Der Literaturkritiker Denis Scheck hat dieses Buch empfohlen (“Auf nur 160 Seiten entfaltet die Autorin Monika Helfer eine beeindruckende und gehaltvolle Geschichte über Familienstrukturen und Beziehungen.”) und sein Wort hat für mich Gewicht.
Wie so oft, wenn’s dem Esel zu wohl wird, naja, Ihr wißt schon… Das Problem dieses kurzen Büchleins ist, daß es die einerseits sehr persönlich erzählte Familiengeschichte der Autorin ist.
Helfer beantwortet darin sich und uns die Frage “Woher komme ich?”. Das deutet aber auch bereits mein erstes Problem an: Diese Frage habe ich mir in bezug auf die Autorin nie gestellt. Ihre persönliche Antwort läßt mich daher weitgehend kalt.
Parallel kommt hinzu, daß es – zumindest meinen Lese-Erfahrungen zufolge – kein seltenes Schicksal ist: Familie auf dem Dorf am Ende der Welt vor gut 100 Jahren – zur Zeit des Ersten Weltkrieges. Die Frau, Helfers Großmutter Maria, ist nicht landläufig (sic) “normal” und wird daher samt ihrer Familie der ganzen denkbaren Boshaftigkeit einer dörflichen “Gemeinschaft” ausgesetzt – widerlich, aber hinlänglich bekannt.
Noch schwieriger wird es, wenn eine ohnehin schon nicht besonders spannende Geschichte mühselig zu lesen. Ein Beispiel; das folgende ist nämlich ein einziger Satz:
“Tag und Nacht zog das Pferd den Schneepflug über die Wege und schaufelten die alten Männer, die man im Krieg nicht brauchen konnte, die Schellen am Zaumzeug waren Tag und Nacht zu hören, und einmal — alle waren schon in der Kirche, aus den Mündern dampfte es, aus dem Weihrauchfass in Walters Händen dampfte es, seit Neuestem war er Ministrant, weinend hatte er gebettelt, Ministrant sein zu dürfen, auf die Knie war er vor Maria gegangen, wie es der Pfarrer den Schülern beigebracht hatte, in ihren besten Kleidern waren alle in der Kirche, Frauen und Mädchen links, die Männer und die Buben rechts —, da öffnete sich der Haarknoten an Marias Hinterkopf, sie nahm das Schultertuch ab und versuchte, die Haare neu aufzustecken.”
Das sind, falls ich richtig gezählt habe, 123 Worte (!) in einem Satz, der letztlich aussagt, daß Marias Haarknoten sich gelöst und sie versucht hat, diesen wieder herzurichten. Alles andere ist “Beiwerk”.
Dergestalt lesen sich leider weite Teile des autobiographischen Romans, auf dessen Lektüre ich gut und gerne hätte verzichten können.
Dennoch: “Die Bagage” ist kein schlechtes Buch. Nur einfach kein originelles Buch und allenfalls nehme ich mit vollem Einverständnis und Genugtuung folgende Erkenntnis über Pfarrer mit:
“Er war derselben Meinung wie sein Vater, dass so einer eine überflüssige Existenz sei, ein Nichtsnutz.”
Oh, well, this will be a difficult review to write, I guess. I really like this series and its ideas, its wonderful characters, the brilliant writing, etc. etc.
Along came “Cibola Burn”: We find ourselves accompanying Holden and his crew through one of the rings into the great unknown – into which a band of settlers from Ganymede made it before him and pretty much started colonising the planet, Ilus, there.
Unfortunately for those pioneers, the UN has awarded the “Royal Charter Energy” (RCE), a big Earth corporation, the rights to the afore-mentioned planet – which they refer to as “New Terra”. When RCE tries to get a shuttle down to the planet, it gets blown up by the settlers.
Holden is sent to Ilus/New Terra to mediate between the settlers and the RCE guys, only to get caught between both of them.
This leads us into a long story about the conflict between the settlers and the RCE people, the “awakening” of the stuff the protomolecule’s creators left on the planet, a catastrophic disaster, Miller investigating and, again, leading Holden around. There’s sabotage in space and on the planet, a one-dimensional villain whom Amos would have shot on the spot in the previous books and a scientist whom Corey makes fall for Holden – right until she gets laid by someone else and finds out that guy’s the real love of her life… Not to mention episodes about “death slugs”, eye-infecting parasites and lots of other “filling materials”.
All this just plain made this entire book way too long for its own good. While there was still a lot of suspense, long stretches of describing the atmosphere on the planet after a disaster kept boring me.
Last but not least, apart from Holden himself, the entire crew of the Rocinante was somehow not themselves – Alex felt mostly absent, Amos was weirdly subdued, almost completely submissive to Holden and Naomi spends weeks in a brig which we get to witness for far too long.
I’m going to take a break from “The Expanse” in favour of another book or two.
Einer meiner Lieblingsschriftsteller ist von Beruf Schauspieler. Nach vier großartigen, teils autobiographischen, Romanen bedarf Joachim Meyerhoff keiner großen Vorstellung mehr. Wenn also Meyerhoff ein neues Buch geschrieben hat, dann muß bei mir literarisch alles andere hintanstehen. Das ist nichts Neues.
Neu für mich persönlich ist allerdings, daß ich dieses Buch als Rezensionsexemplar über NetGalley.de vom Verlag, Kiepenheuer & Witsch, erhielt. Dafür meinen ganz herzlichen Dank an Kiepenheuer & Witsch und NetGalley.
Wie schon in den vier vorherigen Bänden von “Alle Toten fliegen hoch” erzählt Meyerhoff auch hier intelligent und mit viel Humor aus seinem Leben – obschon der Auslöser diesmal ein durchlittener Schlaganfall kurz nach dem 51. Geburtstag war.
Aber nicht nur der Schlaganfall und der daraus resultierende Krankenhausaufenthalt wird thematisiert, sondern – und das sind meines Erachtens auch die erzählerischen Höhepunkte – auch (in der Erinnerung verschüttete) Erlebnisse aus Meyerhoffs Leben, an die er sich (meist) gern erinnert und uns, seinen Lesern, davon erzählt.
“War die Katastrophe im Gehirn vielleicht mit einem »Best of Verschüttet« zu beheben?”
Auch sprachlich ist der “Hamster” wiederum ein Genuß – wenige deutschsprachige Autoren unserer Zeit verstehen es so wie Meyerhoff, einerseits mit sprachlichen Bildern zu spielen und wunderbare Wortschöpfungen zu kreieren wie im nachfolgenden Beispiel:
“Die drohende Ohnmacht tanzte um mich herum, war mal vor mir, mal hinter mir, umkreiste meine Stirn und schoss mir im Sturzflug mit zusammengefalteten Schwindelschwingen in die Magengrube.”
Ein herrliches Bild einer bedrohlichen und erschreckenden Situation – das ist für mich wirkliche Sprachkunst. Sprachkunst aber, die nicht künstlich anmutet, die nicht Überlegenheit demonstrieren oder das Bildungsbürgertum feiern will, sondern eine, die mir und meinem Empfinden nahe ist.
Deutschland gilt als das “Land der Dichter und Denker”: Ein manchmal schweres Erbe. Schwer für Autoren, weil sie damit grossen Ansprüchen ausgesetzt werden. Aber auch für uns Leser, die wir von der Schulzeit an mit “Klassikern” traktiert und mit literarisch “schwerer Kost” gefüttert werden, bis wir entweder die Lust am Lesen verlieren oder aber glauben, Literatur müsse “schwer” sein, um lesenswert zu sein. Meyerhoff setzt dem mit intelligenter Leichtigkeit, dabei nur ganz selten ins Seichte abdriftend (und selbst dann unterhaltsam!), daß es auch anders geht. Er schreibt elegant und schön, ohne dabei zu überfordern. Ja, den manchmal bemängelten Pipi-Kaka-Humor gibt es, aber er ist nur Mittel zum Zweck, nicht Zweck der Übung. Das relativiert ihn und läßt ihn als Stilmittel Wirkung entfalten, (meist) ohne albern zu wirken.
Dieses Verdienst darf man nicht gering schätzen, denn so mag der eine oder andere, dem die Schule die Bücher verleidet hat, zurückfinden zum Buch als m. E. bedeutendstes Kulturmedium.
Für mich fühlt sich Meyerhoff durch seine Erzählungen wahnsinnig vertraut an; viele Merkwürdigkeiten, z. B. die Sehnsucht das eigene Leben (zumindest temporär!) mit demjenigen des norwegischen Bauern zu tauschen oder Buffet-Manieren (oder den Mangel an letzteren!), teilen wir.
Kleine Fehler trüben jedoch das Gesamtbild: Einerseits sind dies ganz “harmlose” faktische Punkte, wie z. B. folgendes:
“Morgen würde in Hamburg die CSU einen neuen Parteivorsitzenden wählen. Zur Wahl standen Friedrich Merz, Jens Spahn und Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer”
Zum einen würde die CSU niemals in Hamburg irgendjemanden wählen, zum anderen sicherlich nicht die Politiker der Schwesterpartei CDU, die das tatsächlich getan hat.
Außerdem ziehen sich die Krankenhaus-Passagen dann leider doch etwas, denn die Mit-Patienten bleiben bestenfalls schemenhaft und die Nächte, die Meyerhoff reflektierend verbringt, in der Sorge, etwaige Nachlässigkeit könnte zum nächsten Schlaganfall führen, sind demgegenüber einfach viel interessanter.
“Hamster im hinteren Stromgebiet” zeigt uns einen unendlich sympathischen Joachim Meyerhoff, der erwachsen geworden ist. Wir haben ihm dabei staunend, lachend, mal bewundernd und mal bemitleidend zugesehen, aber in jedem Fall war es ein Vergnügen.
Der weitgehende Stillstand in diesem Buch schmälert dieses Vergnügen ein wenig, aber dennoch ist dieser vorläufige (?) Abschluß der Reihe sehr lesenswert, auch wenn er nicht ganz an die Qualität seiner Vorgänger heranreicht.
– I do not like science fiction literature. – I do not like soap operas (so why would I like a “Space Opera”?) – I do not like author’s killing off their heroes (GRRM, I’m looking at you!)
What I came to realise, though, is that James S.A. Corey has extremely interesting stories to tell and the means to seemingly effortlessly tell them in a way that keeps me coming back for more.
As in its predecessors, in “Abaddon’s Gate” the alien protomolecule plays a major role and, of course, Holden, Naomi, Alex and Amos are with us again, too. In addition, we get to meet new people like Bull, an OPA operative, Anna, a preacher, and yet another member of the Mao clan.
