Illustration: Sophie Kenyon
James Robertson’s The Professor of Truth is a heart-wrenching novel mixing an intensely sensitive exploration of grief and its attendant consequences with an enthralling voyage of discovery which keeps the reader constantly questioning their perspective and yearning for the truth. Drawing heavily on the tragic tale of the Lockerbie bombing, the novel follows the cynical Dr Alan Tealing, broken by the death of his wife and daughter in an air disaster, disillusioned by his work teaching English Literature and exasperated by the lack of closure that the apparently fraudulent trial has brought him.
Eighteen years after the bombing, Tealing remains consumed by the event, constantly searching for answers and evidence which may disprove the government’s explanation of the incident. Having driven away his parents and in-laws with his persistent denial of events, Tealing surrounds himself with documents and information which point to alternate possibilities. Concurrently, he grows distanced from his work, uninspired by the facts that can be found in studying fiction. Other than an intermittent affair with his erstwhile colleague Carol, he lives a life defined by loneliness, cut off and consumed by grief. It is into this life that Robertson throws the enigmatic Ted Nilsen. A former American intelligence agent suffering from terminal cancer, Nilsen arrives on Tealing’s doorstep soon after the death of convicted bomber Khalil Khazar, promising an insight into the case. Despite his initial scepticism about the stranger with a sudden desire to help his cause, Tealing finds himself intrigued by the hope of undiscovered evidence and invites Nilsen into his house.
Robertson merges the two men’s tense conversation with reminiscence about Tealing’s family and his response to their deaths, delicately intermingling timeframes into a tapestry of joy, suffering and frustration. Blending the pre- and post-accident worlds with the cold, snowy present beautifully illustrates the effect that Tealing’s grief has had upon his life. With each chapter, he reveals another avenue that he has explored only to be rebuked, becoming more and more agitated at Nilsen’s delay in relaying the information that he holds. The two men exchange philosophies for an entire afternoon, testing each other’s view of the events and questioning what it is that Tealing wants until the whole idea of truth has been dismissed as a fantasy that we shape for ourselves and judgment an arbitrary goal which supports a fabrication.
Yet as Nilsen rises to leave, he offers Tealing one last hope of satisfaction in the address of the key witness, now convalescing in Australia, who may offer certainty that the trial was a fraud. With this change in scene comes a change in tone and, subsequently, the novel loses a sense of its sure-footedness. Nilsen’s body is found among the snowstorm and, fearful that the authorities may discover their connection, Tealing flies suddenly to Australia in one final search for surety.
On arrival, he is confronted by a place threatened imminently by bushfires, which, through the persistent reminders of their potential beginnings as acts of arson, unsubtly echo the bombing and the uncontrollable destruction it has caused in Tealing’s life. This link is brought to conclusion when Tealing and the witness unite in a bid to extinguish the fire and save their lives, which despite its improbability offers hope of reconciliation.
Yet the second part’s most intriguing character is the witness’ wife, Kim, whose sage musings offer Tealing a stark mirror to view his life, identifying him just as much as a cause of pain as a victim of it. With this sharp-edged conclusion, Robertson pulls the rug from under his narrator’s perspective, thrillingly questioning Tealing’s position as he has sought to interrogate other’s and transforming his novel from an expert depiction of grief to a challenge of the concept of truth.
Part espionage thriller, part court-room drama, part requiem for everlasting love, Robertson’s hybrid novel excites as much as it empathises. Although some elements of the plot seem far-fetched, Robertson’s skill as a story-teller keeps the reader gripped in the corkscrews of his story before leaving them empty-handed, with only a doubtful distrust of the institutions upon which we build our lives.
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