Pilgrims’ Progress?

A black man, a trans woman, and an Irish immigrant walk into a gallery. It sounds like the beginning of an off-colour joke, the type that makes its audience wince in anticipation. The type of joke that in these modern (hopefully more enlightened) times one might hesitate to tell. Uh-oh, we think, alarm bells ringing. But this isn’t the set-up to some dodgy punchline, it’s the subject of Patrick Warner’s third novel, My Camino, a story of three misfits bound together and a satiric look at the art world, identity politics, and political correctness. There are those alarm bells again (which ring with all the more urgency once we flip to the back page and spy the author’s photo). There is a lot to unpack here, but there is also much to enjoy.

Let us begin with the good. Warner is a poet as well as a novelist, and his prose is a pleasure to read. Rich and lyrical, agile and darkly humorous, it lends itself well to a droll voice: