Kevin Power's White City earned a spot on the 2022 Kerry Group Novel of the Year shortlist—and the 450-page paperback delivers the darkly humorous, biting commentary readers expect from a contender. Set in Dublin's affluent circles, the novel tracks what happens when privilege collides with bad decisions and worse company.
The Setup
Twenty-seven-year-old Ben—the embittered only son of a disgraced South Dublin banker—finds himself in private rehabilitation, surrounded by others who can afford round-the-clock care after overindulging their way to rock bottom.
His father's arrest for stealing €600 million from his own bank triggered the collapse. Ben moved in with his girlfriend Clio to cut expenses, took a job with a questionable marketing agency ("nowhere near enough to maintain his lifestyle"), and encountered James Mullens—an old school friend dangling a fast-money opportunity.
The Serbia property development opportunity seemed legitimate. It wasn't. What Ben doesn't realize until too late: Dublin investors against Balkan gangsters, a scheme doomed from the start. The result is "farcical—and dangerous."
Voice and Structure
Power tells the story in first person, letting Ben address his therapist Dr Felix directly: "How am I doing so far, Dr F? I hope you're happy with the family stuff."
The narrative intercuts therapy sessions with chronological events, building toward a devastating self-portrait. Ben knows exactly what he's done—he simply couldn't stop himself. This self-awareness feels authentic rather than redemptive.
What Works
The Dublin setting provides sharp social commentary on materialism and the nouveau riche. Ben's financial dependency on his father left him exposed; his relationships with both parents grew strained. Power delivers wicked humor throughout while examining how prosperity damages people even as it appears to reward them.
Why It Matters
White City joins a tradition of Irish novels interrogating the Celtic Tiger era—Claire Kilroy's The Devil I Know, Rob Doyle's Here are the Young Men—that use fiction to process what economic collapse did to individual souls. The stakes here are personal rather than societal: Ben doesn't represent a broken system; he's a man who chose badly and keeps choosing badly.
The trade-off**: Ben's self-awareness makes him sympathetic but not likable. Readers seeking moral clarity may find his perpetual self-sabotage frustrating. Those wanting sharp observation on how privilege breeds its own vulnerabilities will find plenty to discuss.
Who wins**: Readers who enjoy first-person narrators they can't quite trust. Satire lovers. Anyone cataloging the shortlist before the June winner announcement.
Who loses**: Those wanting redemption arcs or clear villains.
What to watch**: Whether the award committee favors this entry's dark humor over heavier entries, and how the therapy-frame structure plays against more conventional post-crash narratives.
Who Should Read This
| Read if you… | Skip if you… |
|---|---|
| Enjoy unreliable narrators | Need clear moral lessons |
| Like Irish literary fiction | Prefer fast-paced thrillers |
| Found Here are the Young Men compelling | Dislike first-person therapy-frame novels |
| Want the shortlist perspective | Need action-heavy plots |
Key takeaways
- First-person narrator balances self-awareness with self-destruction
- Dark humor masks genuine critique of privilege
- Therapy sessions create effective counterpoint to chronological collapse
- Essential for those tracking the 2022 Kerry Group shortlist
Frequently asked questions
Do I need to be familiar with Irish culture to enjoy this?
Some references may feel specific, but the core story of privilege, downfall, and self-deception translates universally.
Is this similar to other Irish novels about the financial crash?
Yes—think Claire Kilroy's The Devil I Know or Rob Doyle's Here are the Young Men. Same territory, different angles.
How does the rehab setting affect the tone?
It creates a frame for reflection that prevents the narrative from becoming purely action-driven, allowing Power to explore motivation alongside consequence.
How does it compare to other shortlist contenders?
The humor is more consistent than some literary entries, though the subject matter shares DNA with other post-Celtic Tiger examinations.
Is this worth reading before the winner is announced?
If you're working through the shortlist, this offers a distinct voice—darkly comic where others might be grim.