Much more than a mystery, we get losses here in many forms, the heavy hand of history, the endlessness of violence once it is unleashed; we get the mutations of violence, deep irony, the pain of a good man who causes harm and the tortuous course of his effort to right his wrong as far as possible. We see the ease with which a whole culture aligns itself with those in power without regard to ideology or decency. These themes are tributaries to a broad theme that suggests moral decency is merely a matter of applying the right cosmetics and a tacit complicity of the whole community of the powerful.
Yes, as many Goodreads reviewers noted, the story does involve a strain of anti-Semitism and the devastating effect of such abuse on one character. But the main conflicts are not between Germans or Italians on the one hand and the Jews on the other. The violence in story time is instead between Partisans (Communists) and those who helped the Germans. The recurrent moral concerns are less about anti-Semitism than about the themes mentioned in the first paragraph.
The setting in Venice adds to the pleasure of reading this book if you’ve spent a little time there, especially on the Dorsoduro. You might have difficulty following some of the physical movements in the calles and canals of Venice, but it doesn’t really matter because the twist and turns of the plot are not dependent upon understanding exactly where in the real Venice the characters may be at any given moment. Kanon does a wonderful, amazing job of first making you doubt who is telling the truth, doubt which story is real, and then taking you through one twist after another, or maybe I should say through layers of truth, bringing you in the end to see that in immediate postwar Venice, keeping the cosmetic mask in place is so important that more crimes can be committed to to sustain the appearance of civilization.
The book presents many long dialogues. Many mimic life closely in the sense that characters sometimes argue without much coherence, that they repeat themselves, answer indirectly, repeat themselves again. I’m not sure whether Kanon wanted to achieve the realism of a transcript or a tape recorder or whether he was trying to increase tension by changing the words of the dialog just enough to give tiny increments of insight or information. For me it the repetition of the same essential idea in dialog was boring. For example, the same character in the same dialog repeatedly say, “You don’t understand.” Real life, yes, but for me it would be better to select good representatives from reality and let us understand that the rest is like that without making us drudge through so much. Maybe I just don’t understand, just don’t understand, don’t understand.
I’ve been told that publishers really do not edit fiction anymore. Maybe so. Otherwise I wouldn’t expect to see “. . . she said simply,” so many times; maybe not at all. The first time I noticed that particular phrase, I thought maybe Kanon added “simply” to connote the dignity of a simple or ordinary person (the speaker was a Communist or sympathizer right after WWII). But he does the same “said simply” with other speakers too. Whoever said to avoid adverbial modifications when attributing speech to characters?
My complaints are mild, perhaps not worth the space they take. Alibi keeps you going on several levels as you try to follow its turns, cheer for the lovers, and keep hoping for something to cleanse the most attractive characters. Don’t get your hopes too high. It’s a good book that can keep you interested, but it will not elevate your mood.