As has been Corey’s forte before, every single character feels believable; like a living, breathing person. All of them change and develop which is something I value very, very highly in a book if it’s intrinsically plausible.
Corey is not only masterfully presenting his story and characters but has an impeccable feeling for pacing: Often we’re breathlessly following the rapid developments and at other times we get the time to savour the story, the characters – the entire range of human emotions which few authors can stimulate as brilliantly as Corey does.
“Abaddon’s Gate” is not entirely easy to love, though: It’s, again, pretty dark in tone and setting. There are hopeful “undercurrents” during the entire book, though, that kept me from falling into depression – even when a minor yet very wonderful character dies.
As if all that wasn’t yet enough to make this book a pretty much instant favourite of mine, there are major human topics that get addressed in a very decent and remarkably unobtrusive way: From complex and, oftentimes, difficult subjects like forgiveness and redemption to somewhat easier ones like our insatiable curiosity (which tends to kill the proverbial cat…) and many others.
Just like the books before it, “Abaddon’s Gate” is to quote myself “challenging, long, complex and dark but of an overall quality that makes it feel like it pretty much plays in its own league.”
This was a tricky one for me… I have tried reading science fiction before and (usually) didn’t like it. It was all too often dark, gritty and bleak, set in a dystopian universe in which pretty much everyone acts completely self-absorbed. Thus, I disavowed science fiction in books because I’m a closet optimist: I’ve subscribed early on to the philosophy, the idealism and optimistic view of the future as imagined in “Star Trek: The Next Generation”.
“Leviathan Wakes” is (mostly) the former kind of sci-fi: We witness a beginning war between several factions (Earth, Mars, the Belt), we see “vomit zombies” and, in general, some parts of this book were so gruesome and almost depressing that I considered to give up on it entirely.
I understand the grit and grime to be essential explanations of the condicio humana, the human condition, as it is in the fictional universe of “Leviathan Wakes” but I don’t want or need them. I need to believe I can improve my world a little bit for as long as I’m here at least.
There’s a general grittiness to the entire setting that is far from what I prefer in sci-fi. In addition, I’m not really a fan of the “noir” genre by which “Leviathan Wakes” obviously was inspired by as well.
The story is great, though: Due to acts of brutality in order to instigate a war, we meet Miller, a down-trodden cop, and Holden, first an officer on a ship that becomes a victim of the afore-mentioned provocations, later on serving as captain of his own ship. Whereas Miller is disillusioned by his work, the general state of the world and life as such, Holden is an incurable idealist. Holden unwaveringly tries to do everyone justice and wants to be a force of good in his world and acts accordingly.
“One bad mistake on either side and both planets might be radioactive rubble by the end of dinner. But right now they were just friends having a meal together. It was right. It was what Holden had to keep fighting for.”
Together (albeit not always voluntarily), Holden and Miller try to unravel the mystery of cloaked ships and their attacks, the intentions of an aggressive alien protomolecule and, ultimately, to save humanity as a whole. As can be derived from these broad topics, “Leviathan Wakes” features a long, complex story that plays out over many months.
The narrated point of view switches between those of Holden and Miller respectively which is, especially at the beginning of the book, somewhat tiresome because until they finally meet (after about one third of the book!), both their storylines don’t obviously overlap and it’s sometimes hard to get back into the reading flow. Once the storylines merge, though, the switches turn from nuisance to elegant pleasure.
At times, I was basically fighting my way through this book because I felt a complete absence of hope for the situation and our heroes whom I found extremely convincing and relatable. Each and every character was masterfully created – even those on the sidelines – and the developments among them felt so real and plausible that I just couldn’t bring myself to give up.
Plus: Right after a major turning point (Eros Station…) a tiny spark of hope appeared. This, too, was brilliantly orchestrated by Corey and helped me get over the reading-induced blues I was feeling. Holden’s idealism, the antithesis to Miller’s abjectedness, to what Miller calls his “death-self”, also helped a lot to get me through this book. This area of conflict between both men was at times almost painful and stressful to witness but so fascinatingly written that I found it entirely, almost overwhelmingly so, believable and plausible.
The great writing, the suspense (sometimes hardly endurable!), the interesting setting and the richness of the universe in which I even liked someone aptly nicknamed “the Butcher of Anderson Station” – they all made this book an unforgettable experience.
Ultimately, “Leviathan Wakes” is challenging, long, complex and dark but of an overall quality that makes it feel like it pretty much plays in its own league.
If you’re even slightly into science fiction and can make it past what happens on Eros Station, give “Leviathan Wakes” a try. Highly recommended – especially considering the amazing ending!
I have no idea how this book actually made it onto my to-read list. Anyway, it was a quick and sufficiently satisfying read.
It’s a rather simple mystery with an interesting premise: A ranger, our local hero Philip, finds the mangled corpse of a young local woman. Together with the new sheriff, Lane, he tries to find out what happened.
This is a topic we’ve often read about before but this time, it happens on “Rockfish Island”, a backwater island. We get to know quite a few of the locals – many of them Philip’s friends – and try to sleuth our way to the culprit.
“Black Bear Alibi” features some humour, interesting, relatable characters and a decent albeit unspectacular story. The twist at the end was as foreseeable as forgivable.
Annoying were the numerous grammatical and orthographic mistakes that adorned this book and made me think it might have been self-published without the help of editors and proof-readers. Even more gratingly, Fuller doesn’t always get there’s a difference between online messaging and books and, consequently, she tries to convey meaning by misspelling words, e. g. “obbbbjjjjectivvvve” or “alllll”. This is just plain horrible.
I came to this book immediately after having read Sager’s “Home Before Dark” which I devoured breathlessly. Sadly, “Lock Every Door” didn’t live up to my expectations.
It starts out interesting enough: Jules, 25, has lost her parents some years ago, now she has just lost her job and left her boyfriend because he cheated. While she tries to put her life back together, she sleeps on a friend’s couch. This is when she gets a job as an apartment sitter in the “Bartholomew”, a posh apartment building in New York City. Apart from a few weird rules (“no visitors at all”, “every night must be spent at the apartment”) everything seems fine until Jules meets another, rather peculiar, apartment sitter who then proceeds to disappear…
The setting is perfect, the ideas are good but this is a book of missed opportunities because the characters and the building itself are fairly interesting but Sager doesn’t really use that: The apartment sitter who vanishes, Ingrid? Jules just met her three times and immediately believes pretty much everything Ingrid tells her. Nick, the nice and hot surgeon next door? He’s potentially an interesting character but he doesn’t get enough focus by far. Or the residents, or Charlie, the doorman – they all remain flat and shallow. Whereas I’d have liked to get to know them a bit, they’re treated as accessories.
The building features gargoyles – what a chance for an author to evoke even more of a Gothic atmosphere but Sager misses that opportunity as well. Jules even names the gargoyle next to her bedroom “George” but apart from a dream or two, he just sits there on his ledge.
While “Lock Every Door” is still a page turner, it never reaches the quality of “The Last Time I Lied” or “Home Before Dark”. Building up suspense and a latent atmosphere of threat – which I expect from a good thriller – takes time but everything in this book feels rushed. We hardly met Ingrid and gone she is. Dylan, another apartment sitter? Gone before he could take shape. The aging one-hit-wonder author? We hear a bit about her but then she’s (mostly) whisked away.
And then there’s the ending… The mystery behind what happens in the Batholomew is outlandish, absurd and unbelievable. It feels rushed as well – just as if Sager felt he was running out of ideas and had to come to a conclusion. Any conclusion.
No, this, sadly, was very disappointing compared to Riley Sager’s other works and, thus, I can only award a still-generous three stars.
“Home Before Dark” tells the story of the Holt family who moved into a house that “remembers” – and it hasn’t seen much love… In fact, it came cheap because Baneberry Hall is a veritable haunted house. Or is it not? Our hero is Maggie Holt, the daughter, who doesn’t remember much (almost nothing, actually) about the house and their short time in it. After her father Ewan’s death, Maggie inherits the huge house and decides to renovate and sell it; after all, she’s an interior designer and has her own company. There’s more to it, though…
““I have a confession to make,” I eventually say. “Let me guess,” Dane says, deadpan. “Your real name is Windy.” “Close. I didn’t come back just to renovate Baneberry Hall. My real reason for returning is to try to figure out why we left this place the way we did.” “You think there’s more to the story?” “I know there is.” I tell him everything.”
Sager’s narrative switches between passages from “the Book” that Ewan Holt, Maggie’s father, wrote about his family’s short stint at Baneberry Hall 25 years ago and Maggie’s own musings here and now. Often, both timelines feature similar events or mingle with each other which makes things even more interesting.
For me, this novel worked on several levels: The “haunted house” angle has always fascinated me and appeals to my taste for the mysterious. Getting the story told from both the past and the present alternatingly, made for a rare and almost artistic balance that supported the atmosphere because we feel there’s something off but we cannot put our finger on what it is exactly.
“I hold the page close to my face, as if that will help me better make sense of it. I’m still staring at those emphatic question marks when I hear a noise. A creak. Coming from the room next door. The Indigo Room.”
I’m not superstitious, I don’t believe in anything “supernatural”. I do love a good ghost story, though, and this is an excellent one which I didn’t want to put down. There were several key scenes that made me think I had figured it out but the solution in the end was as simple as ingenious – and, of course, I’m not going to spoil it for you. I didn’t see it coming and when I thought about a few seemingly loose threads, I quickly realised I had been doubly fooled!
It’s still not a perfect mystery: Maggie, as likeable as she is, remains largely flat and doesn’t really change or grow much over the course of the action. A few minor characters, e. g. the friendly neighbourhood ex-con, Dane, were a bit cliche and could easily have been improved upon had they gotten a little more time in the limelight (same goes for most secondary characters).
Nevertheless, this was a very satisfying read that prompted me to immediately start on Sager’s “Lock Every Door” and if you, like me, enjoy a good story, a haunted house and chasing shadows (or something more sinister?) – go for this book because…
“Every house has a story to tell and a secret to share.”
Here we go again… Yet another Harry Dresden and yet it’s both more of the same as well as different.
The first nine books were all mediocre to me – three stars because I felt generous – and ridiculously stupid for reading nine ok’ish books in a row till the Stockholm Syndrome set fully in with book 10.
