Trust by Hernan Diaz

Let me start by saying I loved this book. The final turn got me good. I went in with some preconceived notions and completely missed the clues Hernan Diaz laid out, even after a coworker dropped hints! 

Trust is structured in four distinct parts, each building on the last to reveal the true story behind the myth of Andrew Bevel during the Roaring Twenties. Each part revisits the same core events—how Bevel amassed his immense wealth and subsequent public downfall after the 1929 crash—but from vastly different perspectives.

The first part, Bonds, is presented as a 1938 novel by Harold Vanner, a fictionalized biography of Bevel (whose name is changed to Rask). This section was the most challenging for me to get into, and it did create some initial confusion, especially when discussing it with a friend who had already finished. I think Diaz intentionally wrote it in a style reminiscent of early 20th-century prose, which, while effectively establishing the historical context, made it harder for me to connect with. The third-person narration, filtered through Vanner’s perspective, made the characters seem flat and one-dimensional. 

To be fair to the author, I also read Bonds during a difficult personal time around my birthday, which may have colored my impression.

However, Bonds established the pervasive myth of Andrew Bevel in my mind. It completely set the stage and, in retrospect, made me realize how easily I accepted the initial narrative at face value.

The second part is presented as an unfinished autobiography by Andrew Bevel himself. This added another layer of complexity, and I’ll admit, going in relatively blind (I hadn’t done any research beyond knowing it was a bestseller and a friend’s recommendation) added to the initial confusion. I wasn’t expecting to read an unfinished work in the middle of the book, something that I would think could throw anyone off guard.

Part three is where the book truly grabbed me. It focuses on Ida Partenza, who is hired by Bevel to ghostwrite his autobiography (which becomes part two). Ida’s perspective is crucial, as she begins to uncover the truth about Mildred (not Helen, which was the name in Bonds), Bevel’s wife, and her significant, yet overlooked, role. In Bonds, Mildred is portrayed as a fragile, artistic woman who meets a tragic end. I honestly can’t remember if she was even mentioned in Bevel’s unfinished autobiography.

As Ida delves deeper, she suspects that Mildred is far more than Vanner or Bevel would ever reveal. I, like Ida, was still somewhat blinded by the myth of Bevel established in Bonds, and reading this during the fall when I tend to gravitate toward thrillers, I initially suspected some hidden, terrible secret was the central mystery. Looking back, it’s clear that the book is a commentary on how powerful figures, like Bevel, try to control their own narratives, even if it means rewriting history.

Part four, titled simply Trust, is where everything clicks into place. It consists of Mildred’s writings, finally giving her a voice and revealing the true dynamics between her and Andrew. It exposes his deep insecurities and the reality behind the myth she helped create—a myth necessary in a time when a woman couldn’t be seen as more intelligent than her husband. Mildred’s reflections on her life, knowing her time is short and surrounded by people who don’t understand her, are heartbreaking. In the end, I was one of those people complicit in ignoring Mildred too.

Overall, Trust is a thought-provoking novel. It’s worth the effort, but I wouldn’t hold it against people if they couldn’t get through the first two parts. I especially appreciated the recurring musical motif, which beautifully tied into Mildred’s understanding of the markets as a kind of grand symphony. It was a powerful reminder of how easily we can be misled by carefully constructed narratives and the importance of looking beyond the surface. I learned that I still have blind spots when it comes to seeing the people behind the power, and I appreciated that lesson.