Before the reader begins Scarlett Thomas’s fantastically gripping new novel, it’s clear that this is a story – several versions, in fact – of catastrophe, its contents page a dossier of evidence. Letters, audio transcripts, drawings, photographs, pages torn from a hotel guestbook, and a confession: The Sleepwalkers is the tattered, singed and bloodstained scrapbook of a disaster.
As the narrative opens, Richard and Evelyn are honeymooning on the Greek island of Kathos at the exquisite hotel Villa Rosa, run by the mysterious and bohemian young widow Isabella. Doors at the Villa Rosa are left unlocked; so far, so idyllic – except that on the far side of the island is a squalid refugee camp, and the newlyweds’ union is clearly, from the outset, a seething mess of dark sexual secrets and lies.
