If you were to describe the North London Literary Novel in its most parodic form it might look a little like this. The Parallel Lines are perhaps the two branches of the Northern Line, but more likely the branches of a family centring initially on Olivia, currently editing a Radio 4 series on likely apocalypses; and her husband Francis, working for an environmental NGO. Olivia’s best friend Lucy, recovering from a brain tumour, is in a relationship with tech billionaire Hunter, whose chief obsession is the land art of James Turrrell. I did say its set up was parodic.

Into all this carefully maintained Hampsteadness comes Sebastian, being re-integrated into the community after the latest in a psychotic episode. The central plot point is Sebastiain’s meeting with his ‘Bio Mum’ and the fact that Olivia adopted by Sebastian’s psychiatrist, is Sebastian’s biological sister.

Cue the falling apart of said Hampsteaness in a torrent of ethical dilemmas and family rows, all of which come to a head at an opening night of a new James Turrell exhibition. Still with me? Then this is a terrific read, and a sequel to the 2021 Double Blind. This I was unaware of, and I should say after a vertiginous opening where you are dumped into the world of Olivia, Sebastian and Lucy with very little to hold onto, this opens out into an entirely successful standalone read.

It’s central theme is the possibility - the probability even - of healing through therapeutic conversation, whether Sebastian’s sessions with Martin, Hunter’s communion with his private priest, or Olivia’s initial chats with the brother she never knew she had. Despite its setting, seemingly aloof, there’s a warmth and compassion at the heart of this novel that moves beyond its predominant tone of tremendously clever conversation. Shakespeare is clearly a touchstone for St Aubyn, and though there is no cross-dressing here for Olivia and Sebastian there’s a cast of characters driven by the need to express themselves through language.. to communicate everything they can right now.

Honestly I was quite excited by this book as it was the first book that a publishing company asked me to read as I had left a favourable review for another novel that was similar.
The synopsis sounded good, the first 10% of the book was good. Sebastian is a brilliant character and so well developed and wonderfully written, he made me laugh reading it.
Which made it surprising that the other characters were a bit bland, there wasn’t really any personality there, it was a bit more like one long droning on conversation amongst elitists that even the reader was outside of the group. I found it very difficult to engage with and unfortunately couldn’t finish the book.
The author is a talent writer that is undeniable and the book is thoroughly researched. However unfortunately it just wasn’t my cup of tea.
Thank you to the author and publisher for the ARC for my honest review.

NO SPOILERS:

The opening chapter of Edward St Aubyn’s Parallel Lines had me hooked and I loved all Sebastian’s chapters. His free thought, his wit, his word play – all are brilliant. However, for me, the other characters’ chapters did not match up, mostly because I had very little interest in them as people. Those chapters felt like conversations which excluded the reader, a platform for social comment which was dry and self-indulgent. But Sebastian was everything.

In all the words, in all the chapters though, this perfect, genius sentence stands out:

“…and she had a face like a court summons you’d scrunched up angrily and then fished out of the bin ands tried to flatten, but her eyes were as soft and blue as a summer afternoon.”

It’s not a book for me but I know many of you will love it. St Aubyn is a skilled writer and some time spent in his company is time well spent.

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House/Vintage for the Advanced Review Copy of the book, which I have voluntarily reviewed.

This book envelops societal commentary in a fictional home. It’s erudite and striking. I enjoyed following the self-conscious and self-reflective characters (therapists, artists, journalists, even a priest) and would certainly read a sequel.

Endless talking heads discussing various issues do not a novel make

I just have to conclude, given the literary praise St. Aubyn has been showered with, and the general appreciation of many of his readers, that his is a voice which just does not connect with this reader.

I tried, some years ago, when his first novel came out, to read that, attracted by the admiring reviews in the book review pages I look at, often by other whom I connect with, and whose books do speak to me. I tend to read mainly ‘literary fiction’ which was the genre St. Aubyn seems to be classified under

And seriously thought we were not reading the same book. Which I abandoned, some way through

This particular book sounded interesting, and again, it was being hugely praised by some wonderful writers of literary fiction.