So, we’re at number 16 (!) now and most series have become bland, boring and/or been warped beyond recognition (cf. George’sLynley!). In fact, it’s somewhat similar with respect to the “beyond recognition” part:
Harry Dresden, who used to be a “a male chauvinist pig; […] a misogynist arse” by my own words, has turned into a mostly-decent human being. A very long-lived human being (think centuries!) and a wizard to boot.
“It’s not about who they are,” I said quietly. “It’s about who I am. And the example I’m setting.”
Maybe it’s all me who enjoys a Dresden who – in the midst of a pitched battle – thinks that “Sometimes the best defense is a T. rex”. Comic relief, hilarity ensuing while the forces of the unlikely good and the most-definitely evil battle it out. That too is Harry Dresden.
Or maybe it’s Butcher who – by now in his mid-forties – still looks like an irredeemable nerd but has grown together with his wizard hero into something that not only other nerds can respect.
How could I not love someone who explains “home” like this:
“But there’s a deeper meaning to home. Something simpler, more primal. It’s where you eat the best food because other predators can’t take it from you very easily there. It’s where you and your mate are the most intimate. It’s where you raise your children, safe against a world that can do horrible things to them. It’s where you sleep, safe. It’s where you relax. It’s where you dream. Home is where you embrace the present and plan the future. It’s where the books are. And more than anything else, it’s where you build that world that you want.”
Apart from all that, my four stars are still generous because this book feels like Butcher tried (successfully!) to become reacquainted with his characters himself – they’re all there: Murphy, Molly, Mouse, Maggie, Michael, Lara, Thomas – pretty much everyone makes a (more or less) short cameo appearance.
Don’t get me wrong: You’ll feel right at home with this book if you like Dresden. It’s just that “Peace Talks” feels a lot like a transitional book; at its end, nothing is resolved. It’s not a horrible cliffhanger either. It’s just that once you’ve read the final sentence, you’ll realise you’d have been ready for the main action. Which is likely what’s coming up in “Battle Ground”. While it’s not a huge deal, it’s sad that we have to wait yet another few months.
Even worse, though: Having everyone meet Harry again – who is sorting out his legacy anyway already – is a bit like having his life pass by… It feels slightly as if Butcher is working up courage for Harry’s endgame. That, too, could just be me again.
Either way, this book most likely won’t sway you in either direction: If you liked Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden before, this book won’t change that. It might, in fact, inspire more sympathy for Harry.
On the other hand, if you don’t like Harry (yet), you won’t be convinced by reading this book. It doesn’t lend itself to be a starting point for the series either – you’ll hardly know who’s who and why they are as they are, as “Peace Talks” is about how all the Houses, factions and monsters we all know come together to make peace – or shoot to kill?
Secondly, “Peace Talks” is probably some slight nod to us, the readers, who (mostly) held our peace for those six long years after its glorious predecessor, “Skin Game”, was published.
I have high hopes for Dresden, Butcher and, most of all, “Battle Ground”. I just hope that won’t be Harry’s last dance…
“Promise me you’ll fight smart,” I said. She bumped her head against my arm and said, “How would you know if I did?”
Wow, this was such an annoying read! Chloe Sophia Brown comes across as a pampered, snobby whiny, weak damsel in distress who needs rescuing.
From this outset, I already didn’t like her.
Someone who describes herself like this…
“This mind-blowing bore had zero friends, hadn’t traveled in a decade despite plenty of opportunity, liked to code on the weekends, and never did anything that wasn’t scheduled in her planner. Don’t cry for her; she’s in a better place now. Even Heaven can’t be that dull.”
… is simply someone who is wallowing in her own shitty quality of life.
Chloe thinks, feels and behaves like a victim of her fibromyalgia (chronic pain, pressure sensitivity, tiredness, sleep problems, etc.) and Hibbert never ceases to emphasize how horribly suffering her heroine is.
Not only from her illness but from being abandoned by her ex-fiancé, every single friend she ever had (we ask ourselves: what kind of “friends” were those?), her family (apart from her sisters) and who knows whom else. In addition to being ill, Chloe is overweight and black.
At times, I’ve wondered how Hibbert managed to not make her an amputee as well or clinically depressed or maybe blind… Yes, sorry, I’m being sarcastic because Chloe was so annoying.
Then there’s her “love interest”, Redford “Red” Morgan, whose previous relationship was with some kind of glamour girl who oh-so-horribly abused the poor guy: She hated his motorcycle but used it for glamour photos. Wow! What abuse… Furthermore, she is described as somewhat bitchy. It was all so horrible that poor Red (who is, of course, a ginger!) fled London and, gasp, changed and tried something new! What tragic development!
Apart from that he’s an uneducated moron who doesn’t know the word “indisposed” and reacts to it like this:
“He was going to have to buy a bloody dictionary to keep up with her vocab, but he could read between the lines.”
Or he could take some English lessons and, thus, extend his two-hundred-words vocabulary. In addition said vocabulary seems to be dominated by the word “fucking”. It features prominently in every second sentence or thought of his. (Chloe has a similarly obsessive relationship with the word “pussy”…) I’m not averse to some swearing but does it have to be all the time?
“He watched her as closely as he could, which was pretty fucking close.” and next he decides to tell Chloe “You’re cute as fuck, you know that?” – why? Is there really a woman who would want to hear that? (I have no doubt there are enormous numbers of male morons who think so…)
And Chloe swoons at that…
Red, at times, is outright creepy, e. g. when he “[drinks] in every detail like some sexually deprived Victorian bloke”. Urks…
At other times, he’s more of an animal:
“She snorted, rolling her eyes, but he could tell she was pleased. It oozed out of her like jam from a layer cake, and he was lapping the sweetness up, desperate for more.”
Is he a dog?!
When it comes to creepy, Chloe isn’t exactly innocent either:
“This hunger was urging her to sneak inside his head and devour everything she came across. But that would be a little creepy, possibly violent, and probably illegal, so she settled for asking questions.”
“Possibly violent”? Devouring his brain? Thanks, but no thanks!
Last but not least, the book is full of what my children kindly informed me is called “fake-depth” or calendar mottos to me:
“Bliss should be held on to with both hands.” “Good things usually hurt in the end.”
Ultimately, this book failed miserably for me on many levels: For a mindless romance (which I expected) it’s too complicated; for a serious book, it’s too shallow and simple. In the end, to me this book was one of suffering – of Chloe’s and of mine reading this stuff…
That fear was completely unfounded as I loved this book as much as its predecessor. Maybe a little more even since Ng has improved upon both her writing style (which I already liked the first time!) and her story.
Again, we’re thrown right into the “end game” and work our way backwards into the past, learning how what happens in the end, is pretty much inevitable from the very beginning…
The most impressive, though, is Ng’s “cast”: Mia, the artsy photographer, whose mysterious past still haunts her and let’s her lead a nomadic lifestyle with her daughter Pearl. Mia is more of a silent observer, someone who watches and listens. Who won’t judge but offer a shoulder to cry on and an arm to support others.
““Do what it takes,” Pauline had said to her as she had hugged her good-bye.”
And Mia does it. Every single time.
Almost completely altruistic in her behaviour towards others (with her daughter Pearl a notable exception), Mia is the linchpin upon which the entire novel rests – and it works tremendously well.
“It turned out that despite their best intentions, her parents had prepared her exceptionally well for art school.”
Pearl herself is – as one might imagine – not exactly the typical teenager albeit her school life is difficult at times, boys become a very distinct interest, well, and lots of other common issues. Nevertheless, due to her constant moving with her mother, Pearl had to learn to become independent early on and she has become truly empathetic.
Finally, there are the Richardson’s: Mrs. Elena Richardson, the matriarch of the family whose primary agenda is “playing by the rules” and “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”. She thinks of herself as progressive and supportive of those who are worse off than she is. In truth, though, she tries to build up favours with anyone she meets and those who play by her rules are rewarded and those who dare say no to Mrs. Richardson are either “discarded” or even punished for their non-conformity.
Mr. Richardson is more or less an afterthought – he’s, of course, successful in his job and supports his wife out of misplaced loyalty and self-imposed pressure. He does what his wife expects him to do and any kind of small doubt is quickly suppressed by what he considers his duty.
The Richardson’s have four children: Moody, the slightly brutish guy who has a crush on Pearl but doesn’t dare approach her and who is both crushed and spiteful when Pearl cops off with his brother Trip.
Trip is the good-looking type who gets all the girls – and loses interest in them just as quickly as he picked them up. Just Pearl is special…
Lexie has it all figured out: Having known her boyfriend Brian for years, dating him for two, having “done the deed” with him recently, she already pictures her studies at Yale which accepted her, her triumphant return to her hometown as well as subsequent marriage, kids and a sheltered life in suburbia. Little does she know what awaits her only in the few months this book covers, much less of what’s certain and what’s not…
Last but not least among the siblings, there’s Izzy. The black sheep of the family. Isabelle Marie Richardson surely is a misfit in the Richardson family. She was born prematurely and due to the constant critical observation by her mother, has grown wary, sceptical and, paradoxically, to be free-spirited. She is one of the “crazy ones” in that glorious advertisement “Think Different” by Apple.
Technically, there are the McCulloughs, Bebe Chow, a Chinese immigrant, their/her daughter May Ling-Mirabelle and others but while they’re all interesting to read about, they have to take a back seat because the main cast needs all the room in this fine-spun, brilliantly-told narrative about freedom, loss and redemption.
There’s a lot to like even about the more antagonistic characters because Ng’s tremendous talent at painting soulful character portraits full of empathy and understanding – deservedly or not – that every single person feels “real”, right and believable.
Mia’s story, the battle for custody, all of that is heart-rending already but the way especially the child generation acts among each other and towards the adults, are what leaves you breathless and engaged. You may anticipate at some points what’s going to happen but that doesn’t matter at all because of the fabulous writing, the impeccable style and the sheer talent that “Little Fires Everywhere” exudes.
“Mia held her for a moment, buried her nose in the part of Pearl’s hair. Every time she did this, she was comforted by how Pearl smelled exactly the same. She smelled, Mia thought suddenly, of home, as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she’d carried alongside her.”
Ng is a force of nature when it comes to telling her stories: She starts slow and sometimes, things get slightly confusing but what started with a bang that should be hard to beat will slowly creep up on you, enclose you and finally sweep you away if you let it. It’s a literary landslide and, again, paradoxically, you want to be in it.
Or, to stay within the main motif of the book…
““Rules existed for a reason: if you followed them, you would succeed; if you didn’t, you might burn the world to the ground.””
