N is employed at a prestigious California university, where he has distinguished himself as an aloof and somewhat eccentric presence. His meticulous, ordered life is violently disrupted by the death of his estranged father—unanticipated and, as it increasingly seems to N, surrounded by murky circumstances. His investigation leads him to a hotel built over a former Spanish mission, a site with a dark power and secrets all its own. On campus, a chance meeting with a young doctor provokes uncomfortable feelings on the direction of his life, and N begins to have vivid, almost hallucinatory daydreams about the year he spent in Ottawa, and a shameful episode from his past.
Meanwhile, a shadowy group of fringe academics surfaces in relation to his father’s death. Their preoccupation with a grim chapter in California’s history runs like a surreal parallel to the staid world of academic life, where N’s relations with his colleagues grow more and more hostile. As he comes closer to the heart of the mystery, his ability to distinguish between delusion and reality begins to erode, and he is forced to confront disturbing truths about himself: his irrational antagonism toward a young female graduate student, certain libidinal impulses, and a capacity for violence. Is he the author of his own investigation? Or is he the unwitting puppet of a larger conspiracy?
With this inventive, devilish debut novel, saturated with unexpected wit and romanticism, Sara Davis probes the borders between reality and delusion, intimacy and solitude, revenge and justice. The Scapegoat exposes the surreal lingering behind the mundane, the forgotten history underfoot, and the insanity just around the corner.
The Scapegoat is a unique and upending reading experience. Every sentence on its own seems to exist nearly in the world of the rational, at least enough for me to keep reading with my guard down, and to keep thinking 'well, that's a little weird, but understandable...' and then before very long I realize that the story has steered me into completely unknown territory where anything can happen, and where I as a reader am sharing the paranoia and the distress of the protagonist. I've sunk into his way of looking at the world. I'm unable to see my way forward in the story or to predict what will happen next.
For a while even after I was done reading the novel, my world still looked a little odd to me, and a little threatening. The unease lingered. There is a level of particularity of detail in the language of the novel that mimics normal life and then subtly distorts it into something monstrous and chaotic and threatening...or maybe, it lets you see just how odd the world is to begin with. It's absolutely a one-of-a-kind reading experience.
And now I’m editing my review because I forgot at first to say there is a unique humor I enjoyed a lot for the way it weaves in and out in the same way as the paranoia...always catching me off guard. Like that the hospital puts on a free concert of Mahler’s “Kindertotenlieder.” These underemphasized ‘nothing to see here’ jokes come rollicking along without warning. I loved it.
Thanks to FSG for the opportunity to listen to the audiobook--the narrator was perfect for the character. I've bought the book since, because I want the opportunity to read it at my own pace and to learn more about just how this novel works. Wonderful.
ok, this fucked me up. i have been fucked the fuck up. i've never thought so hard about a book after finishing it. i, as i always do, read this right before going to bed and it plagued my dreams. over and over again i asked myself, what...really...happened...? where was the 'beginning'? who's investigation is this? who is being investigated? who is the real victim?? what...?? happened...???? i've never read a mystery story quite like this, and i've never had one affect me quite like this. i wish i could tell you a brief overview of the novel but frankly, i'm not even sure myself. davis's storytelling, or the story's "siuzhet" (shoutout to my russian lit class), is absolutely phenomenal and engaging, cyclical and hazy, and very very meta.
from the beginning, we understand that the narrator is not the most reliable, but as the story progresses, we are pulled more and more into the instability and unreliablity of the narrator. we are sucked into his reality that may or may not be reality, and his dreams that may or may not be dreams. by the end, we are not sure at all what really happened, what was delusion, who did what to who and when. so delightfully confusing. there are meta storylines WITHIN the meta storyline itself, with the subplot of N's mystery novel, and the academics set on exposing california's destructive and exploitative history. there is a perfect amount of dread and unease, the perfect amount of gloom in the sunny san franscico setting. this story really reminded me of Dance Dance Dance by murakami, with the passive and slightly unreliable narrator, the haunted hotels, the jumbling of dreams and reality, the underlying atmosphere of trepidation and disquiet. except the narrator in the scapegoat is far less reliable and far more dangerous, and creates far more unease in the readers. murakami on lsd.
i would like to request from the author a linear timeline of the events as they happened in present time because. because this shit got me fucked up. i will be thinking about this book for a long time.
