The Morels

Hacker earns all the stereotypical accolades of a debut novel—promising, ambitious, sincere—but his execution is far more original, and the result is an odd alloy of kitchen-sink family drama and metafictional inquest. Arthur Morel, who as a child was a talented violinist with a flair for self-sabotage, has just finished his second novel (also called The Morels), a barely fictionalized account of his relationship with his wife Penelope and their son, Will. His book’s last scene, however, depicts Arthur and an eight-year-old Will engaging in a sexual act that shocks the public and quickly scuttles his relationship with his family, who are unmoved by his claims of poetic license. Penelope begins to suspect that the novel is an oblique admission by her husband of more than a merely unsavory imagination, and soon Arthur’s mounting troubles become a legal matter. His only remaining ally is a small-time filmmaker, whose faith in his friend’s innocence leads him to make a documentary that might uncover the facts behind the fictionalized Morels. Savvy readers will know that Hacker is up to something from the beginning, and what develops is an eloquent treatise on the rights of artists to exploit their personal histories—and why they do so, and at what cost. The payoff goes a long way toward justifying an overstuffed middle section that suffers from the frequent absence of the novel’s two anchors, the ever-frustrating Arthur and precocious Will. Hacker does more than establish himself with this fine debut; he delivers a mission statement and the book retains the same ability to shock as its namesake. Agent: Douglas Stewart, Sterling Lord Literistic. (Apr.)