Sebastian Faulks

I've just finished a Sebastian Faulks marathon - I was lent a pile of his recent books and I read my way through them. I fancied reading them together to get a feel for his writing and style.

He's very much the popular writer of his age, but I detect in his more recent books, a desire to complicate and challenge. The actual content and themes of Human Traces and Engleby, his most recent books, although not at all difficult in terms of their style, were testing. Human Traces is concerned with the pre-history and germination of psychoanalysis, and it asks, implicitly, what if a different path had been taken? Freud isn't mentioned at all, yet his shadow hangs heavily over the book. The two protagonists, Thomas and Jacques, are striking out a path through the undergrowth of psychiatry in the late 19th century, but have no-one to guide them. It's an ambitious book, but not wholly successful, I thought. Faulks struggles with period settings and has trouble getting his characters to speak and behave as if they're actually living in the age into which they've been born. For example, Sonia, the main female character, can't help living speaking and breathing as a 21st century woman. Characters frequently employ modern vernacular and behaviour, and this made it difficult for me to be convinced by the book. Also Faulks has a rather literal, plodding style and sometimes you long for a poetic passage, but that's not his forte at all, so he sensibly steers clear.
Engleby was better, I thought, as it was set in the 1970s and 80s, a period though which Faulks has actually lived himself, so the book was much more convincing, though it still didn't stay with me after I'd finished it. He's not much good at narrative, and I felt both books meandered, and lacked a real focus. His books don't really satisfy, and don't linger long in the memory. I feel as if I've just munched on a Kit-Kat rather than a few squares of Green and Black's.
The Fatal Englishman was better. It's non-fiction for a start, the stories of three young men who lived in the 20th century and died prematurely for various reasons after living lives of great promise. I enjoyed the last one most, the story of Jeremy Wolfenden, the young gay man who died just before homosexuality became legal. Yet again, though, the books didn't stay with me for long, and failed to be truly memorable.
I don't know, perhaps it's just me getting old. Maybe my brain is less receptive. I'm going to go back to reading Jane Austen and the Brontes soon to test myself against the classics.