This is a well-written, unusual book, comprised of the journal of Scribe, a divorced man whose son is ill in hospital. ‘28’ is a patient who Scribe befriends, and who he tries to understand via the first person (i.e. by writing as her).

The novel opens with the quote, ‘Fiction is a journey in search of truth.’ Generally, strong fiction pursues truth indirectly via the concrete and particular. This book seeks truth more directly via Scribe’s thoughts and his reported conversations with 28.

This privileging of the abstract over the concrete can make the characters seem like puppets designed to allow authorial meditations upon topics that don’t clearly relate to the story. It also means the novel avoids deep exploration of Scribe’s life situation. This seems a strange choice considering the volcanic tensions inherent in parenting a sick child within a toxic divorce.

This avoidance, and the journal’s ‘reportage’ mode, distances readers from the action, diminishes narrative tension and makes it unclear what is and isn’t real. This ambiguity might be intended – and, though it will intrigue some readers, it risks confusing others.

Scribe’s ex-wife is an irrational, ‘bellowing’ demon. In contrast, 28 is an intriguing, ever-feminine, always-physical (though potentially insane) angel. Notably, 28 is safely ‘contained’ both in the hospital and within Scribe’s textual usurping of her voice. Scribe and 28 are both portrayed as victims of monstrous women. If Scribe’s reliability was undermined throughout the novel, then great realism and drama could result from his stereotyping perceptions smashing into complex reality. However, this doesn’t happen, as there is little action and Scribe isn’t very self-aware or self-critical.

Despite these issues, 28 is an ambitious, formally experimental novel – and Lappas deserves full credit for this effortful and risky means of seeking truth.

Reviewed by H C Gildfind