In the Falling Snow

By Caryl Phillips

(Alfred A. Knopf; 308 pages; $25.95)

"In the Falling Snow" is a calm and serious novel of middle-age meltdown set in an exceedingly grim contemporary England. Caryl Phillips is an accomplished writer in several genres, particularly in historical fiction, but here he attempts to tackle the present day and its many absurdities.

The story takes place in the present and is interspersed with flashbacks, following several months in the life of Keith Gordon, a native-born Englishman of Afro-Caribbean descent in his late 40s. He is an educated and refined administrator at the office of Race Equality, Disability, and Women's Affairs, a job that no longer inspires him. He is in good physical and financial shape. Besieged by trouble from many angles, Keith has an ailing father, a knucklehead teenage son and troubles at the workplace stemming from a poorly managed relationship with a 26-year-old female subordinate.

His (white) ex-wife, Annabelle, who became estranged from her parents when she married him, divorced him some time ago upon the confession of his first and only affair. Poor Keith is not yet 50 and he feels that the world has passed him by, in terms of both technology and human interaction.

But Keith came of age during the lunacy of the race-baiting Member of Parliament Enoch Powell, menaced by "National Front kids on every other street corner" (as Annabelle says). How could he be such a wimp, so caught off guard by hooliganism? And could England truly be as bleak as the narrator suggests? It's almost like one of those Apocalypse-in-England movies.

Aside from Keith's weepy character, some other contradictions in the book are hard to accept. Annabelle's father took early retirement from the army because he could not stand that some of his superior officers came from a lower social class than he did. Yet what he is most bothered about regarding his daughter's interracial marriage is that the blokes down at the local pub do not like the idea and tease him. Annabelle's father also offers Keith a fishy handshake. If you were an ex-army officer who was suspicious of your future son-in-law, wouldn't you try to crush his hand just to test him?

The story begins with Keith awkwardly breaking up his sexual relationship with Yvette, his subordinate at the office. The next day (but much further into the novel), Yvette shares their correspondence with the entire office. Yvette, who has worked at the office for three months, accuses Keith of harassment and "technically, she's the innocent one here," says Clive, Keith's wily boss, who does his best to manage the situation.

Keith, a long-time veteran, is put on paid leave, becomes persona non grata, and so on. Clive gets the joke: "Like I told you, Yvette's back now and she's healing. I think that's what they call it. Bloody hell, what kind of language is that? They make it sound like she tripped and bruised her knee."

Keith's ailing father, as some British reviewers have noted, saves the novel. He tells Keith, "You're like a true Englishman, able to sit out here without a hat or scarf." In this statement and in many more meditations on identity, he echoes Daniel Defoe's satirical masterpiece "The True-Born Englishman." In a long, rambling monologue toward the end of the novel, he tells the story of his migration to Britain in 1960 and his subsequent travails. His discourse of ideas and anecdotes is gritty, brilliant, remarkable and worth picking up the book for. "The idea of England is fine," Keith's father says as he wraps it up. "I can deal with the idea. You understand me, son? I can deal with the idea."