Unfortunately, this book mainly seems to consist of a series of heavyweight talking heads, most of whose voices are (in my opinion) undifferentiated. They spout across supper tables and gatherings about theories of psychotherapy. Several of them are psychotherapists. There are also long explanations about the tie ups between colonialisation, empire and the climate crisis. Histories of voyages of discovery, including Darwin’s, the depredations in the South American rain forests, and so on and so on. Fine, informative, interesting. Or, at least I may have found all the theorising and analysis of issues and presenting of factual information interesting in non-fiction books on the issues.

But, in a novel, without character or voice differentiation, just endless telling? This was like being lectured at by a very dry academic, with a somewhat monotonous voice

The only voice and character I got engaged with, and actually got glimmers of appreciation for what the writer might be appreciated for, was Sebastian, the schizophrenic, who is one of the major players within such narrative as might be discerned. There were wonderful streams of consciousness, verbal games, rhythm, images, weavings in of random, surprising, witty, profound and playful connections. Sebastian’s voice was absolutely alive and present. But unfortunately, almost half way through the slog of the rest of it, waiting for characters to properly connect and engage and be in relationship with each other, for any sense of narrative and urgency to develop, and finding none, I gave up.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel. The characters are richly drawn, and the writing is sharp—at times funny, always thought-provoking. One line in particular stuck with me: “What can possibly be not thought-provoking?” It captures the spirit of the book well.

The plot itself is fairly straightforward, but the strength of the storytelling kept me fully engaged. Martin, a psychiatrist, is treating Sebastian, a strange and vulnerable young man whose view of the world is filtered through a mind that draws unusual and often startling connections.

Martin’s adopted daughter, Olivia, also plays a central role. Her relationship with her biological mother is fraught and difficult, and I found her to be a complex, sympathetic figure.

.The writing style can be dense, with long and complex sentences and an emphasis on ideas, but I found that intellectually satisfying rather than off-putting.


Many thanks to Jonathan Cape and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

As a fan of the P Melrose novels, I had really been looking forward to this. Sadly, it's not up to that (very high) standard - the storytelling is a little patchy, but it's still immensely readable with a lot of big ideas being explored. Go into it without the preconceptions I brought, and you will likely get a lot more from it.

I struggled with around 80% of this book, which felt a little like a showcase for all the interests of the author, which he wanted to write about and shoehorned into the narrative.

The story involves an extended family and friends group.

Sebastian is a schizophrenic who is being seen by Dr Martin Carr, who lives with his wife, Lizzie (also a psychologist) in London. Carr has 2 children - Charlie, biological son and Olivia, an adopted daughter. Olivia and Sebastian are twins but had not met until Olivia's birth mother arranges an ill-advised meeting at her home. The fallout from these relationships colour the end of the book.

The main part of the narrative is introducing those characters plus many others, whose names I cannot recall, who all seem to be in some form of crisis-either physical, mental or relationship-wise.

I got somewhat lost trying to remember who was married to who, what their problems were and where I'd met them first.

The part of the book that I really enjoyed was at the end when Sebastian and Olivia begin to forge a real relationship. I've no real idea what part a lot of the other characters played other than to pad out the narrative.

Not for me (except the last bit). But if you've enjoyed St Aubyn's other books you will probably enjoy this. The lives contained within it are certainly just as chaotic as Patrick Melrose's.

Thankyou to Netgalley and Random House for the advance review copy.

Edward St Aubyn returns with a follow-on to his 2021 novel Double Blind. I had not read that novel before reading this, and found Parallel Lines to be a great standalone novel in its own right. If you have read Double Blind you may get even more from it than I did. What did I get from Parallel Lines? Given it's from a writer of such stature as St Aubyn, you know immediately that the writing is going to be great - it is. The story is engaging, and I read it over in one sitting, totally engrossed by it's story.

