In the wrong hands, this book could feel overdetermined ... McLaughlin’s writing is so dry and understated, though, that there’s a sense, even while the tightly packed plot neatly unpacks itself, that these are haphazard incidents in an unfurling life ... The strength of the book lies in its slow-building picture of the way that intimacy and estrangement can coincide ... Through her acute and thoughtful take on issues of truth-telling, McLaughlin reminds us that the novel remains a good mode to investigate our relationship to truth, in part because as a made-up form it remains flexible in its idea of truth ... Being and seeming are both put brilliantly in question in this moving and quietly uplifting book.
... for such a meaty, sparky book — McLaughlin keeps multiple plates not just spinning, but humming harmoniously — the only disappointment is the mimsy, wishy-washy title (the working title Retrospective seems more fitting). It’s a superior work of character-driven literary fiction in the spirit of Bernard MacLaverty or Tessa Hadley. That traditional form, one built on authority and control, may not chime with judges looking for new voices and forms; the prospect of a cracking dinner-party scene may not make your blood rush, but it worked for me. What I’m saying is, if The Art of Falling doesn’t make a prize shortlist or two this year, we should riot.
[McLoughlin] tackles her complex plot with the precision of a master technician: conflicts escalate, and with them suspense, in a well-paced and meticulously conceived narrative ... raises thoughtful questions about responsibility and truthfulness in intimate relationships, about artistic authorship and ownership, and about the roles of gender and of generations in artistic production ... McLaughlin captures the textured tapestries of these compellingly believable lives, from the expensive cars parked outside Jennifer’s private school to the needling discomfort of recalling, in precise detail, the transgressions of decades past. At the same time, The Art of Falling—a title whose layered cleverness only eventually becomes clear—is perhaps a mite tidy, its strands rather too perfectly braided.
...a compelling exploration of the ethics and emotional contours of marital affection and sexual infidelity ... Despite a shared atmosphere of anxiety and suspicion, The Art of Falling is a more stylistically conventional work than Dinosaurs on Other Planets, mostly shorn of the menacingly fantastical, often surreal, imagery that characterised McLaughlin’s debut. There is also an undeniably melodramatic quality to the narrative ... What sets The Art of Falling apart, however, is the oblique dialogue between its rather histrionic narrative and the novel’s probing exploration of the nature of creativity, an exploration marked by a welcome frankness about the cant that so often surrounds art as well as a celebration of its raw emotive power ... McLaughlin is a master of charting the volatility of characters’ perceptions of themselves ... a gripping and thoughtful novel, taut with narrative suspense and brimming with emotional insight.
Danielle McLaughlin is a remarkable writer. Reading Dinosaurs on Other Planets, her 2016 collection of short stories, one is struck by the sheer gorgeousness of the prose, particularly in descriptions of natural settings; by the quick, seemingly effortless characterizations of her often very complex characters; by the elegant and sometimes devastating economy of the narration; and by McLaughlin’s sure-handed sense of the shape of the short story. It’s exciting to read the work of someone who is so clearly gifted. In her new novel, her first, The Art of Falling, we encounter many of these same gifts, but here they’re not offered with as sure a hand. And when they do make themselves evident, they often seem swamped by a tendency to pile on event after event, as if that were the difference between a short story and a novel—the need for more to happen, and even more after that ... It’s hard, too, to hold onto the sense we have of other characters, because their behavior often seems dictated by the necessities of the complicated plot; and this, in turn, makes it harder to hold onto a clear sense of what, exactly, the plot is.
McLaughlin’s debut takes some time to coalesce, but as the plot moves forward, the connections become clearer. The art-world mystery is nicely balanced with family and interpersonal drama, and the climactic ending is authentic and believable. Readers who enjoy Maggie O’Farrell and Ann Patchett will be drawn into Nessa’s story.
... anyone who has read Dinosaurs, with its breathtaking details and insights, may be surprised at the shift into more commercial territory for the Cork author’s first novel. There is not the same exactitude in the prose, there is a little too much exposition in dialogue, and at times certain confrontation scenes feel overly dramatic, which detracts from the tension in an otherwise well-paced novel ... Happily, at least for this reviewer, who has long been a fan of McLaughlin’s writing, there is also much to love about The Art of Falling ... Nessa is an authentic and interesting creation whose self-awareness and dry wit will appeal to readers ... The book has insightful things to say on the creative process and the damage that can be done in the name of art.
How this plays out, as well as the mystery of Doerr’s relationship with Locke, is slowly teased as the narrative builds to a thrilling climax. McLaughlin’s descriptions of the art and its appeal have an almost mythic quality, and she has a gift for precise characterization. This engaging and evocative work will stay with readers.
