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Set in and around London in the 1840s and ‘50s, The Meaning of Night features an extremely unreliable narrator. Is Edward’s desire for revenge justified? Or are his ramblings those of a crazy person? I was hooked on to Edward’s story, and indeed even rooted for him, despite the fact that he begins his story with the killing of a man. Written in the style of Charles Dickens or Wilkie Collins, the author’s style is never dragged down by old-fashioned conventions. Despite the fact that the book is 700 pages long, the plot never drags along. This novel reminded me a lot of Susannah Clarke’s Jonathan Clarke and Mr. Norrell, and Jed Rubenfeld’s The Interpretation of Murder.
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