Foregone by Russel Banks

 

This turned out to be a stranger novel than I anticipated, not so much in any genre or genre-adjacent sense, just that it's told strangely, in a strange voice (those are not the same thing). The ... primary POV/narrator--though he's not exactly narrating in first-person--is dying imminently of cancer that is affecting his central nervous system, especially his brain (or the treatment for the cancer is doing so, the difference doesn't seem important) so his memories and thoughts and his ability to express them are all in doubt, though his sincerity and his rage at his struggle are not. The narrative starts out as a relatively straightforward and believable thing, but gradually then rapidly becomes wildly disjointed and harder to discern the truths of. The themes actually clarify, though--maybe even emerge--as the narrative fragments, and the novel has some pointed things to say about the ways people (mis)treat and (mis)use each other, and the lengths we will go to tell and hide our inner truths, and the way/s we see our lives and the duration of them and their inevitable end. It's not an easy novel, textually or thematically, but it's a strong one, and I found it well worth reading.