters suffering with fairly serious mental health issues would hit a crisis when confronted with previously held secrets. His fragility and his optimism in the face of his struggles was heartbreaking and I was not ready to see him suffer further. Thankfully, and without spoilers, that is not the direction of the narrative here. This is a book about healing and kindness and acceptance. It was all sorts of lovely.
May 19, 2025
4.5 stars..What a beautiful, elegant & stylish writer of prose..Brilliantly clever & entertaining..but sometimes 'too clever for his own good'.
July 3, 2025
Crowded with virtuoso writing, sometimes hard to wade through, but with a stunningly beautiful crescendo.
August 6, 2025
It was a wonderful experience to hear this brilliantly witty, scintillating, and philosophical book narrated by the uniquely gifted thespian and voice actor, the inimitable Benedict Cumberbatch!
August 3, 2025
I gave up on page 68. I have read all the Patrick Melrose novels but this is totally confusing. You are plunged into a story without any introduction to any of the characters. I never knew what I was reading and since I am a constant reader I felt bogged down and was not enjoying a minute spent with this book I simply gave up raather than waste any more of my readeing time with it. I certainly reccomend the Melrose novels. They are a real acheivement. I hate to give any book one star but I have to be honest.
July 28, 2025
Wish I had dnf’ed. The dialogue was unrealistic and mostly unnecessary, and the prose just felt forced. Also, apparently this novel is a sequel, but there was no indication of this anywhere (and I’m not sure that reading the first book would’ve made me like this one any more).
June 23, 2025
I've come to accept that nothing St. Aubyn writes is going to knock me out the way his excellent PATRICK MELROSE novels did.
That said, his command of description is always on-point, and I often envied his weaving of words and imagery. Not so for the dialogue. It's often congested and sounds mechanical and overly deliberate. And the number of characters is downright claustrophobic; some add little to the story and it can be a slog to keep up. Same goes for St. Aubyn's last novel, the forgettable (and I'm even looking up the title as I write this) DOUBLE BLIND. He's still among my favorite writers, though I hope he'll revisit memoir-driven prose next time around.
That said, his command of description is always on-point, and I often envied his weaving of words and imagery. Not so for the dialogue. It's often congested and sounds mechanical and overly deliberate. And the number of characters is downright claustrophobic; some add little to the story and it can be a slog to keep up. Same goes for St. Aubyn's last novel, the forgettable (and I'm even looking up the title as I write this) DOUBLE BLIND. He's still among my favorite writers, though I hope he'll revisit memoir-driven prose next time around.
April 14, 2025
Parallel lines are a bad premise for a novel. Fiction comes into being when characters crash into each other with unexpected results. If people stay neatly travelling on their own parallel lines, you don't have a novel—you have an episode of Norwegian slow TV.
Fortunately, Edward St Aubyn preserves the parallel lines only for the first half of the book, before ignoring the title of his novel and making those lines crisscross and intersect. This is a novel of multiple characters and different threads, but the most interesting collision is between Sebastian and Olivia, twins who were separated at birth and had never met before (except at a party a few years earlier, when they chatted briefly without realising they were siblings).
Olivia was adopted at birth by Martin and Lizzie Carr, who are more or less the ideal parents: as professional psychoanalysts, they are emotionally aware and supportive, as well as being affluent enough to give her a good start in life. She goes on to become a researcher at Oxford and later a BBC radio presenter. Her twin brother, Sebastian, on the other hand, stayed with his birth parents—an abusive father and ineffective mother—before later being adopted by a couple who seemed not to be much better. He experiences severe mental illness and is in a Suicide Observation Room when we first meet him.
As it turns out, Sebastian's psychoanalyst just happens to be Martin Carr, Olivia's father. This is revealed quite early in the book, so I don't consider it a spoiler. In fact, it was the one part of the story that I found difficult to accept. I know people in this profession, and they've told me that having a personal connection to a patient is a serious ethical breach. Martin is presented in the book as a kind, caring and professional man, a good father and a good analyst, so I find it extraordinary that he would allow this breach to go on for years without simply referring Sebastian to a colleague.
