Please don't confuse this book for a thriller, when it is a mystery, and a great mystery at that. It can be slow at times, but I promise the payoff is worth it.

Although the story pulled me in right away, it slowed down too much and just did not hold my interest. The gothic setting was great and characters were interesting but this one wasn't for me. I didn't finish it.

I received a copy of this novel from the publisher via NetGalley.

2.5* rounded down.

SPOILERS THROUGHOUT

I loved the first quarter of this novel: the writing was great, the setting was interesting (Protestant police detective sent to investigate the murder of a Catholic priest in the home of one of the few remaining Protestant country families), and I liked Strafford with his wry humour and the way people kept mispronouncing his name. It became clear fairly early on that this was going to be about the influence of the Catholic church, but it did not turn out as I had hoped.

First Strafford's character seemed to change - suddenly he was lusting after every female who crossed his path, kissing the possibly mentally ill and definitely addicted Sylvia. He later realized that this was because he was in fact in love wth the schoolgirl daughter, Letty (Strafford is 34). None of these feelings seemed to stop him spending the night with a handily available barmaid, who was also in her teens. 

Then the solution to the murder of the priest was very unoriginal really - surely this has been done already. The "Interlude" section towards the end (which was long and took me out of the main story) was unpleasant to read. Also, why did Letty put the note in Strafford's pocket which led him to work out what was going on? It only served to implicate her brother and co-conspirator...

I really love this author and had very high hopes for this story. I was sadly disappointed. It was painfully slow and there wasn’t even very much mystery so it was an effort to finish it. Nothing terribly original here either. Others really liked it so I suggest you give it a try....it just wasn’t for me. Thank you NetGalley for the advanced readers copy for review.

Being already a fan of John Banville's writing, I was quite excited to be approved for a digital ARC to his newest book, SNOW. A hybrid of the Quirke novels and a classic whodunnit set in an Irish country house( amidst a blizzard hence the title), this novel is completely up my alley. Banville has an ability to effortlessly create atmosphere, and that has never been more true than in this novel. I felt the claustrophobia of being stuck in this mansion while numerous people are injured or killed, and the oppressiveness of the outside weather. Banville's characters - an unfulfilled priest, a curious young woman, a determined detective - are well-defined as is the cultural moment of 1950s Ireland. I was a little disappointed with the "reveal," however, in true classic crime structure, the epilogue truly righted that wrong. I was caught completely off-guard in the best way. Well done, sir.

A snowy Christmas season and the corpse of a beloved priest are the iconic starting points of Banville's latest novel, which is a beautifully written albeit faltering mystery. Read it for the prose and the characters, not for the suspense.

Entirely underwhelming. For an author of John Banville’s quality, tackling this subject matter means you had better bring your A game and bring something new and exciting to the table. Unfortunately, Banville really adds nothing new here. Some of the writing is crisp; I was particularly dazzled by a line comparing snowflakes to communion wafers, but there is absolutely nothing new or insightful here. Frankly, I’ve seen better takes on this well-trod story on TV. I also am puzzled by the decision to publish this under his own name and not his mystery author nom-de-plume, especially considering he references his main character from those books.

Thank you NetGalley and HARLEQUIN Trade Publishing for the eARC.
St.John Strafford is sent from Dublin to investigate the murder of a popular priest at the ancestral home of the Osborne family in Co. Wexford.  The weather is treacherous, unending snow and bitterly cold.  The priest was a regular visitor of the Osbornes.  The Osbornes are a strange family, in Strafford's mind, it's like they are all playing parts.  Osborne's wife is the strangest of them all, out of her mind on whatever drugs the doctor who attends her every day supplies her with.  
The killing of a priest is hard to swallow for most people in Ireland and the details of the killing are particularly gruesome, something the police and the Church don't want broadcast.  Strafford however is determined to find the culprit.
The book's tone is dark, especially with the inclement weather and Strafford himself is a solitary man, melancholy and prone to brooding, wondering if he is in the right job.  But I liked him a lot.
The writing is exquisite, I found myself wanting to get back to the book whatever else I was doing; somehow the atmosphere was soothing to me... why I don't know.  I also really liked the ending.  All in all I loved it and recommend it highly.