Given it is a sequel, there is probably some duty on St Aubyn's part to give us updates on some of the characters from that first novel, so to me a few lines felt extraneous - but probably if read in sync with Double Blind it probably fits even tighter than I'm giving it credit for.

The best recommendation I can give is that it has made me go out and order Double Blind to finish the diptych in reverse.

Many thanks to the publishers and Netgalley for the ARC.

I absolutely loved this book. It follows on from, and we catch up with, the characters first introduced in Double Blind and you do need to read that book first to really get under the skin of what happens in this. Oh and before I forget, this book isn't the end for them either, or so it appears. I'm thinking probably trilogy rather than series, bit who knows how far the author will take them...
So, if you recall, at the end of the last book we had Sebastian meeting Olivia at a do where she is a guest and he a waiter. Unbeknown to them, they are related. To ice that cake, Olivia's adopted father Martin is Sebastian's psychotherapist.
This book picks them up 5 years later. Olivia is still with Francis who is still off on his rewilding escapades, and they are now parents to Noah. Sebastian has had a breakdown and is in hospital still under the care of Martin, and a nurse called Helio. Lucy is in treatment for her brain tumour, with boyfriend Hunter off seeking help for himself in an Italian Monastery, hosted by the abbott, Guido.
Although there is a lot going on with the supporting cast, the main focus is on Olivia and Sebastian and the two of them circling around each other. Whether they do meet properly, and how that impacts both of them, and their relationships with the other cast, especially with regards to medical ethics, I will have to leave for you to discover for yourself.
One of the things I love about this book, and its predecessor, is the way the author portrays Sebastian's fractured mind. His running commentary, his inward thoughts. All delivered in a wonderfully lyrical way and with such logic that actually had me rethinking quite a lot of my own thoughts and conceptions. I especially loved his interactions with certain other cast members, spoilers prevent me from going into detail though.
As with Double Blind, there are parts of this book that are a bit over my head. Intellectually speaking. But that doesn't really matter as I was able to just read through these parts and it didn't appear to mar my overall enjoyment of the book.
There were a few political moments and obviously covid was mentioned in dispatches but these were all in alignment with the characters and the time and setting.
And then there's the wit and humour which, happily, is right on my wavelength. Double Blind and this book are the only two books I have read by this author thus far but I have added the Patrick Melrose books to my ever growing TBR to keep me going until the next in this series is released.
My thanks go to the Publisher and Netgalley for the chance to read this book.

Parallel Lines has at its centre two characters: Olivia, a documentarian making a radio series about possible world-ending catastrophes, and Sebastian, a man in his fifth year of therapy with Olivia’s father, Dr. Martin Carr. It’s not giving too much away to reveal that the two lead characters, up to this point in their lives living ‘parallel’ but (almost) entirely separate existences, share a much deeper connection, which is revealed through the novel’s events.

Alongside these two, there’s quite the supporting cast for what is a relatively short novel. Notable significant others include Olivia’s friend Lucy and her techbro husband Hunter; Martin’s fellow psychologist wife and their biological son Francis (off eco-adventuring and contemplating philandering in South America); Father Guido, a friar who has been helping Hunter with a project; and Helio, an aspiring installation artist who Sebastian has met while institutionalised for a recent episode.

Despite the title, the book’s real interest is in bringing this eccentric cast of characters together, as memorably done towards its conclusion at a private dining event following an art exhibition. A little suspension of disbelief is required at the amount of coincidence required to achieve this (seemingly every character has some sort of tenuous connection to everyone else in the book), but it’s largely worthwhile, as this coming together is a standout of an otherwise somewhat uneven book.

Before going too far, I should admit one thing: I read this without realising it was a sequel to a book I hadn’t read. I don’t think I’m alone in this: much of the publicity avoids making this connection, presumably for fear of alienating newcomers, and at least one major review national newspaper’s review completely fails to mention it. In some senses I’m OK with this: it’s always interesting to review a book in this ‘pure’ fashion, to establish whether or not it stands alone (particularly when that’s how it’s being publicised).

