The Review of Contemporary Fiction

Prague, by Arthur Phillips
reviewed by Jason D. Fichtel

Untitled document

Arthur Phillips. Prague. Random House, 2002. 367 pp. $24.95.

Prague opens with its main characters not in Prague but in Budapest, seated at a bar and playing a game called “Sincerity,” in which players make true and false statements and are then rewarded points for detecting lies and successfully concealing their own. These players are of the new “Lost Generation”—young foreigners (in this case, four Americans and a Canadian) living in Europe in the early 1990s. Nothing in the novel actually happens in Prague, and instead we watch these characters go about trying to find their identity and purpose in the streets of Budapest, all the while suspecting that in Prague things are far more authentic. The novel unfolds as these characters’ lives intertwine, and throughout there are some very fine moments. For example, John Price, an American journalist who has followed his brother overseas, writes a newspaper column in which he perhaps too closely captures the attitude of his generation of Soviet Studies majors and youth who get their knowledge of the Cold War from “CIA techno-thriller novels.” Another character, Mark Payton, is in Budapest working on his doctoral dissertation on the history of nostalgia, and the discussion of how coffeehouses came to be the centers for artistic production is so good I can almost recommend the novel on the basis of this scene alone. Phillips himself comes with quite a pedigree—as the dust jacket notes, he has been many things in his life, perhaps most impressively a five-time Jeopardy champion. I highlight this qualification because, at times, Prague reads as if its sole purpose is to illustrate the copious knowledge of its author. A section entitled “The Horváth Kiadó,” which describes the entire history of a publishing house, bogs the novel down and seems only to serve as Phillips’s extended attempt to prove his ability to create detailed history. But despite this, the novel is an entertaining read. Phillips possesses an extremely keen eye for detail, and the humor that pervades the novel works every time.


Interview with Founder Board of Directors Funders Submission Guidelines Dalkey Archive Full Catalog Current and Forthcoming Titles Recent Titles Review of Contemporary Fiction Special Library Offer Special Backlist Sale Stores & Wholesalers Academics Libraries Reviewers Context Casebooks Author Interviews Links Dalkey Archive News Events Newsletter

The Review of Contemporary Fiction Prague, by Arthur Phillips reviewed by Jason D. Fichtel Untitled document Arthur Phillips. Prague. Random House, 2002. 367 pp. $24.95. Prague opens with its main characters not in Prague but in Budapest, seated at a bar and playing a game called “Sincerity,” in which players make true and false statements and are then rewarded points for detecting lies and successfully concealing their own. These players are of the new “Lost Generation”—young foreigners (in this case, four Americans and a Canadian) living in Europe in the early 1990s. Nothing in the novel actually happens in Prague, and instead we watch these characters go about trying to find their identity and purpose in the streets of Budapest, all the while suspecting that in Prague things are far more authentic. The novel unfolds as these characters’ lives intertwine, and throughout there are some very fine moments. For example, John Price, an American journalist who has followed his brother overseas, writes a newspaper column in which he perhaps too closely captures the attitude of his generation of Soviet Studies majors and youth who get their knowledge of the Cold War from “CIA techno-thriller novels.” Another character, Mark Payton, is in Budapest working on his doctoral dissertation on the history of nostalgia, and the discussion of how coffeehouses came to be the centers for artistic production is so good I can almost recommend the novel on the basis of this scene alone. Phillips himself comes with quite a pedigree—as the dust jacket notes, he has been many things in his life, perhaps most impressively a five-time Jeopardy champion. I highlight this qualification because, at times, Prague reads as if its sole purpose is to illustrate the copious knowledge of its author. A section entitled “The Horváth Kiadó,” which describes the entire history of a publishing house, bogs the novel down and seems only to serve as Phillips’s extended attempt to prove his ability to create detailed history. But despite this, the novel is an entertaining read. Phillips possesses an extremely keen eye for detail, and the humor that pervades the novel works every time.

Search the full text of our books: