THE MAKER OF SWANS

A labyrinthine journey from a master craftsman of language and storytelling.

Like O’Donnell’s previous book, The House on Vesper Sands, this novel is determined to unfold at its own pace. There are layers of narrative within the framework of gothic suspense, with a limited but rich cast of characters whose backgrounds and motivations are revealed only slowly. One of the pleasures of this genre is seeing how the disparate threads of the novel come together, and O’Donnell weaves a careful tapestry. Central to the story is Eustace, butler—although really much more—to the mysterious Mr. Crowe, who possesses supernatural powers that are never really explained. An act of random violence (which turns out to be not so random) sparks a chain of events which draws Clara, a young mute girl who lives in Mr. Crowe’s sprawling mansion, into the clutches of some shadowy villains and, ultimately, to the revelation of her own abilities. Significantly, those powers connect to the act of writing, of imagination, of creation. So it is fitting that the story is reflected by O’Donnell’s use of language, which is unfailingly evocative and beautiful. He is able to find poetry in dowdy, simple things, even an arrangement of cutlery or a piece of fabric. The action, when it comes, has an edge like a razor, and even a knife fight is described like a dance. Readers who are looking for a sorcery-driven blockbuster of rollicking heroes will not find it here. This novel is more like a maze that has to be negotiated step by step, with paths that sometimes bend back on themselves or lead to unexpected turns. The conclusion, when it is reached, is strange but satisfying, with a sense of inevitability that is appropriate to the tone of the book. Not a happy ending, perhaps, but the right one.

This story requires time and attention, but the rewards are worth the journey.