On the other hand, I did feel slightly irritated (mainly at myself, for not having done the research). In this case, the existence of Double Blind explains away some of the bigger frustrations I had with Parallel Lines, namely that a large proportion of its extensive cast felt underused to the point where I was repeatedly left wondering why St Aubyn had bothered to include them. The answer is presumably largely fan-service of the ‘what are they up to now, I wonder?’ variety, for those who enjoyed the first book. From what I can gather, Olivia is the key character carried over from the first book, in that she remains central to this one rather than just one of many moving parts like the others who feature in both. But I could be wrong, of course, having not read Double Blind.

I don’t believe that Sebastian featured in that book (again, happy to be corrected on this!) and if we focus just on his story, Parallel Lines is much more satisfying as a standalone. In any case, he’s by some margin the most fully-realised character, the one with the most interesting storyline (around which everything else orbits, more or less successfully) and the spark for by far the best writing on display. This may be because, as with Melrose, in Sebastian we find St Aubyn diving again into the well of autobiography, which seems to be his richest seam. Sebastian is, of course, nothing much like Patrick. He’s endearing, somewhat wide-eyed at the world, and (at least by the book’s end) very much capable of charming and beguiling those around him. But like Patrick (and Edward) he has suffered abuse at the hand of his father (or fathers plural, in this case) and both suffered and caused suffering as a result.

His sections are the ones that fizz and spark, with his free associative language taking us on entertaining journeys (sometimes troubling ones, too, but always intriguing and betraying his character as a supremely intelligent mind boxed in by acquired social and mental blocks). There’s a childlike naivete to his thought process (hammered home a little in an interaction towards the conclusion) that enhances his charm even as we know it’s masking darkness.

The slight consequent issue is that most of the other characters fade into the background, including one of the key ones in Olivia, who I struggled to find especially interesting, and her family, who were perhaps purposefully annoying but not interestingly enough so. Hunter and Lucy may be more interesting to readers of the previous novel, but again I can’t comment. There are exceptions: Helio is likeable enough and works as a device for bringing Sebastian out of his shell as a character; and Father Guido is probably the other really interesting character in the book, though I didn’t feel we had quite enough time with him to fully explore his ‘man out of time and place’ role in the otherwise fairly culturally homogeneous grouping.

Ultimately, I found enough to enjoy in revisiting St Aubyn’s evident talents (particularly when they catch fire when voicing Sebastian) but didn’t feel this book entirely worked as a standalone. Sebastian’s development aside, plot points felt like they came and went, perhaps sometimes as some sort of resolution to threads begun in Double Blind and sometimes (as strongly hinted at the end) perhaps lighting the torchpaper for strands to be picked up in a future continuation. If St Aubyn is indeed reverting to this kind of multi-novel character development (and especially if Sebastian features prominently) then I’m fully on board with that, but in the meantime this felt in solus like a slight and only occasionally brilliant addition to his body of work.

(7.5/10)

Parallel Lines by Edward St Aubyn

Meet Sebastian,a young man undergoing long term psychiatric care. Then Olivia, journalist, documentary maker, her husband Francis,environmentalist,and their son Noah. They inhabit their own worlds; timelines in parallel,until circumstances and people cause a tilt to potential convergence.

This is a cerebral, intellectual book where in depth philosophical discussions, clever wordplay and reflections on life, elaborate a fairly simple story, though with equally challenging questions.

#docs.reading.room

I should begin by saying that i wish I'd read the book before this and I certainly shall read it eventually and just hope it makes sense to read in the wrong order. I have of course read the Melrose books and was hoping for something as good, which is totally unfair of me I know.

