Since coming to Harvard, I've often joked with friends that I couldn't possibly get by with any less than six hours of sleep every night. Tales of students with the ability to pull one or even two all-nighters in a row continue to amaze me. Yet Jonathan Coe's The House of Sleep puts even these feats of slumber to shame; insomnia, somnambulism and narcolepsy are among the much more serious disorders with which his characters are attempting to come to terms. Coe tells a well-constructed story in which the themes of unrequited love, sexual identity, the ups and downs of the film industry and psychotherapy are intricately woven in a pattern that never fully reveals itself and leaves the reader curious to the very end. Despite occasionally questionable choices in symbolism and the awkward development of one leading character, The House of Sleep--ironically enough--makes for a compelling nighttime read.

In 1984, Ashdown Manor served as a residence hall for an eclectic group of British university students: Sarah Tudor, a wistful teacher-in-training prone to occasional lapses in consciousness; Terry Worth, soon to be the bohemian film critic of his generation; Robert, one of Terry's closest friends; Gregory Dudden, a cold-hearted, egocentric medical student; and Veronica, the militant lesbian whose dreams of work in the theater always remained unfulfilled. Sarah had only recently broken up with Gregory when she met both Robert and Veronica. Veronica had quickly aroused in her a new passion, forcing Sarah to make it clear that she and Robert could be nothing more than good friends. This sent the young man into a depression that was to last for several years.

By 1996, Ashdown is no longer being used by the university. Dr. G.K. Dudden--as Gregory is now known--has instead acquired the hall and converted it into a clinic for the study of sleep disorders. Having never met Terry during their college days, Dudden doesn't find it at all odd that the now well-respected film critic has agreed to visit the clinic after sitting through a 10-day film marathon without falling asleep once. In fact, it is Dudden's distantly-familiar female colleague, Dr. Madison, who makes the connection that both men once lived in Ashdown, the first of several oddities she reveals throughout the story. Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Sarah has taken a teaching position, after having kept in touch with Terry for a fair amount of time. However, she can't keep from wondering what has happened to Veronica and Robert in the interim, particularly why the latter's isolated attempts to contact her had been so cryptic.

The story proceeds from here, one chapter describing events in 1984 and the next relating more recent happenings. This intercalary structure provides something of a segmented, but not at all discontinuous feel, much like the transition in a movie between one scene and another. In fact, the discontinuity embedded in the structure actually facilitates the reader's comprehension of intrachapter flash-backs and seemingly out-of-place transcriptions of dialogue between Sarah and her analyst. Linear narrative and a continuous stream of events are not so important to the plot as the actual events them-selves--much in the same way that the images of a dream don't present themselves in any discernible order, but when properly analyzed, make a great deal more sense. In this respect, Coe's manipulation of the sleep theme is communicated very effectively.

By and large, much of what motivates the story-line is the author's skilled development of Sarah and Terry's characters. Presented toward the beginning of the novel as a weak young girl, subject to fits of narcolepsy and an emotionally abusive relationship, Sarah undergoes a remarkable transformation throughout the course of the story. By the end, she has become more confident and aware--indeed, more fully understanding of her sexual identity, the trauma she has endured and the pain she has inflicted upon others. Similarly, Terry's metamorphosis from the brash, omniscient film critic to a journalist coming to grips with his craft--one who wishes to mold the direction of his career--works because it is so human a change, one to which the reader may very well have access through either personal or shared experience.

But as skilled as the author is in strengthening certain characters, his choice to weaken Dudden by exposing the doctor's neuroses seems not to fit with the rest of the story. As a student, Dudden might have been described as cold and analytic at best. However, Coe's decision to allow the doctor to become consumed by a desire to live in a sleepless state proceeds in a forced and unconvincing direction. Insinuations that Dudden is little more than a mad scientist whose experiments in the realm of sleep deprivation must be stopped are tiresome and perhaps even inappropriate by the end of the novel; they unnecessarily detract from the strongpresence of Coe's other characters.

This is not to say that the oft-ridiculousscenes involving Dudden are a total failure. Infact, quite possibly the funniest event in theentire story involves a day trip the doctor takesto a meeting in London designed to introducepsychiatrists to the intricacies of managed healthcare. Two completely inexperienced recent collegegraduates are presiding over the seminar, their"consulting strategies and advice" to the room ofprominent and respected therapists about as usefulas finger-painting is to a high school senior. Theonly person at all interested in these theories isDudden, who can't comprehend why his colleaguesdon't appreciate these business skills that haveclearly allowed psychology to thrive in the UnitedStates. The scene is colored with a wonderful castof both idealistic and embittered secondarycharacters, and it provides a much-appreciatedmoment of comic relief as the story prepares toexpose the secrets that lie within its conclusion.

Aside from a number of vague references toBritish politics and an unconvincing attempt touse a fictitious book of the same title as asymbol of the "dream within a dream," The Houseof Sleep remains a particularly strong story.Its diverse characters effectively confront anumber of modern issues as the reader watches themmature, and the novel's structure allows secretsto remain hidden until precisely the point atwhich they would best be revealed. Keep this storyin mind when you're looking for your nextnighttime read; rest assured, you'll probably begetting a better night's sleep than thecharacters