Beryl Bainbridge's Another Part of the Wood is a small, precise study of small, insidious deceits—mainly self-deceits. But their triviality does not bar them from exacting tragic prices. In a world where truth has passed out of human relationships, even the leaves on the trees seem unreal: They "glitter like glass." (p. 15)

[This] book has obviously been pared down, pruned of excess verbiage. Not that the author was ever long-winded, but she has a fine ear and previously has exhibited an enjoyment of dialogue for its own sake. Here the dialogue is not naturalistic; it does not seek so much to imitate class levels of speech (even if it does occasionally parody them), as to capture the quintessence of persons and states of being. No detail is accidental; everything works toward a clearly-defined end. If an atmosphere is established, it is part of the statement. Boredom, triviality...