But if you can accept that, it does make for a delicious premise. When Olivia and Sebastian finally meet, Martin must feign ignorance as he talks to each of them in turn. How long will it be before they discover that they share not just the same "Bio Mum" but also the same "Psycho Dad"?
The answer comes towards the back end of the book, in an extended chapter in which we see all of the main characters preparing to attend the same gallery opening in central London. St Aubyn does a great job of stretching this part out, making good use of the large supporting cast to keep the tension going for as long as possible, before finally those parallel lines intersect.
Along the way, we get some beautiful writing and fascinating dialogue. The characters' conversations are far more witty and insightful than any I've heard even when people are performing at dinner parties, let alone in the mundane domestic settings where most of the conversations take place. Here's Martin, for example, speaking about the politics of resentment:
"The politician who knows how to stir it up will always win—making people proud of what they used to be ashamed of is such an intoxicating alchemy."
There are loads of nuggets like that throughout the book. I'm not sure if people really talk that way—even Olivia's five-year-old son Noah is a budding intellectual—but it's wonderful to read.
The early sections with Sebastian are a brilliant and utterly convincing insight into the mind of a person who is constantly free associating, his thoughts jumping from topic to topic at lightning speed, connected by obscure but strangely logical lateral thinking. His first spoken words in the novel would be easy to see as unhinged ravings:
"By that fat cow! .... We've upgraded you from a classic Having room to one of our superior Being rooms ... Give it a rest, me old son ... I don't want to be radicalised."
But these outbursts take place several pages apart, and St Aubyn also takes us through Sebastian's intervening thought processes, revealing a mind that is making creative associations which he just can't control. As the book progresses, he begins to get more control over his thoughts and words, but he still has a tendency to spin from one thought to the next in unusual ways, sometimes to his advantage and sometimes not. It's a sensitive portrait of mental illness that makes Sebastian into a very interesting and surprising character.
Large themes are strewn throughout the book, explored both through the characters' erudite conversations and through aspects of the plot. Since there are two psychoanalysts and one patient at the heart of the novel, the functioning of the human mind is central, but there's also the role of religion, the looming threat of climate change and species extinction, the nature and extent of compassion, and more.
Light also plays a major role in the novel. The gallery opening at which all the parallel lines cross is an exhibit of light art—installations that use light in creative ways to challenge the viewers' perceptions. One of the hospital nurses, who later becomes Sebastian's friend and invites him to the opening, is also a light artist, and another minor character, Hunter, is a tech billionaire who wants to install pieces of light art on his expansive property. I haven't quite thought through the symbolism of it, but I suppose it's about the interconnectedness of the characters, the way they're all groping towards a light of understanding that, as in one of the main art pieces, was "there all along", even in what seems like darkness.
So what happens when those parallel lines do intersect? Not as much as I'd hoped. I won't spoil it by giving details because this really is the climax of the novel, but I thought St Aubyn could have made more of the fallout from the gallery opening at which all of the characters meet and Martin's secret comes out. The ending felt satisfying on some levels but incomplete on others, with the central conflict only briefly explored and multiple loose ends left hanging with the minor characters.
After finishing the book and reading up about it online, I realised that this novel is part of a larger series. It's a sequel to Double Blind, which I haven't read, and although I don't think there are more books officially lined up, the ending strongly suggests to me that there will be. The author's previous Patrick Melrose series spanned five novels over the course of a decade, so I suspect this will be a similar multi-part series.
That explains the ending that left me wanting more, as well as the multiple plot lines that were introduced but didn't really go anywhere. Some, I now realise, are continuations of storylines from Double Blind, and others, I imagine, will be more fully developed in the next installment. So although Parallel Lines does have a lot to offer as a standalone novel, I think you'd probably get more from it if you read it as part of the whole series.
Fortunately, Edward St Aubyn preserves the parallel lines only for the first half of the book, before ignoring the title of his novel and making those lines crisscross and intersect. This is a novel of multiple characters and different threads, but the most interesting collision is between Sebastian and Olivia, twins who were separated at birth and had never met before (except at a party a few years earlier, when they chatted briefly without realising they were siblings).
