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The Passenger
"And now, in my expiring embers - as I dwindle and flicker, and the cancer spreads - I seem to know myself truly at last. Now, at death's door, and with all in the rear-view, wisdom is so very easy to come across. And amidst a host of other revelations, one is written in bold italics. For when a life is confined entirely to memory, and no more can be made, then he who has lived shall become one with his recollections. They shall accompany him to the grave, for memory is the only evidence of life.
A life is but the creation of memories."
Robin Fitzwarwick grows up an orphan in wartime London. He becomes a young rising star, and an even younger has-been. He fails in Hollywood, falls unlucky in love, comes to know loss, and grief, and alcoholism in tow. He teaches at a third-rate university, marries the wrong woman, abandons his son, and eventually dies alone.
And yet, underneath a seemingly tragic tale, is one of acute sensitivity, and romantic idealism. Robin's life is defined by intimate bonds with friends and lovers, a profound love of beauty and the arts, and an extraordinary gift for words.
On his death-bed, Robin writes the story of his life.
In the debut novel by British newcomer S.D. Wickett, Robin Fitzwarwick grapples with questions of fate, free will, and consequences, all building up to a drastic decision to take his life into his own hands.
A life is but the creation of memories."
Robin Fitzwarwick grows up an orphan in wartime London. He becomes a young rising star, and an even younger has-been. He fails in Hollywood, falls unlucky in love, comes to know loss, and grief, and alcoholism in tow. He teaches at a third-rate university, marries the wrong woman, abandons his son, and eventually dies alone.
And yet, underneath a seemingly tragic tale, is one of acute sensitivity, and romantic idealism. Robin's life is defined by intimate bonds with friends and lovers, a profound love of beauty and the arts, and an extraordinary gift for words.
On his death-bed, Robin writes the story of his life.
In the debut novel by British newcomer S.D. Wickett, Robin Fitzwarwick grapples with questions of fate, free will, and consequences, all building up to a drastic decision to take his life into his own hands.
497 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
March 3, 2025
A lyrically written postwar memoir, and debut novel of S. D. Wickett, The Passenger follows the life of orphan Robin Fitzwarick, in retrospect and told by Fitzwarick at the end of his life. Beginning with his attendance at “Camford” University, the book follows his life through adventure, misadventure, and tragedy, to the, when all is being told, near end of his life. The narrator’s deepening relationships with his college friends and his career as a writer, as well as his often doomed romantic endeavors, provide the many choices Fitzwarick must make (or decline to make—itself a choice, as he learns), often suffering the consequences.
The Passenger was a great read, primarily because of the quality of narration. I found Wickett’s turn of phrase excellent from beginning to end—no small feat with a book that acknowledges its length in the Foreward. Furthermore, whereas my first impulse is to be skeptical when an author says, “No word can be cut” (having thought that, myself, about my own work before finding more to jettison), I found very little in The Passenger that was superfluous. For the most part, the narration and reflection, on the older Fitzwarick’s part, all contributed to the building of character, plot, or theme. As with any good story, the latter two come out of a solid articulation of the first, and we follow the stories of college pals Robin, Richard, and Francis through a growing life plot that reminds me at once of Brideshead Revisited for its reflection and elegaic tone and of The Stranger for its, at times, ambivalent (though not uncaring) protagonist.
On that point I will offer a warning (though not a criticism) to underscore allusions on the book back to things that might provoke it for others: a consistent part of my experience with The Passenger involved a desire to choke out the narrator, or at least his depicted younger self. Of course, the memoir being, itself, an apology (in both sorrowful and explanatory senses) for his actions, this is a feature, not a bug, and the other characters are by no means neutral in their participation in and response to Robin’s choices. Furthermore, despite my having made several different choices by the end, seeing the different characters’ various entrances and exits and their arcs completed was satisfying—even when sorrowful (which, also to the book’s credit, rarely reaches melodrama unless it’s exactly what the respective character would do). Needless to say, I became very invested in the characters, an investment that continued through to the end.
I often go into debut novels expecting to extend grace to deficiencies or excesses, to say nothing of mistakes (speaking thankfully as one whose own debut no doubt requires much of it from others), but I found this to be a refreshingly rare experience with The Passenger. Wickett’s turn of phrase, development, foreshadowing, and consistency of theme caused the book’s near 500 pages to flow faster than those of many less hefty books. Furthermore, it takes a talented writer to write a believably talented writer, and Fitzwarick’s narration (in both its quality and in the apparent and, because of Wickett’s execution, believable ease with which he, himself, could write) left me feeling both envious and encouraged as a writer, myself.
