Published by Dutton on June 12, 2018
Julia Swann watches her kids and drinks chardonnay with her neighbors while her husband Michael looks for work. As Michael waits for a train to take him home to Julia, a self-proclaimed patriot starts a brush fire near some train tracks, delaying train arrivals and forcing a crowd to form at Penn Station. When the crowd swells, a bomb detonates.
Michael regains consciousness as rescue workers help him to the surface streets. In his dazed condition, he remembers little, including his name, but notes that he is carrying a briefcase. Michael repeatedly walks away from medical attention in the chaos that surrounds the station. He wanders the city, clutching his briefcase, unable to think of a destination or to recall anything about his past.
In the meantime, Julia is panicking. The emotionally resonant scenes that describe her reaction to the news of the bombing and her instinctive reaction to drive into the city and find her husband are particularly compelling. So is her struggle to be both honest and comforting as she talks to her son, two goals that seem incompatible under the circumstances.
Interludes tell the story of Michael and Julia: their first date, their engagement, Julia’s work before she became an insecure stay-at-home mom who misses working, Michael’s fears about his job.
I enjoyed reading The Real Michael Swann, but I’m not sure why. The premise is contrived (as are most stories that are based on amnesia). Much of the novel describes a police manhunt for Michael, the police having decided that Michael detonated the bomb. Julia, who believes in her husband, also searches for him, aided by news reports that tell her where to look. I’m not entirely certain that a mother would leave her kids behind at the worst moment in their lives to search for a husband who is being hunted by the police after apparently committing mass murder. The police are utterly self-righteous and behave deplorably, and while that’s credible enough, the specific tactics they adopt at the novel’s end are unconvincing.
The question that compels the reader to turn the pages is whether Michael is innocent or guilty. The answer, like the premise, is just too contrived to be convincing, although it scores points for being surprising. The last chapters, after the climax, I would have done without. The scenes are forced and too weepy for my taste. The epilogue drags and its preachiness detracts from a story that makes the same points without force-feeding them to the reader.
One of the things I like about The Real Michael Swann is the decency that people exhibit to each other in times of crisis. While talking heads on television are busy stirring anger despite having no facts that would allow them to assess blame, friends and strangers alike are making sincere efforts to help Michael and Julia cope with their individual crises. I like to think there are still people like that in the world, people who are driven by compassion rather than anger.
Another point in the novel’s favor is that it tells a love story while avoiding most of the trappings of a romance novel. Julie doesn’t swoon over Michael’s tousled hair. Michael isn’t Adonis. Julie’s love is deep and sincere, but love doesn’t conquer all.
Finally, Bryan Reardon’s fluid prose keeps the story moving at a steady pace. This is one of those “I wonder how this could possibly end” novels that can’t easily be set aside, but it's also one of those novels that, after reading the last word, makes me think, "Well, that couldn't happen."
RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS