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I'm reluctant to give just four stars to a winner of the Man Booker prize, but I found Fludd murky and not nearly as captivating as the allusion to its alchemist forebear led me to expect. This novel is all about a small Catholic parish in Northern England. The timeframe is indefinite (I think) but it feels like the 1950s. The first half of the book describes the mundane travails of Father Angwin and a mostly miserable and impoverished group of nuns. The father must contend with a garrulous bishop, who is under pressure to update traditional religious practice by converting to English-language liturgy and doing away with idolatrous statuary. The title character Fludd does not appear on the scene until halfway through the book. At this point, the reader won't know what the stakes are or why he's there or, indeed, where the characters want to go. Okay, it's a literary novel and maybe it doesn't require a genre plot? But I didn't have a hint of what it was all about. Father Angwin assumes Fludd is a priest sent by the bishop to help institute the new practices. Amazingly, his credentials are never in question. In truth, Fludd my be an errant priest, a con man, an emissary of Heaven or Hell, or even Satan himself. You won't know by book's end. He does achieve transformations in the lives of clergy, particularly one Sister Philomena, a sweet, gawkish girl who is so unhappy that she doesn't know how much of life she's missing. This book wanted to be more than it was. At least, that's what I think I wanted. If I missed the point, I welcome your comments.