For his second novel, Jonathan Coe presents an intriguing premise: after 12 years, a group of old college roommates find themselves drawn back to their old dorm, now a sleep disorder clinic, for treatment of various ailments. To this odd coincidence add an eclectic mix of characters: a narcoleptic schoolteacher, an insomniac film critic, and a doctor who believes that sleep is a disease. A good foundation, at the very least, for an entertaining made-for-TV movie. But Coe strives for more then mere entertainment, peppering his text with psychology, technical sleep analysis, many penetrating insights and a gift for realistic dialog. However, many scenes are driven by an odd, distinctively British sense of humor - a paper on the film industry with hilariously confused footnotes is a particular gem - that may bewilder or annoy those readers without a healthy background of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Connoisseurs of this strange British mentality will find much to marvel at. But in the end, The House of Sleep suffers too much from its turretical plot- twists and reversals to be anything more then a thriller that, ironically enough, makes for a good bedtime read.
This review originally appeared in The Weekly Alibi.
© Todd Meigs.
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