The Passenger was a great read, primarily because of the quality of narration. I found Wickett’s turn of phrase excellent from beginning to end—no small feat with a book that acknowledges its length in the Foreward. Furthermore, whereas my first impulse is to be skeptical when an author says, “No word can be cut” (having thought that, myself, about my own work before finding more to jettison), I found very little in The Passenger that was superfluous. For the most part, the narration and reflection, on the older Fitzwarick’s part, all contributed to the building of character, plot, or theme. As with any good story, the latter two come out of a solid articulation of the first, and we follow the stories of college pals Robin, Richard, and Francis through a growing life plot that reminds me at once of Brideshead Revisited for its reflection and elegaic tone and of The Stranger for its, at times, ambivalent (though not uncaring) protagonist.
On that point I will offer a warning (though not a criticism) to underscore allusions on the book back to things that might provoke it for others: a consistent part of my experience with The Passenger involved a desire to choke out the narrator, or at least his depicted younger self. Of course, the memoir being, itself, an apology (in both sorrowful and explanatory senses) for his actions, this is a feature, not a bug, and the other characters are by no means neutral in their participation in and response to Robin’s choices. Furthermore, despite my having made several different choices by the end, seeing the different characters’ various entrances and exits and their arcs completed was satisfying—even when sorrowful (which, also to the book’s credit, rarely reaches melodrama unless it’s exactly what the respective character would do). Needless to say, I became very invested in the characters, an investment that continued through to the end.
I often go into debut novels expecting to extend grace to deficiencies or excesses, to say nothing of mistakes (speaking thankfully as one whose own debut no doubt requires much of it from others), but I found this to be a refreshingly rare experience with The Passenger. Wickett’s turn of phrase, development, foreshadowing, and consistency of theme caused the book’s near 500 pages to flow faster than those of many less hefty books. Furthermore, it takes a talented writer to write a believably talented writer, and Fitzwarick’s narration (in both its quality and in the apparent and, because of Wickett’s execution, believable ease with which he, himself, could write) left me feeling both envious and encouraged as a writer, myself.
March 25, 2025
The Passenger is not only a very fine debut novel by a very promising young author, it is also a love letter to an entire vanished era. While most contemporary writers of a disgruntled conservative streak seem transfixed by themes of youth, vitality, and vigour, S.D. Wickett decides to tell a story of the life of Robin Fitzwarwick, an English dreamer and novelist who ever since his childhood in the 1930s is described as a “little old man.” Though we grow up with Robin and follow his life through his autobiographical narration, the book is framed through him as an old man dying of cancer, wanting to tell his story before he passes.
A race to tell a story of 20th century British romance before succumbing to death by cancer analogies the mission of the book’s author. S.D. Wickett, though a man not yet thirty, is in many respects a “little old man” himself. It does not take long to feel the weight of the author’s love for the Britain of the 20th century, with the idylls of university at Camford (the novel’s stand in for Oxford), the adventures of troubadouring around London, and summers in a tranquil Devon country house. Despite these sunny depictions of postwar joys we as 21st century readers know what lays over the horizon. Robin Fitzwarwick’s days become duller, less successful, as he’s replaced in the art world by the heirs of Duchamp, his friends die or fade away, he’s spurned by a Hollywood where the all-too-known rot is first starting to set in, and he returns periodically to a London growing uglier by the years. Robin Fitzwarwick lives in an England with the good days long past, the best parties long over. How melancholic it is for a contemporary reader to look back on the gloom of the English 80s, when many of us would do anything just to get back to the mid 90s.
To say S.D. Wickett has an old-soul would be an understatement; but to say Wickett is stuck in the past would be a fallacy. The self-proclaimed “British Restorationist” seeks to do just that. His debut novel The Passenger is a captivating journey of British grandeur, decline, and eulogy. He seeks out those “little old men” who too feel that the party has long been over. But it does not want to be contented with the wine-stained streamers and the crumpled guest list. Robin Fitzwarwick lived a remarkable life. He dreams, he achieves, he loses everything, but in the final embers of his life he makes something of them. He writes about a life well-lived, a life that’s destroyed, and for a long time ridiculed and mocked, a life that so strongly mirrors that of England’s. Any sensitive young romantic of patriotic sentiment will find sympathy with the life of Robin and his analogy to the life of 20th century Britain. But this book is not Ozymandias, there’s nothing fruitless about Wickett’s enterprise. This book is an inspiration for those who know, and a warning to those who don’t. We know the score. We know what has happened to our country. And the way to rekindle the fire of this one greatest of all countries is not to worship the ashes, but preserve the fire in its embers. Let this book be your embers.
