I tottered heavily at thee ‘three stars or four’ question as I began this review, which should make my opening sentiments a clear sign of general approval. For most of my way through Sean Chercover’s The Trinity Game, I had in fact considered it a 5-star novel and I was engrossed in every chapter; but a turn towards the end started to lower that mark, and though it still sits right on the edge, I’ve had to offer three stars rather than four at the end of the day.
The Trinity Game is a strong novel, and in many ways an excellent read. The writing is crafted carefully, well, and in a manner that keeps you addicted to the story, eager to turn over each page, without ever feeling that the suspense or pace are forced. This is good writing, good atmosphere, and good storytelling.
I was intrigued from the outset by the unique and unexpected mixture of themes at the heart of the book’s plot. Neither a ‘cut down the Catholics for all their mystery and reclusiveness’ fabrication, nor a standard jaunt into the realm of snake-oil salesmen and big tent preachers, The Trinity Game mixes together these generally separate themes in a story that, almost accidentally, asks questions about the structure of religion, faith, Church, cult and deception. The unlikelihood of a direct interaction between Vatican researches and American televangelists is dealt with in the story itself, and shows just how broad the sweep of faith and practice can run within a family.
This is a suspense thriller with a twist of conspiracy thrown in, and in this genre it works well. The structure of the book is well planned, and gradually draws the reader into various plots and sub-plots that eventually come together in a single, overarching storyline; and the characters are real, troubled, gripping and inviting. What particularly pleased me about the writing was the way that questions of faith and belief were treated by the different characters with their own biases and opinions, yet in a way that left the book, as a whole, treating of various ‘takes’ in equal measure. So many books in this category push an agenda on religion -- it is good, or bad; it is misleading, or outmoded; etc. -- but The Trinity Game leaves it to the reader to ask these questions, and allows the characters to speak to many perceptions.
All that being said, the extremely promising beginnings of The Trinity Game (and as I was reading, I was prepared to give it a 5-star rating up until this conclusion of Part 2) definitely takes a downhill turn towards the book’s end. Structurally, the introduction of a whole separate religious tradition at the end of Part 2 (I won’t say which, so as not to provide any spoilers), which had been entirely absent from the book to that point, felt like a plot development that hadn’t been developed: something that might have felt more integral had there been hints or foreshadowings of it earlier in the story -- but as it was, it fractured the story by inserting a tradition and questions that felt like they were from another book altogether. At the same time, while the Council and Foundation (mysterious entities of unknown power and moral standing) were introduced early in the book, they don’t receive any real treatment or development until Part 3, almost at its end -- and by this stage it is too late, and I couldn’t help but feel like they were being used to explain away elements of the story that, without them, would remain mystifying.
Finally, I found the relationship between the protagonist, a priest called Daniel, and the female lead, a reporter and childhood sweetheart called Julia, unsatisfying. It has long, long since become a trope in books that deal with Catholic priests, that somewhere in the story the temptations of the world (and of women) lead them to abandon their calling; and in a book that spends so much time (artfully) challenging preconceptions of faith, belief and personal conviction, I’d hoped for a challenge to this stereotype as well -- but to no avail.
Still, The Trinity Game is a good, compelling read. No one who buys it will regret they did, and the great merit of the first two-thirds still outweighs the flaws of the final. Chercover’s writing is thoroughly pleasant, and includes a handful of memorable turns of phrase (such as one character’s frustration over ‘Ten years [spent examining] rust-stains that look kinda-sorta-almost like Jesus if you squint your eyes just so and hold your head on an angle and harbor an intense desire to see Jesus in a rust-stain’; or the lament that ‘living in a perpetual state of denial was exhausting’; or a newspaper reporter’s chagrined sigh, that ‘television is a possum with a tapeworm . . . always hungry and it’ll feed on any garbage’). There are little gems like this throughout the book, and many memorable quotes for the highlighting.
A good read, then, with some flaws but with many strengths. I’ll be looking out for Chercover’s next work.