Meltdown: Greed, Scandal, and the Collapse of Credit Suisse, Duncan Mavin, 2024

 

Rating: 4/5

This is one of those non-fiction books that arrives with a built-in sense of drama. The story of Credit Suisse, a 166-year-old banking institution collapsing under the weight of its own excesses, is inherently compelling. A 300+ page non-fiction book either needs to be anchored in rich history and narrative tension or offer deep, original insights to justify its length. Fortunately for Mavin, the former is certainly true here. He traces the arc of the bank over several decades, from its conservative Swiss roots to its eventual transformation into a sprawling, risk-hungry global institution. That said, for someone familiar with financial markets, there are no real insights. And for most who aren’t, this story may not hold quite as much appeal as the author perhaps assumes.

My own interest in the book was more personal. I was a relatively senior employee of Credit Suisse for about 10 years, albeit in a small international operation. Being far removed from the shenanigans at headquarters, I was initially bewildered by how the bank could dig itself into a hole year after year, then angry that the greed or foolishness of a few senior individuals was damaging the stock—which formed a significant part of my compensation—and ultimately saddened that the efforts of local teams to build a strong franchise over nearly two decades came to little. An important reason for picking up this book was to understand why this happened. The reasons, as laid out here, are fairly straightforward: weak risk controls, a lack of ethics, the greed of a few at the top, and a focus on short-term individual gains rather than the long-term stability of the bank, exacerbated by frequent changes in top management. So … no real new insights really.

There were, however, a few things that stood out as new or surprising. Contrary to the perception that most of Credit Suisse’s chaos was recent, its troubles date back to at least the 1970s, when it logged about $800 million in losses while helping wealthy Italians hide money through offshore entities. I also hadn’t realised that Swiss banks were required to pay $1.2 billion in reparations related to dormant accounts from the Nazi era – accounts where little effort had been made to trace rightful heirs. From there, the bank seemed to lurch from one controversy to another: helping wealthy Americans evade taxes, violating US sanctions, and becoming entangled in corrupt dealings in Mozambique, eventually culminating in the rather bizarre episode of spying on its own senior executives.

The epilogue ties together this long decline with the final collapse, which feels almost inevitable in hindsight. Years of missteps had eroded trust to such an extent that the institution became extremely fragile. What is striking is how little it ultimately took to trigger the end – market jitters, a random tweet, and even confusion around whether SNB stood for Swiss National Bank (the central bank) or Saudi National Bank (Credit Suisse’s largest investor). In the end, it was not just decades of poor decisions but a complete loss of credibility that sealed Credit Suisse’s fate. Mavin tells this story adequately, though at times the narrative does feel very familiar.

Pros: Interesting long-term narrative of Credit Suisse’s decline, several lesser-known historical episodes

Cons: Lacks fresh insights for readers familiar with financial markets, may not hold strong appeal for those without prior interest in the subject.

Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver, 2022

 

Rating: 5/5

This is the second retelling of a classic that I’ve read in about a year, the first being James by Percival Everett. When I first picked up both books, I did so with a fair amount of scepticism. Retellings often feel like clever literary exercises rather than fully realised novels in their own right. Would revisiting familiar narratives really produce anything fresh or meaningful? In both cases, happily, my doubts proved unfounded. Much like James, Demon Copperhead turned out to be a deeply engaging and rewarding read. Kingsolver takes the broad scaffolding of Dickens’s David Copperfield and relocates it to the modern American South, amidst the opioid crisis crafting a story that feels both recognisably Dickensian and unmistakably contemporary.

One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its writing, particularly the voice of its narrator. Demon’s first-person perspective is vivid, sharp, and emotionally immediate. The result is a voice that carries both humour and pain in equal measure. Through Demon’s eyes, we see a world shaped by poverty, addiction, and neglect, yet the story never sinks into despair. Kingsolver also excels at character work, with each person in the supporting cast each person shaped by their own circumstances and compromises. Equally striking is how the novel transforms Dickens’s nineteenth-century concerns into modern equivalents. The hardships of Victorian England become the crises of contemporary rural America, particularly the devastating reach of opioid addiction. 

That said, the book is not without its minor shortcomings. At times the plot follows the contours of David Copperfield closely enough that attentive readers may anticipate certain developments before they occur. This structural loyalty can reduce the sense of narrative surprise. The novel’s length may also feel slightly indulgent in places. These are small quibbles rather than major flaws, however.

Thinking back to James, I ultimately found Everett’s novel the more inventive of the two. By retelling The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from Jim’s perspective and introducing entirely new elements, Everett created a work that felt less like a reinterpretation and more like a bold reimagining. Demon Copperhead, in contrast, stays closer to its Dickensian blueprint. Yet this faithfulness does not diminish its achievement, and the strength of the storytelling easily earns the book a five-star rating.

Pros: Beautifully crafted narrative voice, rich characterisation, emotionally powerful themes of resilience and survival, and a thoughtful modern reworking of Dickens’s story.

Cons: Predictable moments for readers familiar with David Copperfield