We also quickly get a sense of his confidence, obtuseness and whiff of arrogance.

This book’s first line, from the narrator, Toby Hennessy, might as well be written in neon: “I’ve always considered myself to be, basically, a lucky person.” So we know bad luck lurks in Toby’s future. The men’s barroom banter in the opening scene of “The Witch Elm” echoes similar talk in French’s heretofore finest novel, “Faithful Place,” though this group of conversationalists is more upscale. She is not a crime writer per se her books just happen to involve deaths and detectives, whose talk and jockeying and gamesmanship she captures perfectly. She is in a class by herself as a superb psychological novelist for whom plot is secondary. The wych elm has a notoriety that must have given French a kernel of plot inspiration. The tree is technically a wych elm, but don’t look that up. It anchors a garden so lush that as you sink into this book, you can practically feel tendrils twisting around you. Stately, 200 years old and burned into the collective memory of the Hennessys, this tree embodies the family’s idea of stability. The title tree in “The Witch Elm,” the Irish writer Tana French’s best and most intricately nuanced novel yet, is a mysterious character in its own right.

The witch elm