… and, yes, that may be true but as Mia puts it so fittingly…
“Sometimes you need to scorch everything to the ground, and start over. After the burning the soil is richer, and new things can grow.”
Please, please, more of this, dear Celeste Ng, and, of course, you, yes, YOU, go and read this book!
“Lydia is dead.”, these three words mark the beginning of Lydia’s journey which we’re about to embark upon. These three words make you think it cannot possibly get worse. Right until it gets worse. A lot worse.
I can relate to this book on so many levels: First and foremost, I’m a father. I’m not prone to nightmares but there’s one that has haunted me countless times since my first child was born – losing a child. Fortunately, the nightmare didn’t become reality and I hope it stays that way.
This is what this book is (partly) about, though: Losing a child. The reasons, the family, the friends (or lack of); everything is believable and feels shockingly truthful. Painfully so, even.
Secondly, as the husband of a woman who made being independent a prerequisite for her moving in with me. A woman who spent the next 20 years lovingly caring for our children, as wise as Solomon, as strong as Hercules, as clever as Gandalf. A woman who then decided – quite unlike Marilyn – there was even more she wanted to do and moved on to get an apprenticeship in a field she loves and where she can apply her skills and learn new ones. She will have finished this apprenticeship before our own children finish theirs.
As we know, Lydia, 16, is dead. She was the daughter of Marilyn and James Lee and had two siblings – her older brother Nathan (“Nath”) and Hannah, her younger sister. “Everything I Never Told you” explores their pasts, their present and, in tiny glimpses, their futures. At the beginning, we find ourselves in 1977 but we’re going to take a ride through the decades that will likely forever be “before Lydia” to the family right to the point where past and present tragically converge. Unobtrusively and narrated with empathy and understanding, it tries to answer the one question every parent would ask: Why?
James is the son of Chinese immigrants. Born in the USA, he is American as he never ceases to tell himself. He knows he looks different compared to his caucasian compatriots and then as, unfortunately, today, this does matter. Thus, James always wants to blend in, tries not to stand out but to do what he feels he has to do. Like being the sole provider for his family and, without wanting to, destroying his wife’s dreams. He never quite manages to overcome his inhibitions due to him being different, though, and he projects his own wishes on his children.
Because Marilyn wanted to be a doctor. She excelled in her classes, she studied hard in pursuit of her life’s dream. All the while harassed by her own mother to instead meet a “nice Harvard man”, marry him and be a good wife and mother. Life happened, though, and instead of a doctor Marilyn became James’ wife and later on she came to the false conclusion “It was a sign, Marilyn decided. For her it was too late.”
Years later, she tries to start anew but fails to achieve her goals once more. She, too, just like James, reacts by putting pressure on her daughter Lydia to achieve Marilyn’s dreams. Lydia doesn’t have a childhood but a series of learning events, “extra credit assignments”, competitions. She doesn’t get to be bad at something or she’s met with even more “incentives” to work harder. Feeling deeply indebted to her mother, Lydia complies. She doesn’t quite know why because she doesn’t really want to do all this.
Nathan on the other hand knows exactly what he wants:
“That fall, when the guidance counselor had asked Nath about his career plans, he had whispered, as if telling her a dirty secret. “Space,” he’d said. “Outer space.” Mrs. Hendrich had clicked her pen twice, in-out, and he thought she was going to laugh. […] Instead Mrs. Hendrich told him there were two routes: become a pilot or become a scientist.”
Nathan wants to go to space and – similarly to his father – he does what he has to do. He tirelessly works towards his goal all the while understanding the tearing his parents do to Lydia:
“Do what everyone else is doing. That’s all you ever said to Lydia. Make friends. Fit in.”, Marilyn tells James and goes on to state that she “didn’t want her to be just like everyone else.” The rims of her eyes ignite. “I wanted her to be exceptional.””.
Nathan is Lydia’s cornerstone and anchor; the one person who truly understands her and who tries to alleviate her situation. When he, too, seemingly deserts her, Lydia feels put on a path that can only lead to one conclusion…
And, yet, whereas we, the readers, know what is to come from those first three words, Lydia herself finds a way to deal with all the pushing and pulling in opposite directions by her parents:
“If she fails physics, if she never becomes a doctor, it will be all right. She will tell her mother that. And she will tell her mother, too: it’s not too late. For anything. She will give her father back his necklace and his book. She will stop holding the silent phone to her ear; she will stop pretending to be someone she is not.”
Last but not least there’s Hannah, the youngest daughter and the one mostly overlooked by her parents. Even though she may not be able to express her fears and thoughts, she’s often spot-on with her observations and is very sensitive to the mood in her family. Whenever she gets any attention from her parents, she grows, only to wilt soon after in Lydia’s shadow.
Ultimately, “Everything I Never Told You” is about what all characters never told each other. It is about open and latent xenophobia in our society. It is about parents trying to model their children according to their, the parents, wishes instead of the children’s. Celeste Ng spins all this elegantly and seemingly effortlessly into a force of a nature of a novel that blew me away, reduced me to rubble and helped rebuild myself. Ng’s writing is beautiful and evocative:
“[Her hair] darkened from golden-wheat to amber. It kinked and curled like a fiddlehead fern. It amazed him that he could have such an effect on anyone. As she dozed in his arms, her hair slowly relaxed, and when she woke, it had stretched back to its usual waves.”
If it hadn’t been for the ending as it is, this book would already have been a solid four-star read. With the terrible and crushing conclusion that still allows for hope and redemption, though, “Everything I Never Told You” becomes an instant classic that everyone but especially parents should read – right after telling their children the one simple truth that can literally and metaphorically save lives:
“Hemmersmoor ist der Eingang zur Hölle.”, so endet der Klappentext und genau so ist mein Eindruck nach der Lektüre dieser Ansammlung von lose miteinander verwobenen Erzählungen über das fiktive Dorf Hemmersmoor und seine mehr als eigenartigen Bewohner.
Leider ist die hier heraufbeschworene “Hölle” jedoch eine literarische, denn im Grunde ist das, was Kiesbye sich hier ausgedacht hat, ein obszöner, widerlicher Morast der Gewalt-Pornographie. Ein Beispiel:
“Wir waren noch immer im Stimmbruch, als wir […], […] und […] vergewaltigten.”
Damit ist dann auch schon alles wesentliche zum Inhalt gesagt; alle Geschichten drehen sich um Aberglaube…
“Käthe Grimm war dem Blick eines heulenden Hundes gefolgt, als sie siebzehn Jahre alt war, und seitdem sah sie Irrlichter und schauerliche Trauerprozessionen nach Einbruch der Nacht und verfolgte die Hochzeiten der Untoten”
“Ich hatte mir meine Rache so lange ausgemalt, und ich hatte [ihn] nicht genug leiden sehen.”
… Brutalität und Grausamkeit.
Es fängt klein damit an, daß statt Blätter zwischen den Seiten schwerer Bücher zu trocken, diese “Methode an Eidechsen und Blindschleichen” erprobt wird und dabei vom Autor geradezu genußvoll die letzten Zuckungen der Tiere beschrieben werden.
Nun könnte man mir entgegenhalten, dies möge dem Zweck dienen, die Grausamkeit der Kinder darzustellen und quasi die Szenerie literarisch aufzustellen. Leider ist es jedoch so, daß derart viel Gewalt beschrieben wird, daß ein Abstumpfungseffekt unausweichlich ist – ab einem bestimmten Punkt ist auch der “Ekel-Faktor” einfach ausgereizt.
Auch wenn man über Menschen schreibt, die geradezu klischeehaft selbstsüchtig, egoistisch, eifersüchtig und rachsüchtig sind, gleichzeitig aber wehleidig und voller Selbstmitleid, so kann man dies doch auf eine zumindest spannende oder zumindest interessante Art und Weise tun. “Hemmersmoor” läßt jedoch auch dies schmerzlich vermissen – egal wie dramatisch die Erzählung ist, Kiesbye erzählt monoton, schleppend und manchmal geradezu einschläfernd langweilig vom Tun seiner Protagonisten; “erschreckend direkt” nennt das wiederum der Klappentext. Ich nenne es “erschreckend banal”.
Erschwerend hinzu kommt, daß es absolut keine Identifikationsfiguren in Hemmersmoor gibt – jede einzelne Figur wird auf ihre Weise schuldig an anderen. Mal gravierender, z. B. beim lapidar erzählten Baby-Mord oder Vergewaltigung, und manchmal dann etwas weniger, z. B. bei der an den Katzenschwanz gebundenen Dose.
Keine der Figuren dieses Buches zeigt auch nur ansatzweise Anteilnahme oder echte Empathie; man schämt sich vielleicht kurzfristig ein wenig, aber es dominiert das “Wegducken”, das Wegsehen und Weghören. Die Dorf”gemeinschaft” ist in Wahrheit ein völlig unrealistischer und absurder Pfuhl menschlichen Versagens.
Die eigene Schuld wird dabei in den Hintergrund geschoben und grob verharmlost:
“»Ich erwarte nicht, dass deine Eltern mich mit offenen Armen empfangen, aber was geschehen ist, war ein dummer Jungenstreich. Ich wollte deinen Bruder nicht umbringen.«”
Mißgunst, Schadenfreude und Neid regieren Hemmersmoor und es wird sich weidlich ergötzt am echter oder, wie im nachfolgenden Beispiel, falscher “Schande”:
“[Ihre] Schande, ein Kind unter ihrem Herzen zum Traualtar tragen zu müssen, brachte Leben in einen trostlosen, matschigen Februar.”
Merkwürdig ist auch, daß es keine Polizei oder andere Ordnungsmacht zu geben scheint; da wird eine ganz Familie öffentlich ermordet, ihr Haus niedergebrannt und ihre Leichen verscharrt und niemanden kümmert es. Ja, es ist wohl nur einige Jahre nach dem zweiten Weltkrieg, während dessen die Nationalsozialisten den millionenfachen Mord an Juden, Behinderten, Homosexuellen und vielen weiteren Gruppen begangen haben. Auch in diesen Fällen hat die Bevölkerung weitestgehend weggesehen, aber hier geht es um Menschen in der Mitte der Dorfgesellschaft. Selbst wenn man kritiklos die Abwesenheit jedweder Ordnungsmacht akzeptiert – in diesem Dorf wird jedes Geschehnis zum eigenen Vorteil genutzt, dieses aber nicht?
