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I was at the local library, desperately searching for something interesting to read. I found a copy of Michel Laub’s Diary of the Fall and I was attracted by the concept: Three men from different generations, each facing different problems (and yet with an underlying similarity). Sounded interesting for someone who likes literary fiction, right? Well, that’s what I thought too. But, unfortunately, as this review of Diary of the Fall will reveal, sometimes all the ingredients are there but the recipe is a failure.

Review of Diary of the Fall: Genre, Plot, Narrative

The novel is basically a series of diary entries. The grouping is loose, without any strict thematization or chronological order. The diaries belong to the narrator’s grandfather, the narrator’s father, and the narrator himself, describing three generations of Jewish Brazilians and their lives and struggles.

The genre is (or rather, it wants to be) some sort of literary-fiction-meets-bildungsromana novel dealing with the formative years or spiritual education of a person..

On the surface, all the checkboxes are ticked:

• Antisemitism and memories from the Holocaust? Check
• Terminal illnesses such as breast cancer and Alzheimer’s? Check
• School bullying? Check
• Alcoholism? Check
• Relationship trouble? Check
• Rebellion against parents? Check

A Narrative that Is too Thin

As you might guess, this book isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, and that’s alright. Darkness in literature exists because there is darkness in life, too. The problem isn’t the amassing of so many dark elements, but the repercussions of such a narrative choice.

To put it simply, the narrative is excessively thin. Michel Laub fails to properly develop any of the elements listed above, as they all end up vying for the reader’s attention.

Fair enough, they are all part of the same experience, but a cohesive element is painfully absent. Sadly, at no point does the reader feel engaged with the narrative.

In terms of plot, much revolves around the fall incident – where supposedly the life of the protagonist changed dramatically as a result of a prank that went bad.

The thing is, no matter how much the author tries to force the point across, repeating it ad nauseam, it simply doesn’t work. At best, there is a vague and half-hearted attempt at creating a metaphor between the incident and the narrator’s attitude toward his heritage, but it’s too thin and, frankly, pointless to matter.

Review of Diary of the Fall: Characters

The characters of a literary-fiction novel are crucial to the final result. Unfortunately, Diary of the Fall… falls flat on its face.

Much like the entire narrative, the presence of three characters all vying for attention through their diaries (though, it must be said, they are all presented through the narrator’s point of view) means that the reader feels nothing toward all of them.

At best, this is meant to replicate the feeling of indifference the narrator feels toward his Jewish heritage, as explained above. But this is a ludicrous way to approach the novel, and I can’t accept that this has been the author’s intention (if it was then it’s a silly narrative strategy).

Review of Diary of the Fall: General Impression

When all is said and done, Michel Laub’s Diary of the Fall is an example of what a lost opportunity looks like.

All the ingredients are there: a dark, horrific past; a rags-to-riches story; teenage rebellion; disease; re-appreciation; social and relationship problems.

But these elements are all scattered throughout the novel without a convincing cohesive link to keep them glued together. The novel feels less like a novel and more like a collection of narrative workshop drafts.

That the narrative feels fragmented is, to an extent, a result of the narrative choice to present the text as a collection of diaries and memories. But it’s the author’s responsibility to overcome the inherent limitations of such a format, and this author has not succeeded very well.

Perhaps the single most damaging aspect in Laub’s narrative is his insistence on repeating feelings and thoughts, trying to force a point across instead of actually convincing the reader.

Ultimately, a literary-fiction novel that doesn’t inspire its readers to identify with the characters, that doesn’t make them think “what if”, has failed. That this can occur despite the darkness of its themes tells of a fundamental error in narrative planning, and I’m afraid this is what has occurred here.