Anyway Ioved the set up idea of long lost twins reuniting after almost meeting each other before. It's a charming Shakespearean touch but quite horrific in real life especially when 'bio mum' wasn't really up to the job of any sort of parenting of two clever intellectually adept offspring, one with severe mental ill health. Sebastian is the twin who was accepted by birth mum which meant missed out on being adopted by the Carr family who adopted his female twin Olivia. Dr Carr then is eventually Sebastian's psychiatrist and there follows a tense few chapters where you can see the problems coming when Sebastian and Olivia find out.

It's clearly a novel of ideas but too obviously so at times, making characters hold forth about subjects at dinner parties or over drinks until you want to strangle them and beg them to move on. A very intellectual novel, but too much so for me because to me, once you saw the set up of the twins you so want to see what happens next in the narrative. The ecological issues and the criss crossing of all the other cultural and artistic issues with business and finance and stuff just made me want to skip parts of it and think 'Oh please, what are they on about? Tell me how Sebastian is doing now he's out of hospital!!' This is testament to St Aubyn's writing, and his ability to tell a story, but he's not hiding his extra interests with any subtlety and for me they pushed too much at the boundaries of my tolerance for clever clever writing which wasn't adding to the narrative. By the end perhaps, I might say it made sense to me.

It had won me over and I desperately wanted to know the next chapter of the story. Sebastian as a character is perfect at drawing you in with his naivety and vulnerability, added to his sort of uneducated but clever ideas which strike everyone he meets as being refreshing and charming. I found him very convincing in this respect and the ending has great charm and low key emotional impact. There must be more to follow.

In 2021 I read Edward St Aubyn's novel “Double Blind” and while elements of its were preposterous I concluded that I found it the most intellectually entertaining (or entertainingly intellectual) novel that I read in that year with its treatment of bio-diversity and extinction, epigenetics, brain mapping, venture capitalism, rewilding, the nature of consciousness, mind/brain dichotomy, psychoanalysis, mental heath and much more.

And this novel is a direct sequel to the first and while it can be read standalone – that is a little like saying that you can pick up a novel and read the second half only standalone – its neither what is intended I believe or certainly the right way to appreciate the novel and in fact will I think have a similar experience of finding yourself among a group of characters and plotlines already underway with limited backstory provided (the backstory of course being in the first book).

In particular the novel draws on a theme which particularly resonated for me in the first novel – twins – and in particular the separated at birth and both adopted pairing (with their Twelfth Night nod names) Olivia (adopted daughter of two psychoanalysts) and Sebastian (who is a patient of Olivia’s adopted father),

It follows both of the twins on their initially parallel paths (Olivia parenthood with her extremely unrealistically precocious young child Noah, Sebastian coming gradually to terms with managing his his schizophrenia – which thankfully also allows St Aubyn to gradually manage down his steam of connections chapters) and then on their inevitable intersection (which takes place at another of the slightly damp-squib set piece get togethers of all characters which seem to characterise this new series – but does feature the memorable both pre-imagined and double-meaning line “We don’t only have the same bio Mum we have the same psycho Dad”) – and perhaps more movingly through to the aftermath of the discovery of their connection in a closing section.

As well as having more character and feeling than the heavily exposition based first novel there is much more “art” and less “science” in this volume than the first – albeit one of the key themes of the novel is the artificial divide that has grown between the two (and between experimentation and experience, medicine and more holistic practices, and between disciplines in science).

The novel featuring for example the ballets of Crystal Pite and particularly “Statement” and her part of “Figures in Extinction”, Olafur Eliasson’s “Little Sun” (of course a deliberate science and art collaboration) and more than anything the light installations of James Turrell (including his installation at Houghton Hall).

Overall, while perhaps not up to the heights of “Double Blind” in isolation together it makes for an excellent series with the final part (and the penultimate sentence “To be Continued”) more than hinting at a welcome third volume in the series.