Das alles ist sehr schade, denn Kiesbye gelingen immer mal wieder Formulierungen, die mehr versprechen, als das Buch letztlich halten kann:
“Ich hatte mich im Jahr zuvor zur Ruhe gesetzt und seit Jahrzehnten nichts von meiner Familie gehört. Ich hatte sie an den Rand des Vergessens getrieben und dort gefangen gehalten, wie wilde Tiere.”
Dergleichen kreative und wirkungsstarke Bilder werden aber immer wieder durch platte Versuche, einen Schock-Effekt zu erzielen untergraben:
“Ricos Augen hatten mich fasziniert. Ich musste mir so ein Paar besorgen.”
“Hemmersmoor” ist eine vertane Chance, das Dorfleben gerade so zu verfremden, daß es tatsächlich spannend, erschreckend und, wenn es sein muß, auch brutal wirkt. In der vorliegenden Fassung jedoch ist es nur abstoßend, monoton und – über weite Strecken – einfach nur langweilig.
Mit Ausnahme einiger weniger gelungener sprachlicher Konstrukte weist “Hemmersmoor” auch keinerlei Eigenschaften auf, die diese Buch-gewordene Gewalt-Orgie rehabilitieren könnten.
Ich jedenfalls fühle mich nach dieser Lektüre beschmutzt und angeekelt wie schon seit langem nicht mehr.
This is a strange book. From what its protagonist, Christopher, says about himself, it sounds like he’s somewhere on the autism scale. Once confronted with criticism about how he portrays Christopher, the author, Haddon, (from now on: The Weasel) takes the easiest possible way out:
“2) curious incident is not a book about asperger’s. it’s a novel whose central character describes himself as ‘a mathematician with some behavioural difficulties’. indeed he never uses the words ‘asperger’s’ or ‘autism’ (i slightly regret that fact that the word ‘asperger’s’ was used on the cover). if anything it’s a novel about difference, about being an outsider, about seeing the world in a surprising and revealing way. it’s as much a novel about us as it is about christopher.”
“Asperger’s” is on the cover but it’s not what the book is about. Ooookaaayyy…
But, hey, at least to The Weasel, he has a good reason for this. From the same site:
“1) i know very little about the subject. i did no research for curious incident (other than photographing the interiors of swindon and paddington stations). […] imagination always trumps research.” (Emphasis by me!)
“imagination always trumps research” – so, yes, The Weasel just pulled something from his arse and put it on (e)paper.
There is a lot I could say about the demerits of this book but I’ll leave it to someone who actually seems to be an expert on the subject matter:
Recently, I watched the series “Band of Brothers” and was surprised by its quality. The often-used introductory statements of the former members of the 101st were very impressive and lent the series a lot of credibility.
After having watched the final episode, I decided I wanted to read Ambrose’s book that served as the source material. Little did I know what awaited me…
While the series provided me with a consistent, logical stream of events, the book simply adds anecdote after anecdote. There’s hardly any reflection on those anecdotes either and if Ambrose tries to add his analysis, it’s sadly lacking, simple-minded and features lots of “Hooray patriotism” that’s part of what actually caused the war he narrates about.
At times, Ambrose tries to actually support his point of view by citing other works – unfortunately, they’re mostly of similarly questionable quality as his own book. In other cases, Ambrose references books that were written in the immediate aftermath of the war and, thus, still strongly subjectively influenced.
I for one, though, prefer a proper history book on World War II and not a collection of anecdotes. Especially the strong hero worship Ambrose resorts to all too often…
“The coordination with British artillery was outstanding. So was Winters.”
… truly annoys me: From what I’ve read about Richard Winters beyond the praise Ambrose never ceases to sing, Winters must have been a great man and soldier. So let his deeds speak for himself, i. e. Wikipedia calmly tells us that “Winters agreed for the statue to bear his resemblance on the condition that the monument would be dedicated to all junior officers who served and died during the Normandy landings.” when they erected a statue at Utah Beach.
The series itself actually shows the war as it must have been – grim, bloody, horrible. Whenever the former soldiers get to talk about their experiences, they often get teary-eyed whereas Ambrose belittles what they got through by making it look easier than it could have been. And, in fact, Ambrose stoops so low that he compares the weapon fire to Fourth of July fireworks:
“War provides more meat to satisfy that lust than any other human activity. The fireworks displays are far longer lasting, and far more sensational, than the most elaborate Fourth of July display.”
Wow, just wow. Please excuse me for a moment while I vomit.
Sometimes, Ambrose tries to get in some German quotes into his narrative. Unfortunately, these parts obviously got very little attention by him or his editors:
“Hinkle, Hinkle, ist das du“
To me, a German, this reads like a verbatim translation of “is that you?” whereas proper German would be “bist Du das?”. It’s a small issue but it’s just as annoying as the military abbreviations Ambrose liberally uses. Yes, after a few uses I can imagine “CP” stands for Command Post”, “OP” for “Outpost” or “ETO” for “European Theatre of Operations” but till I figured it out, it was confusing for no good reason.
And while Ambrose obviously is a fan of “Ike” Eisenhower, he’s not good enough to avoid belittling other famous commanders like Montgomery:
“Ike needed the 101st and 82d in the line. It was a question of timing. Eisenhower wanted to attack even before New Year’s Eve, but Monty, commanding the forces (all American) on the northern shoulder of the Bulge, stalled and shivered and made excuses, so it did not happen.”
A little xenophobia bordering on racism (another cause for the war) isn’t something Ambrose is much concerned with either:
“Had Reese been a Soviet, German, or Japanese soldier, this little nonincident probably would have turned out differently.”
(The “non-incident” he’s talking about is severe, continued sexual harassment of civilians, by the way.)
War crimes are talked about but there’s no criticism at all:
““You shoot him,” Moone replied. “The war is over.” Skinny Sisk stepped forward, leveled his M-1 at the fleeing man, and shot him dead.”
Pretty much the only decent thoughts expressed in “Band of Brothers” are, interestingly, those of Richard Winters again who remembers reaching a concentration camp:
“The memory of starved, dazed men,” Winters wrote, “who dropped their eyes and heads when we looked at them through the chain-link fence, in the same manner that a beaten, mistreated dog would cringe, leaves feelings that cannot be described and will never be forgotten. The impact of seeing those people behind that fence left me saying, only to myself, ‘Now I know why I am here!’ ”
I will definitely avoid Ambrose as an author from now on and stick to my history books.
So, bad books, work sucks but it’s not too bad? A bit of escapism would be nice? Quickly, grab a fluffy romance novel and laugh, cry, cringe. Sometimes at the same time.
That pretty much covers how I came to read this book – and for a long time, I was absolutely loving it because probably most of us have “leaned back against [our] car and grinned like a fool”. This is Bree Prescott, heroine in this wonderfully sappy romance, fawning over Archer Hale, “the local, mute loner” – well, you get the gist.
This book features a lot of those moments and they were definitely a huge part of what made this book appeal to me. The writing is… adequate. It’s certainly not great but it fits the overall mood quite well:
“I stared at him, our eyes meeting and tangling just like the first time we had met.”
As long as you don’t actually think about “tangling eyes”, you’ll be fine. There are even a few insights in there that were unexpected, at least for me:
“Maybe there was no right or wrong, no black or white, only a thousand shades of grey when it came to pain and what we each held ourselves responsible for.”
And, at times, it gets very, well, soggy…
“He moved toward me, his lips parting slightly, the look on his face a mix between uncertainty and blatant lust.”
What follows is exactly what you’re thinking of right now. Spelled out. Blatantly. If you like that, you won’t be disappointed.
At times, I actually loved this book and was already thinking how this review would read – raving, that I was sure of. I was touched by little things that reminded me of my wife of more than 20 years. Everything was hunky-dory.
And right before we were happily riding into the sunset, Sheridan royally messes up.
I won’t go into the details but it’s so horribly bad, I felt cheated, lied to – belittled as the reader, Sheridan’s audience. I don’t need to be taken overly seriously but there are limits to my patience and while I suspend disbelief, experience and parts of my brain for a good romance, I won’t be fooled.
With the last few chapters Sheridan really manages to totally destroy the entire book for me. I’m still reeling right now because I still feel abused.
Without that, I’d have awarded this book four stars at least, with this “twist” I cannot help make that two only and an author I will avoid from now.
This is my second approach to the work of Ernest Hemingway and I thoroughly hated the experience.
I dimly remember my first attempt when I had just seen “Hemingway”, 1988’s mini series about the author. I think at the time I read “A Farewell to Arms” and put it aside about half way through.
Now, more than 30 years later, I thought it was time to revisit Hemingway and maybe I would like his work better this time. Cautiously, though, I opted for “The Old Man and the Sea”, fearing I might still be bored.
Which I was. Thoroughly. The old fisherman going out to fish, ill-prepared, being pulled out onto the deep sea in a small boat, a skiff, by a fish that’s about as large as said skiff, battling it out, may be impressive to an author who loved bull-fighting, women and drinking hard but it’s nothing I care about anymore.
I’ve been a Bruno fan from the very first book on. I enjoyed reading so much about himself, his friends and the entire town. For quite a few books, things were developing nicely and Bruno became a favourite of mine.
With this book, this ended.
It all starts interesting enough with the death of an old sheep farmer and his children suspecting foul play when they find out they’ve effectively been disinherited. Bruno promises them to look into the entire issue and does fairly well, using his expertise of rural laws and regulations – I was actually getting my hopes up of getting a real Bruno experience. Like a welcome mixture of…
“Sex, drugs, murder—and cruelty to animals.”
… as Walker puts it at one point.
The mystery that starts out so well, takes a backseat to a confusing tale of an aging rockstar, his adult children, a Russian oligarch, his daughter, the Ukraine conflict and world politics…
“Chateau Rock” reads like Walker is simply trying to boast about his cultural knowledge, e. g. About music and, thus, let’s Bruno, a rural French flic say this:
“He recognized the notes of the Spanish classic Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez. At home, he had a CD of Paco de Lucía playing it on guitar while backed by an orchestra, the delicacy of the guitar against the deep sound of the strings and the sharp counterpoint of the clarinet.”
But, ok, maybe Bruno suddenly developed a taste for Spanish guitar music who knows… Even the previous cooking sessions that used to be lovingly described while showing a self-reflecting Bruno, sometimes even getting a new insight into the investigation, feel forced and are entirely superfluous. They add nothing this time but are page after page of transcribed recipes – not what I’m reading Bruno for.
Isabelle makes her usual cameo appearance but everyone else is severely neglected by Walker: Florence, Gilles, the Baron are all mentioned but play hardly any role at all and even rarely serve as bystanders as they sometimes did in the past.
