Transference

Ian Patterson’s Transference (238pp, Harvill Secker) is a remarkable exploration of the fragility of identity, the complexities of human relations and the pervasive power of memory. Patterson has created a book that’s as much about self as it is about the connections that bind humans together, and he achieves this through beautiful prose varying in subject matter, a narrative moving back and forth — past and present. At its best, this novel is a master's class in emotional precision, in psychological astuteness, in sonorous beauty.

It follows an unnamed narrator who embarks on a journey of self-discovery after an event shakes up his life. This deceptively simple story about love and loss develops into a weighty exploration of the means by which we create and recreate our identities as we move through time. Transference itself is a psychological phenomenon in which feelings and desires of one person are attributed to another, and that therefore, lies at the heart of this game. Patterson uses this idea as a thematic backbone and a narrative device, giving access to the subconscious functioning of his characters in a completely mesmerizing way.

Patterson’s prose is meditative, metaphorical, hauntingly beautiful at points. His descriptions of emotional terrain are both intimate and universal; his sense of human experience common, lingering in the echo that comes after the final page is turned. The pace of the novel is measured, allowing moments of silence and contemplation to exist on the same series of pages as more intense, dialogue-driven scenes. This balance is what makes the book effective: it tracks the protagonist: his mind and body seek different ends.

But what sets Transference apart from Patterson’s previous work is his dive into memory and how it influences our perception of the past. The patchwork quality of the protagonist’s attempts to reverse-engineer his past, and how the past reveals itself — or alters — over decades, is rendered with a specificity that should resonate with anyone who has ever fought with the vagaries of memory. Patterson isn’t one for easy solutions or heroes and villains, and this is one of the novel’s greatest strengths. Instead, he allows them a sense of ambivalence — that taught them that memory, like identity, is a fluid construct and also that it is something that we do not fully control.

The novel is also a poignant meditation on power dynamics in relationships. The protagonist’s relationships with others reflect a lens through which Patterson beautifully meditates on themes of reliance, frailty and layered love. The relationships feel raw and real in the book without being a cliché or a platitude. This is a story whose characters aren’t defined by job title or societal expectations, but by the contents of their minds and their hearts.

In essence, Transference is a story worth reading and the grain of thought. Patterson’s unique stylized writing gives a richness of touch, challenging you intellectually, but also demanding that you flinch when you see glimpses of your own fragile humanity. For anyone who enjoys literature that activates the mind as well as the soul, transference is