Gene Naro's Unspoken is a gripping modern re-interpretation of Oedipus Rex.

The story runs in two threads that eventually intertwine with tragic results. The first storyline involves Jack O'Brien, a respected southern bank executive, and his hubristic scheme to engineer the hostile takeover of a powerful New York bank. The second story is that of his son, Dan. Dan, a closeted homosexual in love with his straight boyhood friend, becomes estranged from his father after rejecting grad school and moving to New York City with hopes of getting into architecture. Neither man's life turns out nearly as planned, but the twists and turns in store for them are guaranteed to keep the reader turning pages.

Naro's characters have authentic lifeblood flowing through them. He trusts the intelligence of his audience enough to make you privy to their thoughts, allowing the reader to pass his own judgments. These are realistic people - compromised, wounded, uncertain and lost. I felt for all of them. Even a secondary character is provided with a backstory that is as heartbreaking as it is poetic, "His father's death was a punctuation in Marty's life; not a period, but one of a series of commas that strung together phrases of abandonment and survival, disappointment and struggle." Sad, simple and superbly expressed. Unspoken is filled with such insight and poetry.

The early parts of the story contain a lot of very dry discussion between Jack and the various board members about stocks and banking. Frankly, I know nothing about the financial industry and wading through some of this was just a bit trying despite the fact that I recognize Naro's apparently intimate knowledge of the banking industry lends the book authenticity and separates it from soap operas like Dynasty and Dallas. If you're anything like me, I urge you to stick it out, because once the bombshells start dropping about halfway in, they never let up. I truly could not put this book down once I realized what was happening.

As is the case with classic tragedy, the climax is inevitable and easy to see coming, but this doesn't make it any less heartbreaking. Preceding it, there's a bit of an overly wordy [and preachy] final confrontation that might've benefited from an editor's red pencil, but I'm guessing it might strike a satisfactory chord for certain readers. But minor quibbles aside, this is a remarkably accomplished book. I hope it reaches a wide audience. ( )