Olivia was adopted at birth by Martin and Lizzie Carr, who are more or less the ideal parents: as professional psychoanalysts, they are emotionally aware and supportive, as well as being affluent enough to give her a good start in life. She goes on to become a researcher at Oxford and later a BBC radio presenter. Her twin brother, Sebastian, on the other hand, stayed with his birth parents—an abusive father and ineffective mother—before later being adopted by a couple who seemed not to be much better. He experiences severe mental illness and is in a Suicide Observation Room when we first meet him.
As it turns out, Sebastian's psychoanalyst just happens to be Martin Carr, Olivia's father. This is revealed quite early in the book, so I don't consider it a spoiler. In fact, it was the one part of the story that I found difficult to accept. I know people in this profession, and they've told me that having a personal connection to a patient is a serious ethical breach. Martin is presented in the book as a kind, caring and professional man, a good father and a good analyst, so I find it extraordinary that he would allow this breach to go on for years without simply referring Sebastian to a colleague.
But if you can accept that, it does make for a delicious premise. When Olivia and Sebastian finally meet, Martin must feign ignorance as he talks to each of them in turn. How long will it be before they discover that they share not just the same "Bio Mum" but also the same "Psycho Dad"?
The answer comes towards the back end of the book, in an extended chapter in which we see all of the main characters preparing to attend the same gallery opening in central London. St Aubyn does a great job of stretching this part out, making good use of the large supporting cast to keep the tension going for as long as possible, before finally those parallel lines intersect.
Along the way, we get some beautiful writing and fascinating dialogue. The characters' conversations are far more witty and insightful than any I've heard even when people are performing at dinner parties, let alone in the mundane domestic settings where most of the conversations take place. Here's Martin, for example, speaking about the politics of resentment:
"The politician who knows how to stir it up will always win—making people proud of what they used to be ashamed of is such an intoxicating alchemy."
There are loads of nuggets like that throughout the book. I'm not sure if people really talk that way—even Olivia's five-year-old son Noah is a budding intellectual—but it's wonderful to read.
The early sections with Sebastian are a brilliant and utterly convincing insight into the mind of a person who is constantly free associating, his thoughts jumping from topic to topic at lightning speed, connected by obscure but strangely logical lateral thinking. His first spoken words in the novel would be easy to see as unhinged ravings:
"By that fat cow! .... We've upgraded you from a classic Having room to one of our superior Being rooms ... Give it a rest, me old son ... I don't want to be radicalised."
But these outbursts take place several pages apart, and St Aubyn also takes us through Sebastian's intervening thought processes, revealing a mind that is making creative associations which he just can't control. As the book progresses, he begins to get more control over his thoughts and words, but he still has a tendency to spin from one thought to the next in unusual ways, sometimes to his advantage and sometimes not. It's a sensitive portrait of mental illness that makes Sebastian into a very interesting and surprising character.
Large themes are strewn throughout the book, explored both through the characters' erudite conversations and through aspects of the plot. Since there are two psychoanalysts and one patient at the heart of the novel, the functioning of the human mind is central, but there's also the role of religion, the looming threat of climate change and species extinction, the nature and extent of compassion, and more.
Light also plays a major role in the novel. The gallery opening at which all the parallel lines cross is an exhibit of light art—installations that use light in creative ways to challenge the viewers' perceptions. One of the hospital nurses, who later becomes Sebastian's friend and invites him to the opening, is also a light artist, and another minor character, Hunter, is a tech billionaire who wants to install pieces of light art on his expansive property. I haven't quite thought through the symbolism of it, but I suppose it's about the interconnectedness of the characters, the way they're all groping towards a light of understanding that, as in one of the main art pieces, was "there all along", even in what seems like darkness.
So what happens when those parallel lines do intersect? Not as much as I'd hoped. I won't spoil it by giving details because this really is the climax of the novel, but I thought St Aubyn could have made more of the fallout from the gallery opening at which all of the characters meet and Martin's secret comes out. The ending felt satisfying on some levels but incomplete on others, with the central conflict only briefly explored and multiple loose ends left hanging with the minor characters.
