Hernan Diaz, Trust ***

Like Diaz' first novel In the Distance, Trust uses the form and tropes of a traditional genre (in this case, the Gilded Age romance) in a way that simultaneously questions those tropes. The modernist trappings are more overt in Trust with its four unreliable narrators and overt concern about the slipperiness of the truth, and the result is less engaging.

The book consists of four parts: a bestselling novel about a 1920s tycoon and his wife; a draft of the autobiography of the real-life inspiration for the tycoon; a memoir from the tycoon's ghostwriter; and unpublished papers from the tycoon's wife. Each part complicates what we think we know from the previous parts.

My problems with Trust all flow from the initial novel-within-the-novel. It lacks the depth that would make it a believable bestseller, and it's not lurid enough to motivate the vindictiveness of the real-life tycoon. The wife dies in a Swiss sanatorium, but her character is presented sympathetically. Nor does the tycoon come off (to me at least) as evil or incompetent. In fact, I appreciated how the novel captured both characters' love of solitude and their strategies for protecting their privacy ("privacy requires a public facade").

The autobiographical section creates a compelling voice for the tycoon. He confidently states that his personal interests always aligned with the well-being of the country and that his success benefited everyone. On the other hand, it purposely paints an anodyne picture of his wife.

The third section cops to a problem that applies to the whole book:

My strokes were too broad and the stories lacked those little details... often used to bribe readers into believing that what they are reading is true.

This admission applies to the autobiography, which purports to be an early draft, but the most egregious example of missing detail comes from the novel-within-a-novel. As a symptom of the wife's mental illness, she engages in delusional monologues:

She could not stop talking because she could not stop trying to explain her illness––and her desire to understand her illness was, to a large extent, the illness itself. If [the doctor] listened and taught her to listen, they would find that her never-ending rant was full of ciphered instructions.

Sample dialogue please! 

The final section is a diary from the dying wife. Its revelations are unsurprising: People underestimated the woman. It answers some plot mysteries, but frankly I never cared about those mysteries.