The importance of plot

As literary fly-on-the-wall moments go, it would be hard to beat. John Banville – the most austerely mannered stylist in the language, the archbishop of literary fiction – hands his publisher the typescript of his latest. Then he springs the surprise: by the way, it’s a crime novel. Plot, character, the lot. One would forgive the publishing exec for falling horizontal from the shock.
 
The only possible hint of such an inclination had been with Banville’s 1989 novel, The Book of Evidence. And it’s a faint one at that. Narrated by a murderer from his cell, the book is more Proust than Poirot with its prissily exact narrator and leisurely investigation of motive (or the lack of it). No surprise there. Banville’s position in the literary ecosystem was always that of provocative nemesis to the plot-and-pace merchants. Whereas Martin Amis might try his hand at the cop novel with Night Train, or Julian Barnes flirt with the stuff when moonlighting as Dan Kavanagh, Banville continued his priestly devotion at the altar of high art, steadfastly refusing to dilute doctrine for the sake of populist razzmatazz.