After finishing the book and reading up about it online, I realised that this novel is part of a larger series. It's a sequel to Double Blind, which I haven't read, and although I don't think there are more books officially lined up, the ending strongly suggests to me that there will be. The author's previous Patrick Melrose series spanned five novels over the course of a decade, so I suspect this will be a similar multi-part series.
That explains the ending that left me wanting more, as well as the multiple plot lines that were introduced but didn't really go anywhere. Some, I now realise, are continuations of storylines from Double Blind, and others, I imagine, will be more fully developed in the next installment. So although Parallel Lines does have a lot to offer as a standalone novel, I think you'd probably get more from it if you read it as part of the whole series.
June 12, 2025
I am not sure what this was but I did not like it. I thought all the Patrick Melrose novels were excellent. If the intent was to make this feel like a dissociative disorder in action, then it worked for that. All the scenes and characters were discombobulated and nothing came together. The dialogue featured too-perfect language. People don’t speak like that.
May 14, 2025
Finalist for the 2025 Orwell Prize
I read and enjoyed (with reservations mainly around the character’s in the novel and the character of the author) Edward St Aubyn’s Patrick Melrose Quintology/Trilogy ((the first three books are commonly published together) in 2012. The second/fourth book “Mother’s Milk” was close to winning the 2006 Booker Prize (losing 4-1 in the final vote to the appalled surprise of the “1” – Anthony Quinn). In 2011 many critics and readers felt the last volume (appropriately “At Last”) would win the prize but it failed to even be longlisted in the infamous Stella Rimmington “readability”/”zip along” year which gave rise to no less than two new and deliberately more ��literary” prizes (the Folio and the Goldsmiths”) and a 2014 Booker-satire by St Aubyn “Lost for Words”.
In 2021 I read his then new novel “Double Blind” and while elements of its were preposterous I concluded that I found it the most intellectually entertaining (or entertainingly intellectual) novel that I read in that year with its treatment of bio-diversity and extinction, epigenetics, brain mapping, venture capitalism, rewilding, the nature of consciousness, mind/brain dichotomy, psychoanalysis, mental heath and much more.
And this novel is a direct sequel to the first and while it can be read standalone – that is a little like saying that you can pick up a novel and read the second half only standalone – its neither what is intended I believe or certainly the right way to appreciate the novel and in fact will I think have a similar experience of finding yourself among a group of characters and plotlines already underway with limited backstory provided (the backstory of course being in the first book).
In particular the novel draws on a theme which particularly resonated for me in the first novel – twins – and in particular the separated at birth and both adopted pairing (with their Twelfth Night nod names) Olivia (adopted daughter of two psychoanalysts) and Sebastian (who is a patient of Olivia’s adopted father),
It follows both of the twins on their initially parallel paths (Olivia parenthood with her extremely unrealistically precocious young child Noah, Sebastian coming gradually to terms with managing his his schizophrenia – which thankfully also allows St Aubyn to gradually manage down his steam of connections chapters) and then on their inevitable intersection (which takes place at another of the slightly damp-squib set piece get togethers of all characters which seem to characterise this new series – but does feature the memorable both pre-imagined and double-meaning line “We don’t only have the same bio Mum we have the same psycho Dad”) – and perhaps more movingly through to the aftermath of the discovery of their connection in a closing section.
Other main characters from the previous novel also feature: Hunter takes more of a back seat as a point of view character and he has largely sold his venture capitalist investments and acts now as more a donor/sponsor – his sponsoring of art giving the novel much of its opportunities for the characters to meet; Lucy and he now seem partners and her continuing struggles with her brain tumour underpin the novel; and perhaps most oddly they remain friends with Guido the priest who acts as something of a naïve outsider in the narrative – one has the impression that St Aubyn has transferred to his characters his reluctance to discard an otherwise redundant character.
As well as having more character and feeling than the heavily exposition based first novel there is much more “art” and less “science” in this volume than the first – albeit one of the key themes of the novel is the artificial divide that has grown between the two (and between experimentation and experience, medicine and more holistic practices, and between disciplines in science).
