This is my fourth Lawrence Osborne novel (I have previously read The Ballad of a Small Player, Hunters in the Dark and Beautiful Animals). I go into his books now with a sort of expectation: it seems that they often start of deceptively quietly, explode in the middle and then descend into darkness during the second half. The Glass Kingdom is no exception to this.
According to press reviews and interviews, Osborne has been referred to as both “the best novelist you have never heard of” and “the heir to Graham Greene”. As far as I can work out from interviews, that second comparison unsettles him a bit (he says “And sooner or later I’ll get punished for it. Someone will say, ‘Let’s compare this a****le to the real Graham Greene.’” (asterisks mine)).
When I read Hunters in the Dark, a phrase Osborne used about some dancers struck me as relevant to his writing. I referred to it again when I reviewed “Beautiful Animals”. My review of The Ballad of a Small Player has mysteriously disappeared. That phrase is "footsure and elegant and distant” and I’m going to use it again because it seems a good summary of Osborne’s style. He writes with confidence, he writes many elegant sentences, he writes in a way that maintains a kind of distance for the reader. This latter is not really a criticism: it almost seems to add to the atmosphere Osborne seems to be aiming to create which is normally fairly seedy, dark and a bit oppressive.
There’s a clue to his writing style in the fact that nearly all of his six novels are being turned into movies.
In The Glass Kingdom, Sarah arrives at The Kingdom, a four tower apartment building in Bangkok (this is a city Osborne knows well). She arrives with a bag of cash and the intention to hide away. As the story begins, she meets another resident, a woman called Mali, and begins a tentative friendship with her and two other women who meet for weekly drinking and card playing sessions.
Very slowly, the mystery begins to deepen. What’s with the dogs that appear? Who is the Japanese man who practices his golf swing? We gradually learn about the internal working of The Kingdom where everyone seems to be a shady character but where we can’t quite see what they are each up to. We do flit from one character’s perspective to another fairly frequently, we are not just reading from, say, Sarah’s viewpoint. But Osborne is careful about what each character’s thoughts reveal to us. Everyone is watching everyone else, everyone is reading things into other people’s glances or statements, always suspicious, always trying to see what is really going on.
In the background, there’s Bangkok. In fact, although most of the activity in the book takes place within The Kingdom, Bangkok manages to play a significant part in the story. Characters leave The Kingdom at various points and this gives Osborne the chance to describe the city outside to us, to give us a flavour of a city he knows well. And all is not well in this city. There is violence, the threat of insurgents. The residents of The Kingdom try to carry on as normal, try to ignore the city outside, but the increasingly frequent and lengthy power cuts bring the reality home and gradually The Kingdom empties until ”The outer world of insects, riots, and disorder was openly penetrating the inner world of elevators, generators, privacy, and locks.”
You will have to read the story to find out why Sarah was trying to hide away and what happens to her and her friendship with Mali. And maybe you will find out who the golfing Japanese man is. Maybe you will learn a bit about the somewhat mysterious caretaker of the building, Pop, or the owner, Mrs Lim, or several of the other shadowy characters.
This is another absorbing story from Osborne, another one that starts slowly but draws you in without ever becoming overly dramatic. The movies of his books will, I think, be slow-burners that work because of the psychological element more than the action. I think they could be very good.