N is employed by a California university. He is investigating his father’s death. We do not know, and do not learn from this book: whether either of those statements is true, N’s name, his job, how is father died, why N feels the death needs investigation, whether anything N says is true, whether there are 1, 2 or 3 women in this book and what may or may not have happened to any of them. The list goes on. I assume this sort of obfuscation in a book is intended to be modern and clever, but I just found it annoying. I was really glad that this book is short. I doubt that I would read anything else by this author. I received a free copy of this audiobook from the publisher. 2.5 stars
Making notes about this book while midway through, I wrote, ‘I have realised that I love books where the world of the story feels small and cosy’. But by the end, the sense that the protagonist’s world could be described thus has been turned upside down and inside out. It starts as a middle-aged man’s investigation into the circumstances of his father’s death, during which it becomes clear that he (the narrator) divines meaning from random incidents, ‘messages’ and dreams. This early indicator of oddness blossoms into an increasingly peculiar narrative, an excavation of memories that reminded me of Hugo Wilcken’s novels, Laura van den Berg’s The Third Hotel, and also a bit of Mulholland Drive. Dryly funny, unexpectedly touching, ephemeral in a way I enjoyed.
In the Bay Area of sunny San Francisco, what starts as an investigation into the death of the narrator's father soon turns into a fever dream that rings with surrealism, hilarity, and mystifying sequences. Losing his father to suspicious circumstances has compelled N, a university employee, to carry out an independent exploration of what happened.
By discovering a briefcase and revisiting conversations, this unreliable narrator meshes reality with haziness and the line between reality and trance blurs. Impossible to sum up without potential spoilers, this literary fiction fairs well through the passive, disinterested voice and the anti-social persona that is the sole source of viewpoint for readers. Certainly an absolute hit or miss, Scapegoat is a psychologically driven mystery that atmospherically plays out scenes completely dependant on eccentricity, disingenuity, and non-linearity.
Another one from the eARC backlog. N is investigating his father's death but then there is a mysterious hotel with invisible protesters, body characteristics that seem to jump between people in his life, not recognizing people until they explain why he should, unexpected...dinner parties? ...really I couldn't make any sense of it by the end. Am I supposed to figure something out? Have you read this? Lots of foreboding feelings but little resolution.
Luckily in May the Newest Literary Fiction group will be reading and discussing this so maybe I'll change my tune.
This came out March 2, and I have a copy from the publisher through NetGalley.
The Scapegoat is an intriguing, dreamlike mystery. The narrator is clearly unreliable and you can’t trust anything he says. It’s up to you to put the pieces together to figure out what’s really happening. And what a surreal journey it is.
The narrator is rather pathetic but that could be due to childhood neglect. He is a rather passive character, yet he is also lonely and I would argue, unhappy. I did love the scenes of him reading his Scandinavian mystery though. Very funny.
Overall, I highly recommend this trippy, illusive mystery. This is one book you need to pay attention to when reading. Sara Davis is a fantastic writer and I really enjoyed her debut.
This is the kind of surreal, insane, paranoid thing I absolutely needed to read last night. It’s going to be my last book of the year, and while I don’t need to do the whole “this is so appropriate, so representative of our crazy times, etc. etc.” spiel, it was a wonderfully unsettling, grim, off-center, distorted ride that did absolutely nothing to ease my anxiety and gloom. Marvelous. Adieu, 2021.
Behind the curtain stands the unreliable narrator. He peers out, mockingly. Smiling, knowing he's had the last laugh. Dad is dead, you say? Hasn't he always been dead to me? Mother, oh mother. I see you everywhere. My memories, faded and clear. The path between events that may seem unrelated will soon become clear... Repression. I stare at the mirror and the repressed stares back at me. I'm thinking of ending things...
I was drawn to The Scapegoat because it was described as surreal and hallucinatory. Supposedly it blends fantasy and reality in such a way that makes it difficult to distinguish between the two. Count me in! Despite the lukewarm reviews, I was convinced that this book would be a good fit for me. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
Sara Davis is no doubt a gifted author. Her prose is a joy to read and has echoes of Hemingway. The plot however, was highly convoluted and frankly, I’m not sure what the intention was. I’m struggling to find the meaning in all of it. It was like a very elaborate and intriguing door to nowhere.