Even Bruno himself is weirdly unlike himself: Not only does he make several potentially severe rookie mistakes (which, magically, turn out to be non-issues) and he does a few things that make him (rightly!) question himself:
“his self-doubts about his treatment of […]. He knew it was standard police procedure, but it was not the way he liked to work.”
Walker has lost me with this latest instalment in a series I used to love. Very sad.
Schon seit Jahrzehnten habe ich eine Schwäche für Frankreich.
Allerdings ist mein Französisch doch inzwischen sehr, sehr “eingerostet”, so daß eine Kommunikation auch stark von Gestik und Mimik abhängt. Insofern bin ich immer dankbar, wenn man sich – meist lachend – auf halbem Wege entgegen kommt. Andererseits aber verbindet Deutschland und Frankreich nach Jahrhunderten der (milde ausgedrückt) Rivalität eine im Vergleich dazu noch junge Freundschaft.
Nimmt man dazu noch Verdun, Izieu, Lyon und all die anderen Gräuel, die Deutschland, mein Land, seinem Nachbarn Frankreich angetan hat, so ist es keine Selbstverständlichkeit, daß meine Familie und ich immer mit offenen Armen empfangen wurden.
Insofern sei auch geschrieben, was ich sonst nur beim Überqueren der Grenze ausrufe: “Vive la France!”
Seit einigen Jahren bereits nimmt ein interessanter Trend zu: Ausgerechnet deutsche Autoren wie Jörg “Commissaire Dupin” Bong (unter dem Pseudonym Jean-Luc Bannalec) oder eben, wie hier, Alexander Oetker, schreiben über Frankreich. Vielleicht ist dies auch Martin Walkers erfolgreicher Bruno-Reihe zu verdanken; auf jeden Fall aber komme ich nicht umhin, diese Bücher zumindest mal probehalber “anzulesen”.
Oetker, um dessen bereits drittes Buch um seinen Commissaire Luc Verlain es hier geht, siedelt diesen in der Aquitaine (deutsch: Aquitanien) im äußersten Südwesten Frankreichs an. Hier lebt und arbeitet der frühere Star-Polizist von Paris aufgrund der Krebserkrankung seines Vaters und löste in den ersten beiden Büchern, “Retour: Luc Verlains erster Fall” und “Château Mort: Luc Verlains zweiter Fall”, bereits mehrere Fälle mit Intelligenz, Empathie und Menschlichkeit – eine Mischung, die mich sofort angesprochen hat.
Auch im vorliegenden Buch, das – eher untypisch für Frankreich-Krimis – im Winter spielt, gelingt es Oetker, eine interessante Geschichte um Austernfischer, eine “Bürgerwehr” sowie zwei Morde zu erzählen, dabei auch der Beziehung zwischen Verlain und seiner Freundin Anouk hinreichend Raum zu verschaffen, ohne aber die Spannung zu vernachlässigen.
So gern ich auch “Winteraustern” gelesen habe, so bleibt davon aber leider nicht viel zurück, denn auch wenn Oetker immer mal wieder zaghaft versucht, Sozial- und Gesellschaftskritik (z. B. über die unsäglichen Zustände in den Pariser Banlieue) unterzubringen: Viel Substanz haben seine durchaus unterhaltsamen Krimis nicht.
Verlain selbst wird von Oetker noch mit Charakter ausgestattet, aber das Talent reicht wohl nicht, um auch die Nebenfiguren noch lebensecht und glaubwürdig zu gestalten. Anouk (die harte Kickbox-Polizistin mit dem weichen Kern), Yacine (böser Vorstadt-Kleinkrimineller, dessen Leben durch die Begegnung mit Verlain zum Guten gewendet wurde), Etxeberria (der Ex-Trinker-flic und Vorzeige-Baske) – sie alle bleiben schemenhaft, klischeehaft und können nicht wirklich überzeugen.
Womöglich ist dies aber auch unausweichlich, wenn man eigentlich sein gesamtes Erwachsenenleben (Oetker ist Jahrgang 1982) für die Mediengruppe RTL gearbeitet hat…
Was bleibt, sind ein paar Stunden angenehmer Leseunterhaltung mit einem sympathischen Commissaire, ein Augenrollen wegen der allerletzten Seiten und – bei aller Kritik – wohlmeinende vier Sterne, die eigentlich drei sein müßten…
I had just read a somewhat mediocre book when I found out Lisa Regan (whom I always want to spell Reagan because whenever I read one of her books, I’m reminded of the late cowboy/ultra-conservative president) had published another of her Josie-Quinn thrillers.
Regan’s books rarely feature something new and exciting but on the other hand, they rarely disappoint because Josie, a small-town detective, and her team are interesting to read about – and quite often the story unfolds at breakneck speed.
This instalment in the series is no exception to either of those two sides of the coin:
“Josie stood in place, her feet concrete blocks. “We believe that Trinity was abducted by a serial killer.””
What a way to break such news to the family…
Josie’s long-lost twin sister, roving reporter Trinity, now fallen from her network’s graces, is abducted – and by a serial killer to boot.
“Josie’s heart ached for her twin. “That’s terrible.””
This is either a recipe for a literary disaster or something good. Fortunately, while this book is not a highlight of the series, it’s quite enjoyable while still being nothing special.
While the story is interesting and engaging, I saw every plot “twist” coming from miles away – up to the very last sentence in the book. Sometimes, going back to the well-known, successful formulas can actually be pleasant. This is such a case for me.
There are a few instances in which Josie and her team make some truly stupid mistakes for which I wanted to shout at them but, ultimately, this Josie Quinn thriller won’t disappoint (if you liked her this far!) and I’m going to stick with her for the time being.
This is the story of a family, holidaying in Nantucket over the summer each year. We’re getting an insight into their life during the eponymous “Summer of ‘69”.
Exalta, the grandparent generation, is the matriarch of the family. Her husband, Penn, passed away years ago and is idolised by Exalta who herself has been a prisoner of the (sometimes questionable) morals of the time but is on her way to make the best of the tumultuous times.
Exalta’s daughter, Kate, is part of the parent generation. Her first husband, Wilder, who served in the Korean War, died shortly after coming home while cleaning his gun. Wilder is the father of Kate’s daughters Blair and Kirby and her son Tiger whereas her third daughter, Jessie, is her second husband’s child. David, Jessie’s father, is a lawyer and made sure Kate got the life insurance payout after Wilder’s death. David is such a great guy, that instead of talking to his binge-drinking wife, he passive-aggressively avoids her completely – to which she responds by buying something huge…
Tiger has quit college to go to war in Vietnam and finds out that’s what he wants to do. Of course, he’s the good kind of soldier and rescues a young boy whose mother was killed (but she was Viet Cong, of course!) instead of massacring innocent villagers, using Napalm and Agent Orange like the rest of them (cf. My Lai).
Kate is so upset about his leaving that she starts drinking heavily. Well, Kate, wait till you see the pictures of what Tiger and his nice buddies did in Vietnam…
Her oldest daughter, Blair, is married to Angus (whose brother, Joey, she used to date) and is expecting their first child. Angus is mostly married to his job at NASA, though, and is working on the planned moon landing while possibly cheating on Blair.
Blair’s sister Kirby is a bit younger; a young adult with a secret that changed her outlook on life. Kirby strives to be more independent and, thus, finds herself a job on Martha’s Vineyard instead of summering with her family in Nantucket. From a young age on, Kirby wanted to be a rebel and, thus, went on a march with Dr. King and her teacher. She rather actively “befriends” the police (the nice guys routinely murdering coloured people in the USA, cf. George Floyd) while at it; slightly defeating the purpose.
She’s quite principled as well – unless the guy’s hot in which case she tells him off (his parents might not approve!) to later date him again when nobody will know it…
Finally, there’s Jessie: Jessie has just turned 13 and falls for Pick, 16, the son of the caretaker of her family’s summer home in Nantucket. Unfortunately for her, while he’s trying to get to second base with her, he’s working on another girl in parallel. Once that girl agrees to “go steady”, Jessie’s dismissed. Just in case, though, he keeps in touch with her as her penpal. Jessie also routinely steals when under pressure but her grandmother, Exalta, quickly fixes that for her to “save face”. Exalta doesn’t really want to know the reasons either, she just grounds Jessie for a week.
There are other characters like Bill, Pick’s grandfather, Bill’s hippie child-neglecting commune-living daughter Lorraine (AKA Lavender), the grabby tennis teacher, the pseudo-feminist tennis teacher, some of the “upper echelon”, etc. etc. but you get the gist.
Why do I tell you all this when I usually just skip to the nitty-gritty? Because you should know what this book is about before you stumble into it, knowing nothing – like I did. I have no idea why this book made it to my “to-read” list and I probably wouldn’t have read it in the first place had I known what I was in for.
By now, you might come to the conclusion that I’m not exactly fond of “Summer of ‘69”. Surprisingly (and somewhat shamefully), that’s not the case. In fact, I really enjoyed reading this multi-generation family soap opera of a book.
Sure, while writing this review, I feel like I should hate every single person that is even mentioned in passing in this book and, yet, it’s a feel-good summer read which is what I wanted. And now a storm is brewing here – must be karma for actually liking this.
“Ich nannte sie eine Schwärmerin und Kunstfee. Dafür nannte sie mich: Homo Faber”
Es muß in den frühen 90’er Jahren gewesen sein, als ich im Bücherschrank meiner Mutter ein Buch im recht nüchtern und sachlich gestalteten weißen Schutzumschlag sah – “Max Frisch”, “Homo faber” und “Bibliothek Suhrkamp” stand dort. Suhrkamp kannte ich – sonst nichts. (Heute weiß ich, daß es sich um die Hardcover-Ausgabe aus dem Jahre 1962 handelte.)
Ich war damals 16, ein seltsamer Vogel, der immens viel Zeit am Computer verbrachte und ansonsten viel las. So traf ich zum ersten Mal auf Faber…
Walter Faber, ein durch und durch unsentimentaler, nüchterner Techniker, der an nichts glaubt, sondern ein Mann der Wissenschaft ist, trifft nach diversen kurzlebigen Frauenbekanntschaften eine junge Frau – Elisabeth, von ihm jedoch Sabeth genannt- die ihn nicht mehr loslassen wird. Eine ganz besondere Liebesgeschichte. Doch letztlich ist dies eine auf vielfältige Weise tragische Geschichte. Wie hätte ich dem mit 16 widerstehen können?
