In the mid-1960s, following the death of his two-year-old son and the collapse of his marriage, antiques expert Rupert Brigg is sent by his rich "uncle" (in fact his father) to a remote Greek island, Aspros, charged with finding some antiquities to add to the "uncle's" collection. Of course, the "uncle" intends this trip less as a business venture than as a means of healing -- an opportunity for Rupert to reforge himself after his disintegration, as it were. What Rupert finds, aside from satisfactorily faked antiquities, are sexual misadventures and a house full of squabbling, hard-drinking oddballs, some of whom become his new (and, we anticipate, lifelong) friends and with one of whom, the terminal ill Olivia, he falls in love and later, in the months before her death, marries. Thereafter, he sets up in rural Vermont an antiques business that fails when his dumped teenage mistress burns down the barn where he stores his stock; in a sense, that's a ritual cleansing by fire, enabling him finally to step away from the unfulfilling, grief-stoked, robotically hedonistic life he's been leading . . .
I'm not quite sure why I enjoyed this book as much as I did. With a plot that often seems aimless, full of incidents that, while curious and interesting, eventually lead nowhere, this reads more like a memoir than a novel. Yet it succeeded in absorbing me as much as any thriller. The writing's detached and deceptively plain, so that sometimes I found that I'd read a particularly perceptive or just delightfully witty flourish without at first recognizing it as such. Some of the events are dramatic, but (with the exception of a presumed murder that happens offstage and is never entirely solved, and is thus merely an incidental to the plot) they're drama of the kind you might expect from someone's account of a particularly outrageous vacation. Rupert, who narrates, is not a wholly admirable nor even an altogether likeable character . . .
Despite all this, I found myself reading late into the night, and came away from the book feeling as if I'd lived it rather than merely read it. I suspect the mood of this novel will remain in my memory long after I've forgotten its details.