Charlie Fairburn had it all - successful career, enough money to be comfortable, a daughter (well, that did not go that well but still) and an ex-wife (the ex being the part going well). Until it turns out that he is dying and has only 6 months to live.

So he decides to sell his house and gamble the money (in more than one way) while writing a novella (his first fiction - and his agent is not really happy about it). Add a woman who is paid to gamble with his money (to the tune of a million per day) and keep him company at night and the novel often can slip into a parody of the life of the rich and powerful. And yet, under that framework, there is a different story.

All of these excesses are Charlie's attempts to figure out what life and consciousness really are. And while he is struggling with that in his own life, it is the novella that he is writing that seems to be heading towards the answer. If you had the previous 4 novels by St. Aubyn (the first 3 Melrose ones and "On the Edgе"), the characters in that novella are eerily familiar - Patrick is almost obvious even without a last name but some of the "On the Edge" characters are even more recognizable. As this novel progresses, we get alternating chapters of the author's life and parts of the novella he writes where his characters are coming back to London from a conference on consciousness at Oxford - a story complete with a train getting stuck and a lot of debates about the conference and its topic.

Do you need to have read the previous novels to appreciate this one? I am not sure that it is required but they add color to the characters Charlie is writing about. The format of the novel allows these characters to show up again without being tied to their own books (although some elements of them are hinted at and others are recalled). If you chose to concentrate on this part of the novel, it is a meta novel. Add to that Patrick's character - after all he is St. Aubyn himself and you end up in a circular story where a writer (St. Aubyn) writes a book about a writer (Charlie) who writes a novella about Patrick (who is again St. Aubyn). Which ties to the topic of consciousness and the circle of life and what we all want from life.

The novel loses some of its steam towards the end - it is a short novel but it drags a bit in its closing chapters. Except for the very end of course - even if you saw it coming, even if you expected it to go there, it still works. Because that's life for you. ( )

Started well in dealing with dilemma of how to fill last six months of his life but morphed into indulgent rich idiots in France and went nowehere

Charlie, a successful screenwriter, has been given six months to live. He wants to do something useful with his time remaining. He will write a novel of and about consciousness. But first, to put himself in the proper artistic frame of mind and squalor, he’ll liquidate his assets and drop half of it onto the roulette table in Monte Carlo. Unfortunately, Charlie wins and it takes him longer than planned to purge himself of his fiscal solidity. But with the help of Angelique, a gambling fiend who demands that he give her 1 million francs per day in order for her to be his muse, he succeeds. He has somewhat less luck with his novel, which involves three characters on a train returning to London from a conference on consciousness at Oxford. Stiff with received opinions, his characters become as marooned in the fog of consciousness as their train is in the fog that halts them at Didcot Junction (ever the bane of the Oxford to London line). While Angelique gambles, Charlie sits in the Salle Privée writing furiously, and his characters on the train disport the various prominent positions on consciousness. But it’s not working and eventually Charlie needs other remedies including a failed “long swim” off a Mediterranean isle, and a sojourn alone on the Saharan dunes.

St. Aubyn’s concept for this novel of consciousness is audacious. That it fails is consistent with the ineffable nature (perhaps) of his subject. But that it entertains, that it delights, that it raises our emotional hackles is entirely down to St. Aubyn’s lyrical prose. His sentences are pure pleasure to read, often grounded in the rapturously real but never far from a metaphor or an extended simile. And very funny! More so, probably, for those who are au fait with debates on consciousness in philosophy and cognitive science. Of special note is Charlie’s New York agent, Arnie, whose brief appearances come with zingers attached. He’s priceless.

As with many comic novels, the subject matter here is serious in the extreme, bathetically so. Beyond the wit and maudlin excess lies an honest struggle with a topic that may tragically (or comically) be beyond our grasp. Well worth the challenge for a writer of St. Aubyn’s intelligence. Recommended. ( )

This isn't as excellent as his other books. I'm downrating him to a 3 because I know he's better than this. A more ordinary writer would get a 4. ( )

"Monet said he wanted to paint the air, a task not unlike writing about consciousness, the medium for seeing which can’t itself be seen. I have failed to paint the air or to write about consciousness, but it’s enough to know that there are states of mind and works of art which deliver this paradox: that the thing which is closest to us is the most mysterious." ( )