Ich verschlang das Buch. Ich wollte Faber sein; natürlich der unantastbare, technophile Faber, der Ingenieur, der die Welt sieht, wie sie ist und sie verändert… Die weniger schönen Seiten des “Homo Faber” blendete ich gründlich aus.
Ich ging beruflich in die IT und wurde tatsächlich ein bißchen wie Faber.
Das Buch wurde eines meiner absoluten Lieblingsbücher – Fabers und Sabeths und ihrer Geschichte wegen.
Rund 30 Jahre sind seither vergangen. Ich bin verheiratet und habe drei Kinder, die jedoch keine Kinder mehr sind. Ich bin immer noch in der IT. Ein wenig wie Faber gewesen zu sein, hat mir nicht immer gut getan.
Aus Neugier habe ich “Homo Faber” nach all diesen Jahren erneut in die Hand genommen. Dieses Mal als eBook, auf dem Kindle. Walter Faber würde es zu schätzen wissen.
Ich war überrascht, wie anders ich das Buch dieses Mal erlebte: Faber, dessen Alter im Buch ich nun nahezu erreicht habe, kann ich besser verstehen. Seine Reise nach Guatemala, seine Unterbrechung eben dieser Reise.
Vor allem aber: Fabers und Sabeths Reise von Paris nach Rom hatte beim ersten Mal “gefühlt” sehr viel mehr Raum eingenommen. Im Grunde war es die Reise (sowohl die tatsächliche als auch die metaphorische), die mich faszinierte; die Figur des Faber und seine Sicht der Welt.
Die Welt vor Sabeth kann Faber verstehen – zumindest hat er eine ganz klare Idee von ihr:
“Wir leben technisch, der Mensch als Beherrscher der Natur”
Die Liebesgeschichte mit Sabeth ist immer noch schön, äußerst behutsam und mit großem Einfühlungsvermögen und Empathie erzählt.
Jetzt jedoch verfolgte ich geradezu schmerzlich, wie Fabers Welt nach dem Unglück vollkommen aus den Fugen gerät und er sie auch nicht mehr verstehen kann:
“Diskussion mit Hanna! – über Technik (laut Hanna) als Kniff, die Welt so einzurichten, daß wir sie nicht erleben müssen.”
Hannahs Kritik an “[der] Weltlosigkeit des Technikers” kann (und will) Faber nicht verstehen. Ohne wirklich zu verstehen, wie es geschehen konnte, ist Faber schuldlos schuldig geworden und zerbricht vollkommen daran. Die Welt, die er zu kennen glaubte, wird ihm fremd.
Mit 16 hatte ich am Schluß des Buches noch Hoffnung für Faber – jedoch mit älteren Augen gelesen, bleibt davon nichts übrig. So oder so wird es für Walter Faber keine Zukunft geben – ohne es zu wollen, hat er alles – sich selbst eingeschlossen – zerstört.
“Hanna hat immer schon gewußt, daß ihr Kind sie einmal verlassen wird; aber auch Hanna hat nicht ahnen können, daß Sabeth auf dieser Reise gerade ihrem Vater begegnet, der alles zerstört –”
Ein wunderbares, schönes, schmerzliches Buch, das jeder (mindestens) ein Mal lesen sollte.
“The past will hunt you down” it says right there on the cover and I wish it was sarcasm by Patterson to put it there. Because the past hunts only him down.
Let’s start at the beginning, though: In typical Patterson redneck manner, he lets Cross witness the state-sponsored murder of a killer he put away – right after Cross framed the guy… Cross himself about the framing part:
“You might ask if I believed the ends justified the means, and I’d answer that in this case, yes.”
Wow, just wow. But, hey, we’re not yet done with such crap because next to believing in state-sponsored murder, god and similar sources of evil, e. g. patriotism, Cross is just plain unbelievably dumb (how that reflects on his creator is left as an exercise to the reader…). An example: Right before heading deep down into an underground bunker (!) of one of those “preppers”, he asks his friend Sampson:
“I’m not back in an hour, use the Find My Friends app and come get me.”
Since our author obviously thinks he needs to be up-to-date with blackmail practices, he showcases his deep knowledge about crypto-currencies by letting a nerd (of all things…) say the following:
“The Ethereum stopped moving,” he [the nerd] said. “Okay,” I said. “Where is it?” “In two hundred and fourteen accounts spread out all over the world. Some of it has been downloaded to so-called hard wallets, but I have the codes for them. Not a Bitcoin of it has been spent, though. As far as I can tell.” “So it’s just sitting there?”
You’re not required to know but Ethereum and Bitcoin are two different crypto-currencies and the above is like saying “he didn’t spend a Dollar from the thousands of Euro”. It just makes no sense and simply displays how ignorant the author actually is.
But let’s put these blunders aside – is it a decent story? Well, it’s not too bad but, unfortunately, we’ve ready it all before – Jannie running? Check! Nana Mama being an annoying wise-crack? Check! Ali being… Well, I won’t spoil that one for you but, hey, “the (history) book on the shelf, Is always repeating itself” – WATERLOO! (Yes, Abba is much more entertaining!)
Patterson doesn’t stop at repeating himself, though, no: He even puts in large portions of previous investigations, including some Kyle Craig crap and other rehashed nonsense.
And then there’s the ending… Again, I won’t “spoil” (haha!) it for you but, honestly? How cheap can one author get?
Seriously, James Patterson is dead to me. And nothing of value was lost.
“(Confession time: that moment, when the humans or augmented humans realize you’re really here to help them. I don’t hate that moment.)”
It doesn’t happen often but I’m running out of words. So, go andreadmypreviousreviews first, I’ll be waiting here for you. Everything I stated before still holds true for this book.
This first full-length Murderbot Diaries novel proves that Wells can obviously write at any length without ever being overly verbose or even boring.
“Network Effect” starts (mostly) peacefully and pretty similarly to the previous novellas. It’s all there – Dr. Mensah, her family, friends, colleagues and, most importantly, Murderbot who (yes, “which” just wouldn’t do!) is still socially “challenged” with many but not with all…
“It was just me-the-SecUnit they didn’t like. (That didn’t apply to the seven kids. I was illicitly trading downloads via the feed with three of them.)”
… as is, as shown, the friendly humour. First and foremost, though, Murderbot keeps developing in several significant ways (none of which I’m going to spoil for you!) but keeps up with his “strong convictions”…
“Just clients. And if anyone or anything tried to hurt them, I would rip its intestines out.”
We get to know new “humans”, we meet another old friend and an original story I enjoyed a lot.
All in all, this novel left me yearning for more due to its cleverness, creativity, smartness and all the exciting and suspenseful action. Most of all, though, because Murderbot is one of the most relatable characters in a book I’ve ever come across.
In my review about “Exit Strategy” I wrote I don’t love Murderbot. I was wrong.
A Route 53 record set, to point to
the server (so I have a simple name to give to my son’s friends’
A custom record from the AWS Instance
Scheduler, so that
we can have the server stop automatically at bed time, and start up
again the next day (saving cost as well as being a parental control of
So, this stack has to be deployed along with the Instance
and it assumes that you called that stack “instance-scheduler” (should
probably parameterize that). But, hopefully this is useful to someone
Some tasks to do in the future:
Get the server to update to the latest minecraft server automatically
Push some of the configuration into the template: right now, the
template starts the EC2 instance but doesn’t auto-start the server.
It’s expected that you’ll want to customize the server.properties
before starting it the first time. Then, you can enable it with sudo
systemctl enable minecraft-bedrock-server.service and start it with
sudo systemctl start minecraft-bedrock-server.service
Whereas the latter is (almost) purely humorous, though, “The Murderbot Diaries” deliver on several levels:
– They most certainly are funny. Usually not the over-the-top thigh-slapper kind of funny but there’s always a bit of melancholy around the corner. Or the humour is laced with mild regret.
– While I have no clue who “NPR” is, I agree with him that “We are all a little bit Murderbot.“. At least we would like to be. Or maybe even strive to. Because Murderbot, in its ethics and morals, actually surpasses quite a few of us. (Unfortunately, if this applies to you, you won’t notice…) (Or because it can just download from entertainment feeds without worrying and binge-watch stuff that sounds truly cool. )
– Last but not least, Murderbot appeals to my inner nerd: A SecUnit! Super-human strength, reflexes, built-in weapons, travelling space (while binge-watching!), searching for meaning, for what it wants to do – who could resist?
– It’s exciting and you know what’s going to happen when Murderbot simplay states “I shut my risk assessment module down.”
Despite all the challenges it faces (battles, almost wiping itself out, etc.), the truly difficult situations are (seemingly) handled with ease: “I had a complex emotional reaction.”
The novelty has worn off by now, of course, but the thrill of something new, exciting and wonderful has been replaced by recognition, trust in a positive outcome and a feeling like coming home.
I wouldn’t go as far as Ann Leckie (“I love Murderbot!”; although, re-reading the previous paragraph… ) but Martha Wells and her Murderbot actually changed my mind about the entire Science Fiction genre (was: Staring elsewhere and hoping it goes away on its own; is: “Hm… Maybe there’s more like this?”) and – as whoever knows me will attest to – changing my mind borders on the Herculean efforts…
The Murderbot Diaries strangely appeal to me. As I’m still on my way to the full length novel, recently published, I’m wondering at the simple elegance and straightforwardness of the novellas.
This second instalment in the series is, thankfully, pretty much more of the same in a very good way. We still get a good view of a “construct” that’s basically a robot with human parts – and it shows: Murderbot feels slightly like it’s a person on the autism scale.
“I skimmed it but most of my attention was on getting through the crowd while pretending to be an ordinary augmented human, and not a terrifying murderbot. This involved not panicking when anybody accidentally made eye contact with me.”
This time, Murderbot is literally and metaphorically on a journey: Having recently run away from its benefactor of the first novella, Dr. Mensah, it’s now literally on the way to dig into its own – murderous? – past. Metaphorically speaking, Murderbot is on a journey to find itself, to find out what it actually wants – if having a guardian is actually the same as having an owner and other questions.
“On the way to this transit ring, alone on my empty cargo transport, I had had a chance to do a lot of thinking about why I had left Mensah, and what I wanted. I know, it was a surprise to me, too. But even I knew I couldn’t spend the rest of my lifespan alone riding cargo transports and consuming media, as attractive as it sounded.”
