I got a review copy of this Sunday week for half-price a day before the official publication date. I was well chuffed indeed.

And of course, it was pretty good, Banville at his Black-est. Plenty of fun with somewhat stock characters: Dublin toffs (of both RC and Prod varieties), Trinty boys (this being the '50s, of course they're boys), and the lovable, taciturn, Midlands-bred Inspector Hackett, as well as the enigmatic pathologist Quirke. Add in the now-familiar extended family of Quirke—his daughter Phoebe, his adopted brother Malachy among others, and we're ready for a rollicking ride through the even-numbers postal disctricts of 1950s Dublin. (It does seem odd that the action never seems to cross the Liffey in this particular book.)

I won't dwell on the plot, it's unimportant: two men die, other people cause it, still others (our nominal "heros") figure out who they are and why they did it. Along the way there's enough love, loathing and lust to keep things fun.