The novel featuring for example the ballets of Crystal Pite and particularly “Statement” and her part of “Figures in Extinction”, Olafur Eliasson’s “Little Sun” (of course a deliberate science and art collaboration) and more than anything the light installations of James Turrell (including his installation at Houghton Hall).
Overall, while perhaps not up to the heights of “Double Blind” in isolation together it makes for an excellent series with the final part (and the penultimate sentence “To be Continued”) more than hinting at a welcome third volume in the series.
My thanks to Random House UK Vintage, Jonathan Cape for an ARC via NetGalley
Anyway, it had turned out all right because Emma was late, and the ice was made by the time she arrived. She said she thought it was an excellent experiment, but they should repeat it under more scientific conditions. So, she asked Mum for three glasses of white wine, put lots of ice in one and started drinking it, which didn’t seem to Noah especially scientific; and after marking the level of the wine in the second glass, dropped an ice cube in and marked where the new level was, and left the third glass with just wine in it – she said that was the ‘control group’, which made it a ‘double blind’ experiment, and because they were all there to witness the results, it was being ‘peer reviewed’, whereas if he had just reported his findings from the bath, the claims might have become part of the ‘replication crisis’, when nobody else could get the same results and started to question his ‘methodology’, saying he hadn’t taken account of evaporation, or had used the wrong sort of plug. Mum and Dad were smiling away, as if she was being funny, but all Noah wanted to know was whether the Solomon Islands had disappeared.
I read and enjoyed (with reservations mainly around the character’s in the novel and the character of the author) Edward St Aubyn’s Patrick Melrose Quintology/Trilogy ((the first three books are commonly published together) in 2012. The second/fourth book “Mother’s Milk” was close to winning the 2006 Booker Prize (losing 4-1 in the final vote to the appalled surprise of the “1” – Anthony Quinn). In 2011 many critics and readers felt the last volume (appropriately “At Last”) would win the prize but it failed to even be longlisted in the infamous Stella Rimmington “readability”/”zip along” year which gave rise to no less than two new and deliberately more ��literary” prizes (the Folio and the Goldsmiths”) and a 2014 Booker-satire by St Aubyn “Lost for Words”.
In 2021 I read his then new novel “Double Blind” and while elements of its were preposterous I concluded that I found it the most intellectually entertaining (or entertainingly intellectual) novel that I read in that year with its treatment of bio-diversity and extinction, epigenetics, brain mapping, venture capitalism, rewilding, the nature of consciousness, mind/brain dichotomy, psychoanalysis, mental heath and much more.
And this novel is a direct sequel to the first and while it can be read standalone – that is a little like saying that you can pick up a novel and read the second half only standalone – its neither what is intended I believe or certainly the right way to appreciate the novel and in fact will I think have a similar experience of finding yourself among a group of characters and plotlines already underway with limited backstory provided (the backstory of course being in the first book).
In particular the novel draws on a theme which particularly resonated for me in the first novel – twins – and in particular the separated at birth and both adopted pairing (with their Twelfth Night nod names) Olivia (adopted daughter of two psychoanalysts) and Sebastian (who is a patient of Olivia’s adopted father),
It follows both of the twins on their initially parallel paths (Olivia parenthood with her extremely unrealistically precocious young child Noah, Sebastian coming gradually to terms with managing his his schizophrenia – which thankfully also allows St Aubyn to gradually manage down his steam of connections chapters) and then on their inevitable intersection (which takes place at another of the slightly damp-squib set piece get togethers of all characters which seem to characterise this new series – but does feature the memorable both pre-imagined and double-meaning line “We don’t only have the same bio Mum we have the same psycho Dad”) – and perhaps more movingly through to the aftermath of the discovery of their connection in a closing section.
