Ingenious Pain

Precise, cold, and cutting. Reflecting the lead character Dr. James Dyer, the author succeeds admirably in impressing upon the reader the lack of passion, empathy, or human feeling in this story. That is not a condemnation; to the contrary, by the time the novel has finished, Dyer has gone through a transformation to a more sympathetic character, producing a strong emotional response. This novel continues the favorable trend I've seen with English authors, including Rupert Thompson and Patrick McGrath. I find something about their writing styles fascinating and alluring, so crisp, cool, and ultimately detached. The novel takes place in the early 1700's. James Dyer, bastard son, is born without the ability to feel physical pain. As one might imagine, this opens the doors to some interesting careers, including con artist sidekick [magic elixir cures all pain, buy now], and high society medical curiosity. Eventually though, Dyer, who incidentally is as uncaring and emotionally aloof as he is impervious to injury, decides to become a physician. Slicing and dicing with gusto and a stilted bedside manner, he creates quite a name for himself, including a stint in the British navy. A sprint to the far reaches of Russia is necessary for James to begin his descent to the world of pain for his hubris. Contributing to this descent are his erstwhile travel partners and a mysterious, almost otherworldly presence in the character of Mary. Dyer's eventual indoctrination to the world of pain he has skirted for so long is shattering. The remainder of the novel deals with slow, painful metamorphosis. Upon completion I like to reflect on the emotion(s) produced by a novel. With Ingenious Pain, it is pity and sympathy. A very good read, and recommended.

What a thrill to read a novel by a first time author so skilled and so committed to his subject that he can reject all the conventions and still get his surprising book published--receiving rave reviews on two continents in the process! Miller sets the book in the eighteenth century and begins with a graphic autopsy of the main character. Here he recreates the philosophical and scientific attitudes of the period, attitudes which are alien to our own, and which he will explore as a subtext throughout the book. He summarizes the life of the main character--which he spends the rest of the book recounting--in the first chapter, eliminating any climactic excitement he might have created. His main character is a man with the inability to feel pain, someone with whom the reader cannot possibly identify, and his adventures are weirdly melodramatic, so unusual the reader's interest lies primarily in their curiosity. Yet the book "works," and very often thrills. Somehow he does manage to make the reader care about James Dyer and his fate, and he does create excitement in a plot which skips from small town England to the court of Russia. Miller's masterful and controlled use of description is a primary factor in his ability to further the action of this unusual story and bring the characters and the period alive. This reader was awestruck by Miller's creative daring--and by his success. Mary Whipple

I don't remember ever reading a first novel that captured my attention so completely while simultaneously challenging all of my standard expectations for fiction. Almost everything about this book was a pleasant surprise. Set in the Eighteenth Century, this somewhat picaresque tale follows the life of James Dyer, a man born without the ability to feel pain, from conception until his death. The book actually begins with Dyer's autopsy, a scene that is puzzling (since there is no exposition) and brutally ugly. I was tempted to put the book down, since for the first thirty or so pages scenes and characters appear with no context and I had very little idea of what anything meant. That would have been a mistake. As soon as the author leaps back to the day of Dyer's conception and the story begins to move forward I was hooked. Because James cannot feel pain he never develops empathy with others and grows to be a remarkably capable surgeon but a very cold man. The story of his awakening as a real human being, which occupies the last quarter of the novel, is very moving without the least traces of sentimentality.The cast of characters that Andrew Miller has invented as supporting players are all interesting and complex. The stages of Dyer's life, from a childhood on a farm (where he was thought to be an idiot since he didn't speak), through a stint as a medicine show freak, then as a 'specimen' of human oddities by a wealthy collector of such, to a life at sea, the building of a successful practice as a surgeon, affairs, duels, flight, a dangerous journey to St. Petersburg and then the collapse of his sanity and his health resulting in a stint in London's notorious Bedlam hospital, are all told in a style that while borrowing from some conventions of eighteenth century writing never try to ape it. I loved the sound of Miller's words and the shape of the sentences. This is a book I could have enjoyed reading aloud.This is a complex book on many levels, but not an inaccessable one. The story - once into it - is clear and the characters are cleanly drawn. There are enough ups and downs of fortune to keep even the most jaded fiction fan interested while at the same time the complexity of character, language and theme provide much for those who love to puzzle out the hidden meanings in literature.This was a fascinating book and I was sorry to see it end. I really recommend it to anyone who wants something that can challenge the mind while satisfying all reader's love of a good story.

James Dyer was born without the ability to feel either pain or emotion. As such, he lacks empathy, the epitome of all human qualities. What happens when James undergoes a radical transformation forms the central questions this novel poses--Is it pain that defines our humanity and lies at its heart? Does a surfeit of pain destroy humanity as effectively as does its absence? How do we achieve the necessary balance between empathy and self-destruction? Ingenious Pain encompasses a brilliantly original premise, almost faultlessly executed. Andrew Miller has created complex and believable characters of tremendous emotional depth in a setting true to its times. His extraordinary use of language paints a word picture that reaches both the depths of despair and the heights of hope, ending on a note of both tragedy and joy. The juxtaposition of the unfeeling Dyer against images of astounding richness creates metaphors of striking beauty and pain. The book's only fault lies in its lengthy backstory. Miller spends far too much time detailing Dyer's childhood, time that could have been better and more interestingly spent detailing Dyer, the man. (The sections with Gummer and Mr. Canning, in particular, seemed to serve no useful purpose and did nothing to enrich the book.) Although slightly less than perfect, Ingenious Pain is still astounding in its brilliance; a novel whose theme and symbolism will haunt you with questions for years to come.

This is a first novel? Fantastic! The language is so rich with sensory imagery, and the rhythms of its structure so musical that it borders on poetry. The story, too, is poetic, and one to pierce to the heart. James Dyer is born without the ability to sense pain or pleasure. As such, he is not truly human. He knows no sympathy or empathy, and therefore no love, no joy, no sadness; how could he?When he is finally "fixed", and, as an adult, is basically re-born to natural pain and pleasure, all the accumulated experiences of his flesh, throughout his life, are still to be felt. And it drives him temporarily mad. And yet, in his agony, he still knows that he has been saved from an incomplete existence.This is a complex and beautiful book, that illuminates the richness of ordinary human life, through its discovery by an extraordinary man. Not for intellectual or emotional lightweights.