Graham Greene has been my go-to example of quality irony, particularly in The Tenth Man. I now place him as second to Fowles's The Collector.

Was this ever a whirlwind. I refute strongly the categorization of slow-paced.

This is an intertextual narrative that elevates and subverts allusions - allusions which, perhaps, rather act as illusions. Like a mirror, we see character roles and expectations reflected in reverse... down to even how Ferdinand/ Caliban/ Frederick/ Clegg narrates and how Miranda records that famous line:

"'We've been naked in front of each other,' she said. 'We can't be further apart.'" (P. 108)

"The last thing I said was - We can't be further apart.  We've been naked in front of each other." (P. 261)

Let's just leave the irony of the actual context and scene, as there's so much more to say. 

I fully understand this is a thriller, a captivity story, but there are scenes where Miranda's commentary is LAUGH. OUT. LOUD. This book was written in the 60's, so one thinks about the sociopolitical context with regard to feminism, as well as the fact that The Magus was being written around the same time. So there's likely more to consider from this lens, but I depart.

I was fascinated at how speech is recorded in Ferdinand/ Caliban's sections (he is unquoted, she is), versus Miranda's diary (the scriptwork). And how Miranda at one point goes, "I felt unreal, as if it was a play and I couldn't remember I was in it" (p. 157)

Also don't forget she calls him Ferdinand by the end. How HE gave himself that pseudonym. How she apparently calls him Caliban, but unless I missed it, you don't get that in his narrative.

And yet, the reference to Bernard Shaw - HE IS HIGGINS!!!

And WHO is Caliban, really? Yes, it is Ferdinand/ Caliban/ Clegg/ Frederick's home. And Miranda invades it like Prospero (and by virtue his daughter) take over. Sure. Caliban is manipulated, essentially. We think prospero is the good guy till caliban talks about his other people, and how he showed them and taught them about the land (need to reread Tempest for citation). But LOOK what happens to Miranda by the end. Remember one of her last lines: "words are useless" (p. 278). 

This isn't even GETTING to the main symbolism and other irony. The collection of dead butterflies. The erotic photographs. The inability to do the sex (yes, I'm calling it that). The G.P. (George... what?)/ General Practitioner. How Miranda apparently doesn't know Jung, but then later writes, "I psycho-analyzed him this evening" (p. 201). The line, "I don't trust him. He's bought this house. If he let's me go he'll have to trust me" (p. 180). 

SO MUCH HERE.

Fowles drafted The Collector in just a month. I highly encourage your first read to be in a single sitting. Worth it.