Book Review || Twist (2025)
"Anthony Fennell, an Irish journalist and playwright, is assigned to cover the underwater cables that carry the world’s information."
: 🌕 : SPOILER ALERT : 🌕 :
Troubles of all sorts masquerading as progress. Violence of a malevolent force traversing generations. A famine of modern means, scalping hope from the bone like flees from tweed; oh, how catastrophic humanity lends itself to being. Through supple verse & hymns of classic veneration, what plagues a person most is what is unsaid, that which lives in the burrows of their heart. Yet, cataclysmic terror does not a good story make. A writer must pen from the putrid, must wander through the muck, reaching through the crisp pines for the hand of a stranger, asking them to listen, asking them to care.
“The initial mystery of any journey is not so much where you will end up, but how you got to the starting point at all.”
What caught my eye & what held my gaze, was the cover art. Every little bit I found myself wandering back to the book’s page where I stared at the cover, eyes roaming over the listed genres & the character’s journey. Originally, I was conflicted about requesting this book. I have not hidden my reviews since I began writing them & so understand when an author or a Publishing House decides against the chance of fate; the coin toss that I might write 2,000 words of venom about their prized possession. There was, however, hope that I would receive a copy of this book.
I was hopeful because the main character appealed to me in a way I cannot quite explain. Anthony is in his middle age when we meet him & he is not altogether a man another person would trust, nor is he a character readers will learn to love.
In fact, I found that the hope I held festered in me, growing into anticipation; I needed to read this book. Now that the task has been completed, I wonder whether or not my hope was unfounded. I cannot say that all readers will appreciate the gentle tug of the plot, the ploy of the lost soul, nor the terrorism that is forgiven by those who miss the assailant. Regardless, I find myself wandering back down the dock, waiting to catch a glimpse of the waves that brought Anthony to the precipice of change.
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In essence, this is a book about underwater cables. The main premise focuses on the Georges Lecointe ship & her mission to sail from South Africa to Ghana to fix a cable that has been severed. The narrative presents readers with a cast of characters, a crew of diverse men whose experiences assemble them on deck with a common goal. The story itself furrows brows with its slow pace & redundant reflections. A reader will be forgiven for wondering whether something of marvellous value will be presented as they flip one page after the other, in wait.
For readers who come upon this book hoping to find a mystery or longing to be met with a story that will riddle them with intrigue, McCann’s novel will not give them what they want. This is not a bad thing. I view this as an important distinction for what is written inside the bind is of value in its own right, though it does not cast a shadow to squander Pan’s. Rather, this book is an Odyssey the likes of which patient readers will appreciate for its secluded setting & raving madness.
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Anthony, the main character, is a man who remembers the Troubles in Ireland; a man whose home was silent but for the nagging guilt that choked its inhabitants & the revulsive regret that capsized their beings. His decision to write a book about Conway came to him as he watched the man become a person led by a cause unheard by other ears.
For Anthony, bearing witness to a man with so much dialogue left unsaid, & so many days spent in intentional isolation, was curious. The two characters could be brothers or best friends, readers will note the similarities between the two as they pretend to forget from whence they came.
Here we too arrive at the precise moment of importance. This story revels in the pensiveness of belonging, & the turmoil of a place revolutionized by Church, State, & partisan. For Anthony, reminders of his childhood bring him a sickening nostalgia, whereas Conway acts as though he lives there still, in the moors near where his mother’s boat capsized.
It is intriguing to witness two characters mirror each other so profoundly. The relationship that they develop is built on their homeland. However, neither man seems eager to remind the other that they come from a land small in geography & suffocating in historical impacts.
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I often found myself wondering if the men could have been true friends, had they met at another time, in another life. The story explores the downfall of Conway as he abandons the Georges Lecointe to pursue terrorism against the underground cables, leaving bombs attached which may—ideally—not impact or harm others but which could—quite probably—kill a person. By the end of the book, the reader has learnt that Conway was the perpetrator of his own demise. He died having dived to reach a cable off the Egyptian coast to break it apart, the blast leaving his carcass for the ocean life.
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The author includes interesting tidbits about the logistics of underwater cables. The feeds drive our land-based communication & allow us to maintain some semblance of awareness about the world around us. What each character is left wondering is whether this is a positive reality for humanity.