A race to tell a story of 20th century British romance before succumbing to death by cancer analogies the mission of the book’s author. S.D. Wickett, though a man not yet thirty, is in many respects a “little old man” himself. It does not take long to feel the weight of the author’s love for the Britain of the 20th century, with the idylls of university at Camford (the novel’s stand in for Oxford), the adventures of troubadouring around London, and summers in a tranquil Devon country house. Despite these sunny depictions of postwar joys we as 21st century readers know what lays over the horizon. Robin Fitzwarwick’s days become duller, less successful, as he’s replaced in the art world by the heirs of Duchamp, his friends die or fade away, he’s spurned by a Hollywood where the all-too-known rot is first starting to set in, and he returns periodically to a London growing uglier by the years. Robin Fitzwarwick lives in an England with the good days long past, the best parties long over. How melancholic it is for a contemporary reader to look back on the gloom of the English 80s, when many of us would do anything just to get back to the mid 90s.
To say S.D. Wickett has an old-soul would be an understatement; but to say Wickett is stuck in the past would be a fallacy. The self-proclaimed “British Restorationist” seeks to do just that. His debut novel The Passenger is a captivating journey of British grandeur, decline, and eulogy. He seeks out those “little old men” who too feel that the party has long been over. But it does not want to be contented with the wine-stained streamers and the crumpled guest list. Robin Fitzwarwick lived a remarkable life. He dreams, he achieves, he loses everything, but in the final embers of his life he makes something of them. He writes about a life well-lived, a life that’s destroyed, and for a long time ridiculed and mocked, a life that so strongly mirrors that of England’s. Any sensitive young romantic of patriotic sentiment will find sympathy with the life of Robin and his analogy to the life of 20th century Britain. But this book is not Ozymandias, there’s nothing fruitless about Wickett’s enterprise. This book is an inspiration for those who know, and a warning to those who don’t. We know the score. We know what has happened to our country. And the way to rekindle the fire of this one greatest of all countries is not to worship the ashes, but preserve the fire in its embers. Let this book be your embers.
August 22, 2025
This is an absolutely brilliant novel. I enjoyed every chapter, every character (despite their flaws) and every stage of the journey.
Despite being an ambitious story set in a changing cultural landscape, this book is an easy read. The pages flow by effortlessly. The dialogue is credible, enjoyable and tight. Every now and there's a sharp or brutal comment, that hits the reader unexpectedly. There are lots of great quotes. (I will take note of them when I reread the book). I didn't find any superfluous passages. There were however some typos though towards the end.
It's set mainly in post-WW2 England, with a touch of Brideshead vibes in the first part of the book. As the story moves on, and the characters grow older, the characters encounter the inevitable change in culture and attitudes of post-WW2 England. This is handled credibly. The main theme is however the protagonist handling of expectations and challenges in life, interactions with friends and lovers, as well as mortality.
Despite being an ambitious story set in a changing cultural landscape, this book is an easy read. The pages flow by effortlessly. The dialogue is credible, enjoyable and tight. Every now and there's a sharp or brutal comment, that hits the reader unexpectedly. There are lots of great quotes. (I will take note of them when I reread the book). I didn't find any superfluous passages. There were however some typos though towards the end.
It's set mainly in post-WW2 England, with a touch of Brideshead vibes in the first part of the book. As the story moves on, and the characters grow older, the characters encounter the inevitable change in culture and attitudes of post-WW2 England. This is handled credibly. The main theme is however the protagonist handling of expectations and challenges in life, interactions with friends and lovers, as well as mortality.
October 8, 2024
I didn’t realise that I needed to read this book but it gave me everything I didn’t know I need. Read this. Trust me.
December 22, 2025
Brilliant debut novel. Life, loss and the pursuit of purpose.
September 5, 2025
A novel to affirm one's life. A deeply sad, melancholic yet beautiful, tragic tale of a profoundly flawed and unfortunate man, spanning the entire epoch of his life with such care given to noting the passage of time and changing of the era, and not for the better. It made me nostalgic, regretful, reflect upon my own life so far... it really touched me. By the end it will have you weeping.
Learn from the protagonist's mistakes - for your OWN good.
Learn from the protagonist's mistakes - for your OWN good.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews