Having fun with the conventions of the 19th-century novel: The Luminaries

Back to sort of weirdly enjoying Eleanor Catton's The Luminaries - mostly for her extreme intelligence as a writers. She is so thoughtful and attentive as she sketches in and develops a portrait of a new character - I was just introduced to the Jewish newspaper owner in the tiny NZ 19th-century gold rush town, and so imaginative as she creates a new scene - visiting a remote town halfway between the coastal "city" and the fields where the diggers pan for gold - in other words the writing is so strong, and so evocative of the 19th century, and she's so cleverly witty as she distances herself every so slightly from the material - remarking well into the 350 page account supposedly told in one evening as the newcomer to the town learns of the mysterious double murder that the men telling the tale had suddenly become a bit restless - reminding us of the narrative frame - she's obviously having a lot of fun playing with the 19th-century conventions of narrative, gently mocking while paying tribute to the long narratives of the Conrad novellas and others - and my only wish is that the plot itself were not so comically inscrutable. I am sure now that the density of the plot is part of the fun she's having with her readers - we can't really be expected to follow this, can we? - but I'd feel a little more assured and a little more likely to make it to page 830 if I cared about the characters and if I understood the mystery taking place in this small city; I don't understand it at all, don't want to make the intellectual investment of trying to keep each character and plot strand clear in my mind, nor do I particularly care about the characters (nor am I meant to), as she introduces them serially rather than cumulatively.