Mallin’s second novel is set in the crumbling mansion of a Norwegian aristocratic family in the 1920s, narrated by the unfortunate Knut—a sickly child despised and emasculated by his mother, who develops an infatuation for his sister. The style mimics the Victorian dramatics of vintage crumbling aristo novels (see Mauriac, Balzac, Zola), with light structural experimentation (the second and longest part consists of the ‘manuscript’ Knut is scribbling for his sister, and us). A claustrophobic and grotesque tone pervades—Knut’s family are typically waspish and poisonous aristo “eccentrics,” and his struggle for affection among servants and sister provides the kernel of the action—building to that incestuous torture promised in the first sentence of this review. In Mallin’s next novel, Erowina, he changes tack entirely, experimenting with various complex narrative modes, abandoning this “throwback” prose style for even more impressive feats of immense imagery and metaphorking. This novel is more emotionally engaging and devastating in a less painful manner than Dodecahedron—his harsh and violent debut—and opens up a warmer and more enriching dimension to Mallin’s otherwise quite airless, tormented, and bleak vision.