Death of an Ordinary Man: A Novel

A dead man pursues the secrets of his life and death in this “dense, subtle, substantive, perfectly shaped fiction” by the author of I, Lucifer (The Guardian, UK).Nathan Clark’s gravestone reads: At rest. But Nathan is not at rest, and knows he won’t be until he finds out why he died. How has he come to hover over his own funeral, a spectral spectator to the grief of his family and friends? Privy now to their innermost thoughts and feelings, Nathan spends the day of his wake getting to know the living as he has never known them before. But why isn’t Nathan’s young daughter Lois at the wake? Who are the two strangers at the funeral, and why does their presence fill him with dread? Nathan knows he has only so long to unlock these mysteries, because he is drawn time and again to a room in his house he never knew existed–a room that holds a terrifying secret. “Duncan's exhilarating, almost exhausting flood of insight into family patterns of love and habit is matched by the rich unexpectedness of his writing and the complex construction of the narrative.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review

From Publishers Weekly

Starred Review. It has often been said that dead men tell no tales. Nathan Clark, however, can't stop talking. In this latest brimstone-tinged novel by British writer Duncan (I, Lucifer, etc.), Clark, a recently deceased history teacher, appears at his own funeral, hovering over the mourners. Ghost-like, "a radical amputee... [n]o body, but a maddening imposture of sensation," he glides through the action, tuning into the thoughts of his father, Frank; his wife, Cheryl; his college-age son, Luke; and his daughter, 17-year-old Gina. A suffocating sadness surrounds these characters, not only because of Nathan's untimely end but also because of the recent violent death of Lois, Nathan's youngest child. As he attempts to order his memories, Nathan ponders the many facets of his love for prickly, ambitious Cheryl, despite her affair with his best friend; for clever, sensitive Gina; for self-contained Luke, a physics student; and for Lois, lovable swimmer and violinist. Duncan's exhilarating, almost exhausting flood of insight into family patterns of love and habit ("It was a grotesque lie, that you loved all your children equally") is matched by the rich unexpectedness of his writing and the complex construction of the narrative, which mimics the structure of thought. The mystery of Lois's death and the narrator's own death—symbolized by a dark room in the family house that Nathan's ghost is afraid to enter—give the novel a hint of suspense, but it's the steady stream of small revelations that gives it its power to haunt. Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist

*Starred Review* Duncan's cerebral fifth novel is narrated by a dead man with a cloudy memory, for he cannot even recall the circumstances of his own death. Instead, he functions like "a radical amputee. No body, but a maddening imposture of sensation." He is privy to the innermost thoughts of his grieving family: his complicated, now emotionally deadened wife; his troubled son; and his older daughter, newly awakened to her sexuality. He sometimes hovers above his family, and he is sometimes violently thrown into reliving key moments of his past by objects he encounters; he begins to remember the richness and vibrancy of his marriage and how it all disappeared after their youngest daughter was brutally murdered by a pedophile, a fact that is closely connected to his own death. Stories narrated by the dead have been popular of late (Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones; Neil Jordan's Shade),^B but Duncan uses the device in a new way: to explore the extremes of human behavior and emotion. His Catholic sensibility informs this powerful, unflinching, and frequently dazzling meditation on the kind of courage it takes to endure the unthinkable. Joanne WilkinsonCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

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