After reading the wonderful What I Loved, I was keen for another fix of Siri Hustvedt's beautiful writing and characterisation. The Sorrows of an American revolves around psychiatrist Erik, who narrates the story, and his sister Inga (who was briefly mentioned in What I Loved - the latter's narrator, Leo, also makes a cameo appearance here). It opens with Erik and Inga finding a mysterious letter amongst their father's papers after his death, and initially seems to be about their search to discover what this letter means. But what unfolds is much more complicated than that, a sprawling story with various divergences. As well as the first letter-related mystery, which comes about as Erik reads his father's memoir and remembers/imagines his family's past, there's a second: Inga discovers her late husband Max had an affair, possibly fathering a child, and his former lover now wants to sell a cache of his love letters to an aggressive journalist. Erik, meanwhile, begins to develop feelings for Miranda, who has recently moved into his building with her daughter, Eglantine, irritatingly referred to throughout as Eggy (I almost knocked off a star just for this). This in turn leads him to be drawn into the saga of Miranda's relationship with Eglantine's father, an eccentric and possibly abusive artist. As Erik examines his (and his family's) emotions and memories, he also analyses his experiences with his patients, both their own troubles and the effect these have on his state of mind.

The vivid, evocative descriptions of art of various kinds (Jeff's art and photography; Miranda's drawings of the visions she sees in her nightmares; Max's films, the latter realised in a particularly striking manner) are familiar from What I Loved. Because of Erik's occupation, they're accompanied by the narrator's meandering (I mean that in a good way) interpretations as he strives to make sense of this 'year of secrets'. The qualities of Hustvedt's writing are difficult to explain, as the beauty of it is in the way you're drawn in to the characters' thoughts and feelings. Her characters seem truly human in a way fictitious people rarely do - I'd never thought before about the mental effects a therapist might suffer as a result of their patients' issues, but Erik's vulnerability and doubt are painfully realistic. And despite being seen wholly through the eyes of others (or the filter of Erik's lust) with little opportunity for her own development, Miranda is a wonderful character. You get tantalising glimpses of her history, thoughts and dreams which create the impression that she may have a more fascinating story to tell than anyone else. The same thing happens with so many of the characters - little windows on their depths which make them seem so REAL, for example Inga's trouble with the journalist forcing her to recall memories of childhood bullying. It seems like Hustvedt has thought the characters through to such an extent that there's a book's worth of material behind each of them. Clearly, in the case of Leo, this actually was the case.

The weakest aspect of the book is the autobiographical experts from the writings of Erik's father, Lars. In a note at the end of the book, Hustvedt explains these sections are based on her own late father's life, and in fact the extracts from Lars' memoir are taken, almost verbatim, from his. I felt a bit guilty for not liking them after discovering this, but it does at least explain why they never quite seem to fit with the rest of the narrative and at some points feel awkward, as if they've been forced in to a story they don't belong to (I really did think this before I knew about their origins). While I understand how the book's themes are frequently entwined with ideas about family and how our ancestors' histories shape us, the family history element of the novel is sometimes dull and flat compared to the vibrancy of the rest. This leads to a slight lack of cohesion which prevented me from finding this book as inspiring as What I Loved.

That said, I still think any fan of Hustvedt will find it engaging, if only for the labyrinthine characterisation and powerful descriptions. While I wasn't always entirely captivated by the plot, and thought the book would have been stronger without the 'memoir' portions, it's beautifully written. Thought-provoking, too - for example the ambiguous title; does it refer to Erik, his father, or some bigger concept of 'an American' embodied by all of the characters? I will be adding the rest of the author's oeuvre to my ever-expanding to-read list, and I hope I bump into some of the characters from this book again.