I enjoyed this book a lot as I found the characters and the writing interesting, funny and “thought-provoking(as one character observes, what can possibly be not thought-provoking?). The plot is not complex but the story kept me hooked. Martin is a psychiatrist and one of his patients is Sebastian, a strange, vulnerable young man. Sebastian is the most interesting character in the novel and I found him funny and engaging. He is undergoing therapy and has been in hospital and to him the world is a very odd place as his mind constantly makes all sorts of unusual associations between things.
Martin’s adopted daughter is Olivia and she has a slight and difficult relationship with her biological mother. I also found Olivia to be a sympathetic character.
The story really rotates around the relationship between these three characters though other related characters also appear and lend weight to the book.
The style of writing is fairly dense at times with long, complex sentences and a focus on ideas. It’s certainly challenging at times but I liked that.
This is the first book I’ve read by the author and it made me want to read more of his work.
Thanks to the publisher Jonathan Cape and Netgalley for an ARC in return for an honest review.

Of course authors evolve and move on but every time I see a new book by the gifted Edward St Aubyn I hark back to the unmatched and incredible Patrick Melrose series which as a lover of Simon Raven’s oeuvres I totally adored.

Of course this is humorous and beautifully written but the exploits of Sebastian and Olivia fail to grab me or even shock me to the extent his finest work did.

I enjoyed it and laughed throughout but I mourn the passing of Patrick Melrose and yearn for his return.

I haven’t read Double Blind, but after reading Parallel Lines, I will, and will reread Parallel Lines again.
The premise, while interesting, is a bit of a deus ex maccina.
When you get past it, which happens after reading the blurb and the first chapters, you get an engaging story about upbringing, psychology and human connection.
I liked how Olivia’s and Sebastian’s inner thoughts were written.

Absolutely loved this one. It's a really strong family story, with witty dialogue, contemporary issues, and astute social observations that, a few times, made me laugh out loud. I found the first chapter difficult to navigate but once I got my head around the style, he became my favourite character and I loved how St Aubyn depicted the families in the book. A great novel that I'll recommend to friends.

Parallel Lines by Edward St Aubyn is set to be published by Jonathan Cape on 1st May 2025.

Parallel Lines follows Sebastian, a mental health patient under the supervision of Dr. Carr, and Olivia, a mum coping with her young son's dinosaur obsession while she makes a podcast about the different ways we could become extinct in the near future. These two seemingly unconnected figures discover that they are biological twins, having been adopted at 18 months and birth respectively. Things are made even more complicated by the fact that Dr. Carr, Martin, is Olivia's adopted father.

The novel was recommended to me because I had enjoyed Séan Hewitt's masterful Open, Heaven and I can somewhat see the reasoning behind this, even if St Aubyn’s novel never quite reaches Hewitt's lofty, poetic heights.

I have never read any of St Aubyn’s previous work, although the Patrick Melrose series is one I was tangentially aware of due to its popularity. I have to say that he writes in an odd, philosophical way here that doesn't always quite ring true for his characters and I think in this case focusing so often on such pretty prose and philosophical thoughts comes at the detriment of plot and character. It came across more like Samantha Harvey's Orbital and Separate Rooms by Pier Vittorio Tondelli in this regard than Open, Heaven, both of which disappointed me (especially in comparison to Hewitt's work).

I have to say I struggled a lot with the opening chapters of the novel, and it wasn't until around the halfway mark that St Aubyn really hits his stride. The strongest sections are those from Noah's perspective, as St Aubyn expertly captures his voice as an underestimated, intelligent child. St Aubyn writes strongly on interconnectedness and the values we place on each other, however, and I left the book in a much more positive position than I had thought I would.

I found out by chance when I was about halfway through Parallel Lines, that it was a standalone sequel to Double Blind. It didn’t really matter, but I did find I had to keep checking who was who in the earlier part of the book, probably because they had all been more thoroughly introduced in the earlier novel. There were times when I found the story too wordy, too keen on examining interesting ideas in a way that felt a bit weighty for the narrative. The fragile but brilliant character of Sebastian, however, was a real delight and his connection, (or rather, reconnection),, with Olivia, his “Bio sis” was, for me, the highlight of the novel