The Book of David by Jean-Luke Swanepoel is a raw, poignant exploration of a tumultuous relationship. Through Leon Jonker's reflections and David Hale’s journals, Swanepoel captures the complexities of love, loss, and memory with a powerful emotional depth. The narrative’s honesty and introspection make it an unforgettable read.

I requested and received an eARC of The Book of David by Jean-Luke Swanepoel via NetGalley. Leon Jonker first meets David Hale on a San Francisco beach. David is naked, confident, and younger than Leon. The two share a conversation and don’t meet again for six months. Once they reenter each other’s orbit they find themselves in a relationship that ends when David dies. Leon returns to his home country, South Africa, and attempts to write his way out of his grief and to make sense of the life they shared. The narrative darts between the past and the present, the story of their relationship preserved in Leon’s words and, occasionally, David’s.

Sexy and tense. Gut-wrenching and lovely and slightly infuriating. I’m somewhat at a loss trying to describe this work. The dialogue in this book is fantastic. Swanepoel’s crafts lines that at times cut like a dagger, showing us the cracks and gray areas in David and Leon’s relationship, but he is equally skilled at enticing the reader with moments of flirtation or endearment. When I wasn’t enthralled by the dialogue, I was enthralled by what wasn’t being said. The author is very clever with his prose and his use of repetition, demonstrating on the page both the infallibility of memory and the way we construct the stories of our lives and versions of people as we perceive them.

The Book of David contains many terrific references, and is a real testimony to gay relationships, art and literature. The novel is short but impactful, many scenes have lodged themselves in my mind. The work is character driven and in it Swanepoel manages to create a portrait of a relationship that is both captivating and uncomfortable. Leon is such an interesting narrator with a very distinct voice. He isn't terribly likeable and there are moments where he seems to lack some self-awareness which to me only enhanced what the author achieves in this story (a very frank dissection of relationships — sort of like Anatomy of a Fall but without the potential mariticide and subsequent legal proceedings.) Grief, resentment, and desire abound in this book and I found that I couldn’t tear myself away from the page. Swanepoel’s writing really excited me and the dynamic between Leon and David felt very real. There were moments where I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry or curse at one of the characters. I was very impressed by this novel and I look forward to seeing how other readers respond to it.

When I read the description for this book, alarm bells went off in my head warning me that this would break my heart. And it did, In the most beautiful way. The prose in the book is so poetic and captivating.

'Stories are all we become in the end.'

After the genteel ‘The Thing About Alice’, Swanepoel’s follow-up is like a bolt of lightning to the senses. I really enjoyed it; though I must say I read it at a gallop to see what happens next in the tumultuous and self-destructive relationship between Leon and David.

Though a slim novel, there is a lot packed in. I am sure I missed numerous allusions on the first read; this is one of those books where you need to implicitly trust the author on the journey he is taking you on, and just go with the narrative flow.

So, we have intersecting timelines, places, characters, poems, journal and novel-within-a-novel extracts, and an unreliable narrator (not a very nice guy, but fascinating nonetheless). I really felt sorry for David; the ending is heartrending.

All the elements blend seamlessly into a really thrilling read that wrongfooted me on several occasions, as it took some rather unexpected turns. Or authorial sleights of hand, I suppose is the correct term.

I didn’t realise David was so young when he and Leon meet on the beach for the first time. We get no indication of Leon’s age, but he is considerably older. That reminded me of how Christopher Isherwood (48) and Don Bachardy (18) met for the first time in 1953, on Valentine’s Day, can you believe it.

The relationship lasted until Isherwood’s death in 1986 (I remember reading that Bachardy, an artist, painted portraits of Christopher in his final days, including one after he had passed). Leon also has artistic tendencies, and Swanepoel designed his book cover himself. Life and art, truth and memory, fiction and wish fulfilment all intertwine in a dark ouroboros.

Isherwood is indeed mentioned, and David’s recipe for a successful relationship has ‘A Single Man’ inevitability to it: “I believe in finding someone you can stand to be around for long periods of time.”