Trust by Hernan Diaz Summary

Trust explores wealth, power, and truth through four conflicting narratives: a novel, an autobiography, a memoir, and a diary. Set in 1920s New York, it dissects financier Andrew Bevel’s rise and his wife Mildred’s enigmatic life, questioning whose version of reality—and legacy—can be trusted. The Pulitzer Prize-winning metafictional structure reveals how money and storytelling shape identity.

Fans of literary fiction and layered narratives will appreciate Trust. Ideal for readers interested in financial history, unreliable narrators, and postmodern storytelling. Its themes of power, gender dynamics, and the subjectivity of truth resonate with those drawn to cerebral, structurally innovative novels like The Secret History or Cloud Atlas.

Yes. Trust is a critically acclaimed, award-winning novel praised for its bold structure and sharp critique of capitalism. While the first section’s slow pace may challenge some, the intertwining narratives build into a gripping meditation on truth and myth-making. Recommended for readers seeking intellectual depth and stylistic ambition.

Key themes include the fragility of truth, the corrupting influence of wealth, and the silencing of women’s voices. Diaz examines how narratives are weaponized to control legacies, particularly through Mildred’s erased contributions to Bevel’s financial empire. The novel also critiques capitalism’s role in distorting reality.

The four-part structure—a novel, autobiography, memoir, and diary—reveals contradictions in each account. This layered approach mimics how history is constructed, forcing readers to piece together truths from biased sources. The shifting perspectives highlight power imbalances in storytelling, particularly between men and women.

Mildred symbolizes marginalized voices in patriarchal systems. Her diary (the final section) unveils her intellectual partnership in Bevel’s success, contrasting earlier accounts that paint her as mentally ill or irrelevant. Diaz uses her absence in official narratives to critique gendered erasure in history and finance.

The novel frames money as a “fictional” force requiring collective belief to function. Bevel’s market manipulations and Mildred’s philanthropic guilt illustrate capitalism’s moral ambiguities. Diaz parallels financial speculation with storytelling, showing how both rely on manufactured trust to sustain power.

Some readers find the first section overly slow or dry, with excessive exposition about finance. Others note the metafictional format risks alienating those preferring linear plots. However, most praise the latter sections’ emotional depth and the novel’s ambition in deconstructing historical narratives.

Unlike Diaz’s debut In the Distance (a Western odyssey), Trust focuses on structural experimentation and economic critique. Both novels, however, explore isolation and the myths surrounding American ambition. Trust’s tighter pacing and thematic complexity mark his evolution as a storyteller.

Its themes of misinformation, wealth inequality, and gender bias mirror modern concerns. The novel’s interrogation of “alternative facts” and corporate greed resonates in an era of financial crises and algorithmic market manipulation, offering a lens to examine who controls societal narratives.

Financial instruments like bonds and trusts symbolize fragile human agreements. Bevel’s name evokes both monetary value (“beveled” edges of coins) and moral ambiguity. Mildred’s Swiss sanitarium treatments mirror capitalism’s exploitation of vulnerability, reframing mental health as a site of control.

As of 2025, no adaptations have been announced. However, the novel’s cinematic shifts in perspective and Gatsby-esque setting make it ripe for limited-series treatment. Its focus on conflicting narratives could suit directors like David Fincher or screenwriter Aaron Sorkin.