Other main characters from the previous novel also feature: Hunter takes more of a back seat as a point of view character and he has largely sold his venture capitalist investments and acts now as more a donor/sponsor – his sponsoring of art giving the novel much of its opportunities for the characters to meet; Lucy and he now seem partners and her continuing struggles with her brain tumour underpin the novel; and perhaps most oddly they remain friends with Guido the priest who acts as something of a naïve outsider in the narrative – one has the impression that St Aubyn has transferred to his characters his reluctance to discard an otherwise redundant character.
As well as having more character and feeling than the heavily exposition based first novel there is much more “art” and less “science” in this volume than the first – albeit one of the key themes of the novel is the artificial divide that has grown between the two (and between experimentation and experience, medicine and more holistic practices, and between disciplines in science).
The novel featuring for example the ballets of Crystal Pite and particularly “Statement” and her part of “Figures in Extinction”, Olafur Eliasson’s “Little Sun” (of course a deliberate science and art collaboration) and more than anything the light installations of James Turrell (including his installation at Houghton Hall).
Overall, while perhaps not up to the heights of “Double Blind” in isolation together it makes for an excellent series with the final part (and the penultimate sentence “To be Continued”) more than hinting at a welcome third volume in the series.
My thanks to Random House UK Vintage, Jonathan Cape for an ARC via NetGalley
‘That’s a false dichotomy,’ said Hunter. ‘When you’re looking at the photo, that’s the radiant present; when you’re looking through the window, same thing. The difference is that the photos make us think of the convergence of parallel lines. The horizon is a vanishing line made by our way of seeing. The sea and the sky don’t ever meet.’
April 30, 2025
I absolutely loved this book. It follows on from, and we catch up with, the characters first introduced in Double Blind and you do need to read that book first to really get under the skin of what happens in this. Oh and before I forget, this book isn't the end for them either, or so it appears. I'm thinking probably trilogy rather than series, bit who knows how far the author will take them...
So, if you recall, at the end of the last book we had Sebastian meeting Olivia at a do where she is a guest and he a waiter. Unbeknown to them, they are related. To ice that cake, Olivia's adopted father Martin is Sebastian's psychotherapist.
This book picks them up 5 years later. Olivia is still with Francis who is still off on his rewilding escapades, and they are now parents to Noah. Sebastian has had a breakdown and is in hospital still under the care of Martin, and a nurse called Helio. Lucy is in treatment for her brain tumour, with boyfriend Hunter off seeking help for himself in an Italian Monastery, hosted by the abbott, Guido.
Although there is a lot going on with the supporting cast, the main focus is on Olivia and Sebastian and the two of them circling around each other. Whether they do meet properly, and how that impacts both of them, and their relationships with the other cast, especially with regards to medical ethics, I will have to leave for you to discover for yourself.
One of the things I love about this book, and its predecessor, is the way the author portrays Sebastian's fractured mind. His running commentary, his inward thoughts. All delivered in a wonderfully lyrical way and with such logic that actually had me rethinking quite a lot of my own thoughts and conceptions. I especially loved his interactions with certain other cast members, spoilers prevent me from going into detail though.
As with Double Blind, there are parts of this book that are a bit over my head. Intellectually speaking. But that doesn't really matter as I was able to just read through these parts and it didn't appear to mar my overall enjoyment of the book.
There were a few political moments and obviously covid was mentioned in dispatches but these were all in alignment with the characters and the time and setting.
And then there's the wit and humour which, happily, is right on my wavelength. Double Blind and this book are the only two books I have read by this author thus far but I have added the Patrick Melrose books to my ever growing TBR to keep me going until the next in this series is released.
My thanks go to the Publisher and Netgalley for the chance to read this book.
So, if you recall, at the end of the last book we had Sebastian meeting Olivia at a do where she is a guest and he a waiter. Unbeknown to them, they are related. To ice that cake, Olivia's adopted father Martin is Sebastian's psychotherapist.
This book picks them up 5 years later. Olivia is still with Francis who is still off on his rewilding escapades, and they are now parents to Noah. Sebastian has had a breakdown and is in hospital still under the care of Martin, and a nurse called Helio. Lucy is in treatment for her brain tumour, with boyfriend Hunter off seeking help for himself in an Italian Monastery, hosted by the abbott, Guido.