When life for the entire universe and planet turns on its end and like everyone else you "have nothing to do" while your place of work is closed and you are in #COVID19 #socialisolation,  superspeed readers like me can read 250+ pages/hour, so yes, I have read the book … and many more today. (I have played a "zillion games" of scrabble, done a "zillion crosswords" and I AM BORED!!!)

I requested and received a temporary digital Advance Reader Copy of this book from #NetGalley, the publisher and the author in exchange for an honest review.  

From the publisher, as I do not repeat the contents or story of books in reviews, I let them do it as they do it better than I do 😸.

The incomparable Booker Prize winner’s next great crime novel—the story of a family whose secrets resurface when a parish priest is found murdered in their ancestral home

Detective Inspector St. John Strafford has been summoned to County Wexford to investigate a murder. A parish priest has been found dead in Ballyglass House, the family seat of the aristocratic, secretive Osborne family.

The year is 1957 and the Catholic Church rules Ireland with an iron fist. Strafford—flinty, visibly Protestant and determined to identify the murderer—faces obstruction at every turn, from the heavily accumulating snow to the culture of silence in this tight-knit community. As he delves further, he learns the Osbornes are not at all what they seem. And when his own deputy goes missing, Strafford must work to unravel the ever-expanding mystery before the community’s secrets, like the snowfall itself, threaten to obliterate everything.

Beautifully crafted, darkly evocative and pulsing with suspense, Snow is “the Irish master” (New Yorker) John Banville at his page-turning best.

This is my first Detective Inspector St. John Strafford novel and although it was an interesting read, it wasn't a great read. Its history of Catholicism and its ruling of Ireland in the 1950s was well presented and the secrets in the village were dark as peat in a bog, the book just didn't flow or work for me. (Sorry, I did say I would be honest!)  As a librarian, if I do not learn something new or get engaged in the characters, I make a decision: I do not truly read/finish the book (I skimmed through it) as there are too many good ones out there to read and review. That also applies to just being a lover of books --- if it isn't interesting, on to the next one!		

You might like it or adore it ... it seems that the series has some avid fans - it just wasn't my cup of tea.

Thank you to Harlequin and NetGalley for providing an eARC in exchange for honest review consideration.

I'm one of those people who get excited to make connections between things. Movies and books, history and places, Easter eggs are my jam. So I'll be honest when I say that part of the reason I requested this one was because I love Irish literature. I took a few courses in college, visited Dublin a decade ago and can't wait to return, and since Peaky Blinders, I've been much more interested in the history and conflict in Northern Ireland and Repub of Ireland. Give me a murder mystery on top of that, and I'm all ears. 

Detective Inspector St. John Strafford is called in from Dublin to investigate the untimely death of a beloved priest at the home of an aristocratic family in Co. Wexler. The death is more sinister than he thought, and what follows is a classic murder mystery, pitting Strafford against the town as at every turn, it seems someone is invested in derailing his investigation. Indeed, the most accurate summation could be attributed to Strafford himself: either no one's guilty, or everyone is. 

With its motley crew of characters with quirky habits and mannerisms, Snow read as a satirical ode to Sherlock Holmes. There's humor, but it's a dry humor, such as the running correction of how to pronounce the Inspector's name or the morbid exchange with Lettie about murder suspects. Strafford himself is not a man of words, stumbling over similes and misquoting works of literature. I liked that about him, as well as his odd little ticks. The Second Mrs. Osborne tries on personalities like she tries on clothes (one minute aloof and flighty, the next begging for a cigarette) and I appreciated the nuanced characterization. 

However, I didn't love the book as a whole. There was an Oscar Wilde feel, which was nice, and Banville's writing is witty. The murder itself was predictable and while I laughed at the dialogue and miscommunications, for lack of a better word, I was neither surprised nor disliked the unraveling of events. Structurally, too, I felt some sections were incredibly dense, with one paragraph oftentimes spanning several pages without breath or pause. 

Overall, Snow is an interesting lineup of characters with a predictable murder mystery and speckles of dry humor. This could definitely be the type of book I'd recommend for fans of Wilde or Sherlock Holmes, but the dense prose and predictability left me wanting more.

During a snowy Christmas season in 1957, Detective Inspector Strafford travels from Dublin to Ballyglass House in County Wexford to investigate the apparent murder of Father Tom Lawless, a Catholic priest. The snow almost becomes a sinister character itself and the Anglo-Irish inhabitants of the house, the townspeople, the local police, and the Church produce their own whiteout conditions to derail the case.