redshift

I write in the year 1901.

My name, my real name, is Alfred Borden. The story of my life is the story of the secrets by which I have lived my life. They are described in this narrative for the first and last time; this is the only copy.

The Prestige deals with the rivalry of two stage magicians/illusionists, Rupert Angier and Alfred Borden, in the later years of the nineteenth and early years of the twentieth centuries, and the enduring effect of that rivalry on their families through the generations. It was adapted into a film in 2006, which I saw at the time, so I didn’t come to the book entirely fresh. I enjoyed the film greatly, but I very much wonder what I would have made of the book had I read it without foreknowledge of elements of the story. The book, though, is substantially different to the film; even more so than I expected as far as half way through the book. There were a fair few surprises; events that unfolded differently, characters that I perceived in an entirely different light, and so on. I’m unable to avoid writing this partly as a comparison between book and film, rather than just as review of the book on its own merits; I’m sure plenty of more comprehensive reviews of just the book can be found all over the internet. Apologies, anyway.

The book is very strangely told, combining journals of the two main characters with stories and experiences of their great grandchildren. In the earlier parts of the book the important events feel as though they’re being recounted from a great distance, and I found it somewhat disconcerting — I’m still somewhat in two minds as to what I think about some parts of the narrative. On the other hand, once I got really absorbed in the book and realised the central mysteries weren’t actually the most important part of the story (unlike the film, where they are more the emphasis), I began to enjoy it a lot more and with far fewer qualifications. It’s something of a melodrama, but enjoyably so on the whole, and the combination of illusion and genuine weirdness is intriguing.

Worth reading, but I’m not as enamored with it as some, I suspect. I am, however, finding myself very much wanting to read more of Christopher Priest’s books — ones I know less about in advance!