Do some novels work better read rather than heard? I ask because I both read and listened to , the third novel by Irish writer Paul Murray, whose was one of my favourites of recent years. This is international banking, but not as we know it. Our hero is a troubled Irish banker driven to success by a father who immediately resented his achievements. Returning from Paris to Dublin, he works for the extraordinary Bank of Torabundo, which survived 2008's global crash only to be taken over by the ruthlessly amoral Porter Blankly. If the bounce of Murray's prose makes the audiobook a dream, then the metafictional game proves a distraction. There is a writer-character called Paul ("Idea for a novel: we have a banker rob his own bank") and a less-than-subtle French philosopher who has written a study called (attendez vous) (vraiment). This self-conscious layer definitely suits the eye better than the ear.
In similar vein to Sebastian Faulks and the rather better William Boyd, Louis de Bernières offers epic historical fiction with a hint of something peculiar. His big hit, , blended love, war and, well, mandolins. De Bernières' new and ninth novel does much the same, albeit in a different period. Opening in England before the first world war, it serves up three families linked by friendship, geography and an infant love triangle involving the nicely judged Ashbridge, Daniel and Rosie, whose fortunes we follow through the war: Daniel becomes a flyer, Rosie volunteers as a nurse and Ashbridge joins the artillery. The bulk of the story occupies the post-war fallout as the fairly vast cast come to terms with loss and restoration. David Sibley and Avita Jay do a good job of bringing de Bernières' endlessly star-crossed characters to life. The feeling remains, however, that there is rather too much calm and not enough storm.