I never considered The Scapegoat to be overly cerebral, but maybe it went over my head? Luckily, it is a quick read, so you might want to give it a try and see for yourself. I wasn’t the right reader for this book, but I can honestly say that Davis is very talented and I’m curious to see what she comes up with in the future.
I’m not sure what to make of this one! The Scapegoat by Sara Davis is a fast-paced, short, surreal mystery with an unreliable narrator. It is compulsively readable with short chapters, so I got through this one quickly. The narrator is investigating his father’s death, which keeps leading him to a strange hotel with a dark history and the University hospital where he works and his father previously worked. The narrator keeps finding clues which propel him back to the mysterious hotel again and again. Things keep changing and the narrator loses time, so it’s hard to know what’s really going on. It reminded me a little of The Night Film by Marisha Pessl. The story was very unsettling and strange, but very interesting.
Thank you Farrar, Straus, and Giroux and NetGalley for providing this ARC.
This book is not for everyone. It was not for me. It did start out good and there is no flaw in writing, except it plays with reality and dreams. I kept getting confused and nothing was much clear. Maybe it was supposed to be like that. I didn't like it much but still I read it completely.
The book is narrated by “N,” a “secretary” at a Northern California medical school who is conducting his own investigation into his father’s passing. Through his actions and inner monologue, the reader can deduce that N is often confused about his father’s death, loses track of time, and enters into dream-like states where he then meshes the people and conversations from the dreams with reality. He is a bit of a loaner with an anti-social personality, so the reader doesn’t glimpse any “outside looking in” perspectives -- the story seems to be entirely N’s point of view.
At points, N appears to collect credible clues that take him to a hotel his father visited. He discovers his father’s briefcase and alternate identity -- with this, I believe he was gaining momentum toward closure surrounding his father’s death or disappearance; apparently, I missed something because I closed the book just as confused as N - I didn’t get any closure. I replayed multiple sections of the book to gain a better understanding of what was going on. I double-checked my notes on the clues and N’s thought processes; however, at about two-thirds in, I gave up and just finished the novel as a frustrated reader.
At this point, I’ll have to research to find *spoiler* reviews and/or wait until my reading group discusses it in hopes of getting some insight as to what really happened and make sense of some of the scenes and interactions N has with either real or imagined characters.
As mentioned, this was an audiobook; I’m not sure if this form factor affected my ability to comprehend this style of storytelling, but at this point, I don’t think I want to devote any more time to properly “read” it.
11th book finished in 2021 is The Scapegoat by Sara Davis. Read most of it in two long sittings. It has a Lynchian weirdness and feel of levels of reality mixing. Effortless, speedy prose. Highly recommend if you like an eerie, metaphysical detective story.
A very odd, rather upsetting read - do I mean unsettling? That, too. Meticulously crafted, an increasingly hard scratch at the brain of the reader. I wanted to stop and knew that I should not; all that would happen would be that I'd be stuck obsessing over what I didn't read, instead of obsessing over what I had. I became confused, went back, stopped, picked up again to see what N. - the otherwise unnamed narrator - had discovered about his father, his past, in my absence; a slip of the mind in this case often felt like a slip of the knife.
What a strange little gem this debut mystery is! “The Scapegoat”, by Sara Davis, intrigued me from the beginning; it becomes almost immediately clear that the reader needs to “just go with it”, as with an episode of “Black Mirror” or “Twilight Zone”; don’t expect a straightforward mystery.
The first person narrator, only once referred to as “N”, is recounting the details of an investigation into his father’s death which he conducted in the recent past. We are not told why. Soon we realize that the narrator is unreliable; impossible coincidences pile up, weird things happen (or do they?) and we start to doubt our own reliability as readers, as well. Again: just go with it.
The novel is set in the San Francisco Bay Area, and this unique narrator is employed at a university there. He is a curmudgeonly loaner and both a devote and critic of the Swedish detective series featuring Kurt Wallander (it gets a little “meta” here). An Old Mission Hotel features as almost another character, and inexplicable things happen there.
