The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
This is what I do, I sometimes find myself in the vicinity of a bookstore, so I go in, wander about use my phone to take pictures of intriguing titles, go home, enter them into Goodreads, and when I don’t know what to read next, download the samples onto my e-reader. That’s how I came across Domino Men, but then it wasn’t available in an e-version. Then I discovered it is the sequel to The Somnambulist, which was also on my to-read list, and also not available in an e-version. When I happened upon a used copy of The Somnambulist, I snatched it right up.
So much work for so little reward. I didn’t enjoy this book much. I did at first—I liked the language of it, liked the mystery and the intrigue. But once again I was let down by not knowing, ahead of time, that I was reading fantasy. I assumed everything would be explained, and of course it wasn’t. I like genre fiction as much as anyone, but The Somnambulist was only even “fantasy” in the sense that there were a few non-real conveniences that allowed the “story” to work.
What story there was. Read other people’s reviews, you’ll see the same complaint: it just started going downhill around the halfway point or so. Some have suggested that The Somnambulist is a “steampunk” novel, but, again, only in the sense that a convenience was tossed in and that convenience was made with a bit of brass. Genre fiction has its tropes, and I suppose we might allow for a lack of everything else if the tropes are good enough. But there weren’t even enough tropes.
Here’s a big spoiler: at no point is there any indication of what the title of the novel has to do with anything. Yes, there’s a character called “The Somnambulist,” but unless I’m supposed to understand that the author was sleepwalking his way through this novel, I just don’t get it.
And I am now going to strike Domino Men off my to-read list.