Although there is a lot going on with the supporting cast, the main focus is on Olivia and Sebastian and the two of them circling around each other. Whether they do meet properly, and how that impacts both of them, and their relationships with the other cast, especially with regards to medical ethics, I will have to leave for you to discover for yourself.
One of the things I love about this book, and its predecessor, is the way the author portrays Sebastian's fractured mind. His running commentary, his inward thoughts. All delivered in a wonderfully lyrical way and with such logic that actually had me rethinking quite a lot of my own thoughts and conceptions. I especially loved his interactions with certain other cast members, spoilers prevent me from going into detail though.
As with Double Blind, there are parts of this book that are a bit over my head. Intellectually speaking. But that doesn't really matter as I was able to just read through these parts and it didn't appear to mar my overall enjoyment of the book.
There were a few political moments and obviously covid was mentioned in dispatches but these were all in alignment with the characters and the time and setting.
And then there's the wit and humour which, happily, is right on my wavelength. Double Blind and this book are the only two books I have read by this author thus far but I have added the Patrick Melrose books to my ever growing TBR to keep me going until the next in this series is released.
My thanks go to the Publisher and Netgalley for the chance to read this book.
September 4, 2025
St. Aubyn's writing is like someone on the manic end of a manic-depressive binge. The banter is frenetic. The brilliance crackles. He skates so knowingly close to the edge I fear for him. And he can riff on anything—psyche wards, The Goldwater Rule, Lacan, the eye’s rods and cones, and it leaves you shaking your head in amazement. This is not the Big Lebowski quoting, white-guy-in-a-wool-cap who believes deeply that he is the smartest cat in the room, riff. This is New Yorker fact-checker smart, intelligence by osmosis from growing up in a world of biting and “keep up” conversation.
While Martin Amis, another Brit of that certain set, brilliantly wrote of people who careen through life on appetites so large they consume them, St. Aubyn covers the psychologically scarred, super-intelligent with the same head-shaking wonder at how he does it (cf: fearing for him). We know from the Melrose novels why he can write the psychologically scarred so brilliantly, and in this book, Sebastian carries the mantle of damage, though the damage is not as horrendous as the original. Indeed, the first 90 pages are a tour de force.
But then… I got bored. Dare I say it? St. Aubyn is one of those writers serious bookstore owners swoon over. His merciless barbs, his disdain so expertly dished is what draws us, surely. If only I could slay my enemy like that at a dinner party. We love reading (from our safe vantage point) his takedowns of classist “snobbery of contempt,” as he’s called the assumption that those outside your tribe can be treated as if not fully human. But after 90 pages of brilliant, if lifeless, wit/prose, it all becomes a bore. There’s no blood in those characters’ scalps. Dialogue is a platform only. It’s less a story and more a spouting off. I began to wonder why St. Aubyn gravitates toward fiction instead of essay. Sebastian does have his moments as the damaged naif, the innocent lamb, who with childlike awe pokes the pretensions on display (his innocent brilliance captivates the others, but as sport). Of them all, and there are many, Sebastian is the only character I cared for. He is a flawed antihero whom I rooted for, like Patrick Melrose. The others? Interchangeable archetypes.
And there’s more to come? Why does St. Aubyn like these people this much to write two, and purportedly three, books about them? If he could show that on the page more, then I’d be all in.
While Martin Amis, another Brit of that certain set, brilliantly wrote of people who careen through life on appetites so large they consume them, St. Aubyn covers the psychologically scarred, super-intelligent with the same head-shaking wonder at how he does it (cf: fearing for him). We know from the Melrose novels why he can write the psychologically scarred so brilliantly, and in this book, Sebastian carries the mantle of damage, though the damage is not as horrendous as the original. Indeed, the first 90 pages are a tour de force.