Through his mostly dispassionate perceptions and meticulous recollection, we begin to learn more about who he is, who his father was, and the nature of their relationship. This spare, psychological/surreal mystery is deliciously atmospheric; I couldn’t help thinking of Hitchcock’s masterpiece, “Vertigo”.
Davis un-spools the story quickly, which also keeps the reader engaged if a bit pleasantly confused, dare I say “vertiginous”? But throughout I was willing to accept uncertainty to see what would happen next!
This story is no doubt meant to be mind bending and mesmeric, but in the end it’s mostly just irritating. This isn’t a breed of unreliable narrator that I enjoy because it feels misleading and unsatisfying in the end.
The plot and pacing intrigues at first. It’s only at the end when you realize what happened that you feel, quite frankly, kind of ripped off by the experience.
There are no likable characters or charming details to win back a few points for the experience.
I can’t imagine how calling this a literary mystery was justified. It sets up as a mystery, but ultimately it’s a cheap, bait-and-switch thriller, and while the writing is excellent in some ways (atmosphere, tone), that’s not especially rewarding when the entire reader experience feels utterly pointless and the plot feels gimmicky.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
(reread 11/26/22): now that i’ve read this book in a more agreeable setting than in a moving car on the way back from a funeral, i like it a bit more. the writing style is so charming to me, because it’s like exactly how i write, that it feels like this book was made for me to crawl inside. so strange so perplexing and i love it <3
initial review: i have to give this book credit for allowing me to conquer my carsickness and read it over the course of a 6 hour drive. and if you know my literary tastes you know i love books about unreliable nebulously homosexual academics. i also have to keep it real with you that this is one of the strangest and most perplexing books i have ever read. i felt that it was somehow being misrepresented by the blurb on the back, although there are no distinguishable inaccuracies. the amount of information that is withheld from the reader is staggering, and i find myself still wondering at what parts were true. it felt rather lynchian, if that helps you get an idea of the vibe. i cannot accurately rate my reading experience, since i spent the latter half somewhat nauseous due to the aforementioned reading in a moving car (on our way back from a funeral, morale was low). but it was damn compelling, and messes with the mystery genre in a way that i found interesting. a confused 4 stars?
I honestly have no idea what I just read! Nothing, not a titter!
I can make some assumptions:-
I assume that the protagonist is suffering from a delusional disorder and has possibly attempted suicide at some point?
I assume that he works in a secretarial job that his father procured for him during his period of instability?
I assume the protagonist thinks his father is dead when maybe his father has just moved away with a new family?
I assume that the protagonist may have killed someone thinking that the person was his mother whom he may have had an unhealthy relationship with?
I assume the protagonist may have been gay?
I assume he was suffering from sort of persecution complex?
The fact that these are all assumptions are really annoying!! I learned nothing from this story other than Sara Davis has a hard time writing a male character. Everything in these pages is wishy-washy, implied, surreal and unusual and not in a good way. I'm really disappointed at the vagueness of this story. I'm just glad it was short and I was able to read most if it in a nice bubble bath today! Not recommended and I wouldn't return to it at all!
‘The Scapegoat’ is one of the most generous literary novels I’ve read in years. This maybe Davis’s first novel but her words have a self-assurance and thoughtfulness towards the reader that’s increasingly rare. The novel is centred around N, a university employee investigating the murky circumstances of his father’s death. It becomes clear very quickly that N’s world is a spooky one and that this spookiness isn’t entirely related to his father’s death. There’s shame in N’s past but only some of the shame is his doing. What I loved about this book is how willing I was to follow the banalities of N’s life. Evil may be banal but banal can still be interesting in the right hands. If you’ve been looking for the ‘serene and anonymous’ voice that James Merrill spoke of, you can stop. It’s here, in N’s slow unraveling and in the surreality of the world that Davis creates. It’s both in the precision and in the lack of flamboyance of her words. This is someone worth reading again and again. And again.
I loved reading The Scapegoat! The kind of book you can’t put down, stay up late late reading, and wish it wasn’t over when you’re done. Highly recommended! I might actually reread it to trace some of the clues throughout the narrative.
Told from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, this story keeps the pages turning as the author throws a ton of balls in the air. The problem is that precisely none of the balls are caught at the end. The reader is left wondering what the hell happened.