Surely, at face value, our ability to communicate & transfer information with one another at such speed & with such frequency is a positive thing. The world has never before been so known to us & yet we are constantly faced with problems of our own making. What do we do about plastic pollution in the oceans & lakes? What happens when the glaciers melt? Are we supposed to know everything about the world or were we better off ignorant of our follies?
Anthony seems of the mind that awareness is a consequence of existence. In times of trouble, he mentally returns to things he has not thought about for years. This practice seems to soothe him as he wanders the world on the heels of great figures of change. Never does he question whether the words he writes should be penned or whether the words he says should be spoken.
In fact, Anthony, though a man of earnest intention, remains placated by the actions of others so much so that he has allowed his son to wander into the arms of others, rather than offering up his own. Will the reader fault him for this?
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When exploring Anthony’s character one must wonder at the early days. A person is not who they are when we meet them without the moon’s company over many nights & sun’s warm watchful rays. Yet, few of us ever learn enough about one another to fully appreciate the journey of life.
While reading Anthony’s story, I felt conflicted. At times, he felt it in his ability to share more of himself than he would receive. In fact, he will never know the reader intimately, & will never have the chance to converse with the person consuming his story.
These chapters, more so these sections, were of particular importance because they lend themselves as explanations for both Anthony & Conway. Neither man will be fully transparent with anyone. I rather doubt there has come a time in their lives where they felt it was to their benefit to call to their experiences like art exhibited in a museum. I will not fault them for that.
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Anthony’s small moments of vulnerability where he speaks truth to power, coining the tendrils of an un-beating tremor, will remind readers of the reality that besought the characters. There is certainly no need to excuse either man’s behaviour, they do not make excuses for their choices & I am rather inclined to believe that they would be distraught at the prospect of pity.
Yet, it is important to remember what sent Conway into the ocean’s depths & what led Anthony to isolate himself on a freight ship. Potentially, the gravity of their upbringing will be lost on the reader. Their need for a grand mystery of terror may supersede the calming tone of the truth; some people never escape the confines built inside them.
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What I appreciated most about this novel was how simple it was. Men on the ocean repairing cables. Men on the ocean caught in the tidal waves of their burdens. That being said, I did find some moments annoying. Zenele was not a person who read to me as genuine. I suppose this is because everyone in the story felt so enamoured by her, that everything she said had a twang of falsehood.
Certainly, because the reader learns about her by proxy of Anthony, it is not surprising that I felt so conflicted about her character. However, as the story progressed, I felt that there were two truths. Zee was a person who adopted the role of other people, the roles built for make-believe, she voiced things that were not her words & was given praise for their delivery. I found her taunts about the guilt of humanity flawed & her deity-like essence pruned at the edges.
I will not pretend to have adored any character in this book, I rather doubt that was the author’s goal. However, the faults & flaws of the cast of primary & secondary characters felt authentic & though they may not have wanted to be transparent about themselves, they lived in truth, no matter the cost.
When I regard the characters for what they are & what they contributed to the story I welcome them all. The silent wandering legs aboard the ship, the silent prayers of longing for something different, the careful prodding for vulnerability faced with one another, & the reflection they saw in the mirror.
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Ultimately, I enjoyed this story because it was enough of what it was to succeed at being what it hoped to become. The narrative studies the reality of access to information & the toll this has taken on humanity. Our inability to wander the grooves of awareness torments progress as we covet repetition redundantly.
The setting gathered a cloak of wet wallowing into the gore of each word, every memory a soggy state of affairs. The reader will choose whether they wish to regard this novel as the romanced tale of a man who wished no longer to know & forget the messages he could not send or, whether they wish to interpret the tale as a swan song of longing for an end, near & dear to their heart.
There will be no resolution that pleases the reader & their interpretations will vary. Should a person come across this story they will be met with the turbulent nature of the species & the journeys we undergo to be met with ourselves.
The numbing isolation of the truth can be met when the reader is prepared to settle on its existence. Coyly the author closes his story to fondle the airways he has yet to navigate; memories of a world he once knew. One day, the reader may come to find that Anthony, like many, has forgotten parts of himself in the past. Conway was perhaps attempting to set his countryman free from the rumbling nature of war that wiggled the doorhandle, cooing for entry into the green wide yonder of home.
Thank you to NetGalley, Random House, & Colum McCann for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
C. 💌