But then… I got bored. Dare I say it? St. Aubyn is one of those writers serious bookstore owners swoon over. His merciless barbs, his disdain so expertly dished is what draws us, surely. If only I could slay my enemy like that at a dinner party. We love reading (from our safe vantage point) his takedowns of classist “snobbery of contempt,” as he’s called the assumption that those outside your tribe can be treated as if not fully human. But after 90 pages of brilliant, if lifeless, wit/prose, it all becomes a bore. There’s no blood in those characters’ scalps. Dialogue is a platform only. It’s less a story and more a spouting off. I began to wonder why St. Aubyn gravitates toward fiction instead of essay. Sebastian does have his moments as the damaged naif, the innocent lamb, who with childlike awe pokes the pretensions on display (his innocent brilliance captivates the others, but as sport). Of them all, and there are many, Sebastian is the only character I cared for. He is a flawed antihero whom I rooted for, like Patrick Melrose. The others? Interchangeable archetypes.
And there’s more to come? Why does St. Aubyn like these people this much to write two, and purportedly three, books about them? If he could show that on the page more, then I’d be all in.
April 12, 2025
Before you read this book, you should know that it’s a sequel to St Aubyn’s 2021 novel ‘Double Blind’. Before reading this review, you should know that I did not know that before reading this book. I made that discovery when I was 70% through this book, and thinking “wow, this is a weird way to structure a book. Who are all of these people? Kind of weird that we get very little backstory about any of them!”
Does anything I have to say about this book hold any value now? Unsure! Hard not to feel like most of my issues with it could have been resolved by reading the preceding novel. As a standalone novel, this feels pretty unfocused, flitting between characters who are barely introduced and plot lines that are hard to follow - and don’t seem to tie in to the main strand of this story much at all! However, I’m sure they probably do tie in to the wider story of the series and so they likely make a lot more sense with that context. This novel literally ends with a character saying “to be continued” and none of the plot strands get any closure, so it’s safe to say there’s more coming.
There are a couple of other reviews on Goodreads suggesting that this can be read as a standalone. I don’t wholly disagree, I clearly could and did read it as a standalone, and I enjoyed my time with it just fine. Chapters focused on Sebastian are particularly engaging, with the stream-of-consciousness and scattered prose mirroring his own mental health issues in a really inventive way. The main plot following Sebastian meeting his twin sister and the way the majority of the characters’ stories intersect is really neatly plotted, and enjoyable to uncover. I did have issues with the sheer intellectualism of the novel, though - every single character in this novel, including the 5 year-old, is unbelievably introspective and analytical. There are pages upon pages of philosophical discussions that do not feel like authentic conversations that real people actually have, and these become a bit of a slog to wade through.
Just because you CAN read this as a standalone novel, though, it doesn’t mean you should - you shouldn’t. Read the first one first. I haven’t, but I’m pretty confident that this is a better novel when you actually know what’s going on.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the e-ARC in exchange for a review.
Does anything I have to say about this book hold any value now? Unsure! Hard not to feel like most of my issues with it could have been resolved by reading the preceding novel. As a standalone novel, this feels pretty unfocused, flitting between characters who are barely introduced and plot lines that are hard to follow - and don’t seem to tie in to the main strand of this story much at all! However, I’m sure they probably do tie in to the wider story of the series and so they likely make a lot more sense with that context. This novel literally ends with a character saying “to be continued” and none of the plot strands get any closure, so it’s safe to say there’s more coming.
There are a couple of other reviews on Goodreads suggesting that this can be read as a standalone. I don’t wholly disagree, I clearly could and did read it as a standalone, and I enjoyed my time with it just fine. Chapters focused on Sebastian are particularly engaging, with the stream-of-consciousness and scattered prose mirroring his own mental health issues in a really inventive way. The main plot following Sebastian meeting his twin sister and the way the majority of the characters’ stories intersect is really neatly plotted, and enjoyable to uncover. I did have issues with the sheer intellectualism of the novel, though - every single character in this novel, including the 5 year-old, is unbelievably introspective and analytical. There are pages upon pages of philosophical discussions that do not feel like authentic conversations that real people actually have, and these become a bit of a slog to wade through.
Just because you CAN read this as a standalone novel, though, it doesn’t mean you should - you shouldn’t. Read the first one first. I haven’t, but I’m pretty confident that this is a better novel when you actually know what’s going on.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the e-ARC in exchange for a review.
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