THE RESERVOIR

A wealthy New Yorker slips mentally off-kilter in this atmospheric yarn by the actor/writer.

Duchovny’s fifth work of fiction centers on Ridley, a former Wall Streeter who retired in middle age, giving him enough time to pursue banal art projects like a series of smartphone photos of the Central Park Reservoir taken from his high-rise window. Covid, which has recently arrived in the city, intensifies the divorced man’s isolation, which is also exacerbated by his contentious relationship with his daughter. As if to make up for her absence, he trains his gaze on a nearby apartment that he’s certain is occupied by a woman flashing distress signals. His ego swells: “He could star in his very own retrofitted-for-the-pandemic Rear Window. He could be her chivalrous knight, her Jimmy Stewart.” His derangement expands as he begins to follow the source of the signals into the park. A study of how internal concerns curdle into outward, tragic compulsions—particularly during an epidemic—the novel is a clear tribute to Thomas Mann’s classic Death in Venice; Duchovny cites it in the acknowledgments, quotes it in an epigraph, and introduces a homeless character wearing an army jacket labeled “Mann.” But Duchovny isn’t simply tracing over Mann’s plotlines and themes. Concerns about the distancing of technology, the shortcomings of the modern male ego, the fear of being out of touch, and the awkward push and pull of parenthood are all his own, and though the story is straightforward, it neatly captures Ridley’s slow decline in evocative, chilly prose that wouldn’t be out of place in a late Don DeLillo novel. Like his previous novels Bucking F*cking Dent (2016) and Miss Subways (2018), it’s a love letter to Duchovny’s native New York. But it’s also a smart story about obsession.

A slim, compelling tale of a man on the brink.