Edward Glyver is hard done by. Phoebus Daunt, an old school
chum and now a famous if not especially talented poet, has deprived
Edward of everything that matters to him. Phoebus started in
school, framing Edward for theft and getting him thrown out, thus
thwarting his chance for a university education and ruining his
career as a scholar. Devastating as Phoebus's early crimes were,
they pale in comparison to Phoebus's adult mischief. Now Edward's
inheritance and future wife are at stake, and Phoebus will stop at
nothing to ruin Edward's prospects.

As the book opens, Edward has just murdered a total stranger, a
trial run for the inevitable moment when he will have to confront
his nemesis. It's a strange amoral gesture, the sort of thing that
makes it hard to root wholeheartedly for Edward, no matter what
Phoebus does to him. The spies he sets to watch the woman he loves,
the lies he tells to virtually everyone, his shifting multitude of
identities, the unsavory nature of his occupation, "unofficially"
managing client problems for a prestigious lawyer --- all of this
forces the reader to wonder if Edward is really very different from
his enemy. Is it Phoebus who has destroyed him, or Edward's
single-minded pursuit of revenge? What is the actual conflict, and
what is the paranoia of the opium addict?

Edward may be paranoid, but that doesn't mean no one is out to get
him. From his secret birth, always hidden from his powerful father,
to the spies that trace his every move and send him secret notes,
it seems impossible that he will triumph over Phoebus Daunt, a man
with every advantage (no matter how Phoebus managed to come by
them). As we see Phoebus mainly through Edward's eyes, it appears
as if Edward spends far more time thinking about Phoebus than
Phoebus spends thinking about Edward. If their conflict remained
only the result of a schoolboy prank turned mean, that would
certainly be true. But as Edward learns more about the mystery
concerning his own background, it becomes clear that Phoebus is
equally determined to destroy him for the secrets he keeps and the
unbelievable truth of his real identity.

THE MEANING OF NIGHT is long and complicated yet never tedious or
predictable. This in itself is a surprise. As the format is so
familiar, it's easy for readers to assume they know what will
happen next. But twists and turns abound as evidence emerges,
witnesses come forward and alliances develop.

Victorian England is presented with a wealth of meticulous
research. We know the address of every dining establishment, brief
histories of every writer and political figure, definitions of
every Latin phrase our frustrated scholar can't resist, and more
than we'll ever need to know concerning the Crimean War. For fans
of Charles Dickens or, more recently, Charles Palliser (THE
QUINCUNX), THE MEANING OF NIGHT is a rare treat.