Storytelling at its finest

Sometimes, it takes just one contemporary novel to make me realize again why I'm not a novelist, or a short story writer for that matter). My attempts at fiction are crap. Wait, let me rephrase that since I'm being way too kind on myself. If crap actually crapped something out, then that would be my writing. I know that I won't be able to write a novel as brilliant as William Heaney's novel, Memoirs of a Master Forger, which has become my favorite book this year.

William Heaney is actually the pseudonym of Graham Joyce, the acclaimed fantasy writer. In the novel, we meet the William Heaney, probably the most lovable flawed character in recent fiction. Heaney, together with his two closest friends, produce fake first edition Austen novels, sells them for staggeringly absurd amounts, and then donates his proceeds to charity. He also works for the government, being chair of an organization for youth affairs in the UK. But Heaney has his dark side -- he's a closet alcoholic, he can't let go of his past love, and he can see demons.

Joyce's demons are not your typical supernatural elements. They're spectral characters able to influence the people they hang around with by the power of their suggestions. But even though they don't figure much among the other characters in the novel, Joyce's description of the demons Heaney sees is just glorious.

There are thousands of them, and in multiple forms, living at our shoulders. Hosts of them, malign and benign, swarming or singleton, some fascinated by us, others disinterested. All utterly unseen except by the initiated. [p. 182]

I'd learned enough about demons by now to know they don't understand everything that is said; that their ability to understand is linked with their capacity to find a ride inside one of us; that once they get inside, then they can enjoy a psychic feed; that once they have fed, they leave a deposit behind them... [p. 263]

The real demons that Joyce focuses on, however, have to do with Heaney's inability to establish a healthy relationship with women. And this is where the novel can be treated as an unconventional love story. The narrative often goes back to the 1980s, a time when Heaney was in college and was in a loving relationship. This back story, which can stand as a novel on its own, provides an effective thread on Heaney's present insecurities and paranoia.

Joyce won the British Fantasy Award for Memoirs of a Master Forger. I believe that the award was well-deserved. The novel is uplifting. It celebrates living and loving in all its aspects. The way I see it, we can either choose to wallow among the demons around us or confront them and realize that these demons -- whether literal or metaphorical -- do not stand in the way of loving.

Read this book if:

1. It's been a long time since a novel made you cry, laugh, and love.
2. You actually feel "beings" around you every now and then.
3. You're craving for a beautifully written fantasy novel.