Fortunately, it finds a friend in ART, a Research Transport, with computing power beyond even its own comprehension. When Murderbot gets itself hired by a human “crew”, things quickly become complicated because lurking beneath waves of “non-caring” is a complicated being that has more in common with us humans than it likes to admit. Murderbot feels more compelled to help its humans by them asking it to than it ever was by its long-gone governor chip. And yet it’s still the socially-impaired escapist media junky:
“I wanted to just sink into my media downloads for a while and pretend I didn’t exist.”
Murderbot acts uncompromisingly human and is just as full of flaws as the rest of us. Unlike the rest of us, though, it transcends those flaws if it has to.
If that doesn’t give the rest of us nerds hope, what could?
“And in their corner all they had was Murderbot, who just wanted everyone to shut up and leave it alone so it could watch the entertainment feed all day.”
I’m not a Science Fiction fan. I’m not especially fond of novellas. This one, though…
I can’t even really explain what appealed to me about this novella: Murderbot neither really feels like a robot nor like a person but still strangely… plausible. Murderbot’s actions feel logical, yet simple. It does what it has to do. It’s ambiguity as an artificial lifeform makes it feel both familiar in, e. g. its shyness and some other emotions – not to speak of its entertainment addiction. Plus: An artificial lifeform that (sometimes) acts more humanely than its human counterparts? Fascinating!
Murderbot is literally strange enough to go through a contrasting melange of emotions as well. This contrast, the SecUnits conflicting feelings and survival strategies is probably what made this story so wondrously attractive for me.
All in all, the novella is based on an interesting premise with a good mixture of characters and a lot of suspense. Spice that up with Murderbot itself and its diverse clients and you get a modern, fresh approach to science fiction.
When I decided to read this book, I was expecting a light, funny romance before going back to more “serious” books. I basically wanted what the title promised – an early “Beach Read”. Unfortunately, this was obviously not to be.
First of all, January, our heroine, is annoyingly insecure. Her mother got cheated on by her late father and both the cheating and the dying entirely shattered a 28-year-old’s world. Right.
Gus, our brooding, “evil sexy” (repeated ad nauseam throughout the book!) hero is not only an embodiment of male clichés but pretty much behaves like an arse: he keeps pushing January away for no discernable reason, keeps alternating between giving obvious signals and pretty much kicking her out.
At times I thought we’d get to the funny, light beach parts but then they interview former cultists, visit the scene of mass suicide/murder (where they quickly proceed to entirely different kinds of “investigations”) and do their best to lengthen a mediocre story and book.
Over long periods, this book was simply boring. In fact, despite just having finished reading it, “Beach Read” is already fading from my otherwise perfectly fine memory. Which is, come to think of it, no loss at all.
Along came “Warden’s Fate” and with it, the final instalment in the series, Tony is back! Gone are (most of) the typos, the characters actually make sense and get sufficient room to grow.
Back as well is Tony’s humour and good-natured kindness in his story. The action is still there and this book is another page-turner but the pacing is much more even and “rounded”. We actually get to enjoy the book, its scenes and people which is really, truly nice.
There are lots of good ideas, presented in an engaging, suspenseful way and, mostly, in actually really well-chosen words.
Especially important to me: Tony gets the emotions right this time – we really feel with Tris, Kyra, Lukas and everyone else.
Of course, this isn’t high literature and it doesn’t have to be because this book is over-the-top action, fun, and just great entertainment!
I pretty much enjoyed every page which makes this book, astoundingly, a full five stars read – and I don’t even like the Science Fiction genre!
As much as it surprises myself, I’m most likely to actually read this crew’s further adventures.
In this article, we will be looking into how we can build a computer program
for solving arbitrary Binary Puzzles using the Python programming language, and
the Z3 Theorem Prover.
Z3 is a Satisfiability Modulo Theories (SMT) solver made by Microsoft Research.
It is cross-platform and is released under the MIT license. Z3 comes with a
Python API that we will be using. Our goal is to encode the rules of the
Binary Puzzle game in terms of mathematical equations that Z3 can comprehend.
Once we have defined the rules of the game for Z3, we want to use it to solve
any solvable Binary Puzzle for us or tell us if the puzzle is unsolvable.
I enjoy number puzzles such as Sudoku and Binary Puzzles. For some reason, I
always end up solving more Binary Puzzles than I solve Sudokus. Binary Puzzles
are more straightforward than Soduku and are thus playable in a shorter amount
of time. A Binary Puzzle can be played online from various websites or via
applications that are available for both Android and iOS. Look in the
application store on your preferred platform, and you will most likely have
numerous implementations of this uncomplicated puzzle available to you. The
example puzzles I use in this article are taken from
BinaryPuzzle.com, which is my preferred website for
playing the game in a web browser.
Let us begin by having a closer look at the Binary Puzzle game before we begin
implementing the solver in the Python programming language.
Rules for Binary Puzzles
The Binary Puzzle game consists of an NxN two-dimensional game grid with some
cells pre-filled with either zero or one. The rest of the cells remains empty
for us to fill in with either a zero or a one. The difficulty of the game can
be tuned by adding or removing pre-filled values in the initial game state.
The rules for the Binary Puzzle game are pretty simple: we must solve the
puzzle using the following set of rules:
Each cell must contain either a zero or a one.
No more than two identical numbers are allowed immediately next to each
other, both horizontally and vertically.
Each row and each column must contain an equal amount of zeros and ones.
Each row and each column must be unique.
An observation we can make from the third rule is that the smallest possible
game grid is 2x2, and each NxN two-dimensional game grid must make use of an
even N value. The 2x2 game grid is also the only size of a game grid where the
second rule does not have any influence on the game, and the second rule is
thus ignorable for this particularly sized game grid.
We begin with an easy 6x6 game grid with 14 pre-filled cells out a total of 36
cells. That is 38.9% of the game grid being pre-filled for us before we have
even begun. This example game will hopefully allow us to build up some
intuition about the game mechanics, and make it easier for us to understand the
rules we need to implement using Python and Z3 later in the article.
The initially pre-filled cells are the only cells that remain immutable
throughout the game while we try to discover the value of each of the empty
cells in the game grid. The pre-filled cell values are set in bold typeface in
all of the visualizations in this article to make sure we do not
unintentionally change any of them.
The initial game grid looks as following:
We look for the pattern where two identical numbers exist immediately next to
each other either horizontally or vertically in the game grid. Once we have
identified one or more identical pairs in the game grid, we know that the cells
before and after the pair cannot share the same value as the pair itself
because of the second rule of the game. We update the game grid with the new
We continue the search for patterns in the updated game grid. We have created
some new locations where two identical values are in a pair, which allows us to
repeat the previous step.
We can also look for a new pattern, which is when we have a horizontal or
vertical triplet, where the content of the first and last cells are identical,
and the middle cell is empty. Since we know from the second rule of the game
that no more than two identical values are allowed immediately next to each
other, we can deduct that the content of the middle cell in the triplet must be
the opposite of the first and last value of the triplet. The game grid now
looks as follows:
We can now fill in the remaining three cells using a mixture of the second and
the third rule of the game.
Now that the game grid is complete, and no empty cells remain, we can verify
that the game state satisfies each of the four rules. Each cell contains either
a zero or a one. No more than two identical values are next to each other
neither horizontally nor vertically. Each row and each column have an identical
amount of zeros and ones. Finally, each row and column are unique.
We have solved our first Binary Puzzle manually. We can now begin building a
model of the game using Python and Z3.
Building the Model
The purpose of this article is to build a Python program that can solve
arbitrary Binary Puzzles for us. We use the Z3 interface for Python to do “the
hard labor” of this task, but we still need to describe the game rules to the
Z3 solver before it can do anything useful for us.
Before we start defining the Z3 model of the game, we need to define the
representation of the game grid in Python. We use the same initial game grid as
used in the example game above. In Python, we encode the game grid as follows:
We represent the game grid as a list of lists of integers and N values in
Python. The N value is defined as the Python value None and is used
throughout this article to represent an empty cell. The task of the Z3 solver
will be to eliminate any N values in the game grid and replace it with either
a zero or a one.
If we were to solve the puzzles without an engine like Z3, but using “pure”
Python code, the naive approach would be to define several imperative steps
that try to solve the game by eliminating the empty cells one by one.
The way Z3 works is by us adding “constraints” or “assertions” that will make
it possible for its built-in solver to solve the domain-specific problem that
we are describing using our constraints. In this case, the Binary Puzzle game.
Once we have added all of the game rules encoded as constraints to the Z3
solver, we ask it to come with a possible solution for us. Z3 will try to find
a solution where all constraints are satisfied or otherwise notify us of its
inability to solve the given puzzle.
To implement the Binary Puzzle solver as “bug-free” as possible, we perform
some initial input validation of the input puzzle to ensure that it is
meaningful before we ask Z3 to try to do anything to it. We start by defining a
Python value representing the size of our game grid. We call this variable
size, and we define it as follows:
We want to ensure that the input puzzle is non-empty:
We want to ensure that the game grid’s size value is an even number in
accordance with the observation we made while going over the rules of the game:
We want to ensure that the NxN input puzzle has the correct dimensions, and
does not contain rows or columns of a different length than N. We verify this
by ensuring that each row is size cells wide:
Now that we have validated the input puzzle to avoid the worst mistakes, we can
start constructing the Z3 solver for the puzzles.
When we work with a constraint solver such as Z3, we do work with traditional
programming concepts such as “variables,” but we do not assign values to them
like we would in Python. Instead, we build up a set of equations that makes use
of these variables, and then we ask Z3 to give us a result where all of the
constraints are satisfied. If our input is impossible to solve because of
violations of the game rules, Z3 will be unable to give us a solution, and the
problem is considered unsatisfiable. However, if the problem is satisfiable, Z3
will have the correct value for each of our cells in the game grid.
The symbolic variables we define for Z3 has no structure, such as rows and
columns. Instead, we later define the structure using the equations we add to
The first task we have to perform is to build a list of all possible x and y
pairs we have in the game grid. We call these our “positions”:
We can now create the symbolic variables used by Z3. Each symbolic variable
must have a name, which we in Python can represent as a string value. The
string value allows us to later identify the specific variable during debugging
if that becomes necessary. We create a Python dictionary of (x, y) pairs as
key, and the symbolic Z3 integer as value for each cell in our game grid:
We have now defined a symbolic variable for each cell in the 6x6 game grid.
Each symbolic variable can now be looked up in our dictionary of symbols using
its x and y value as the key. We also named the symbolic variables “v0;0”,
“v0;1”, …, “v5;4”, “v5;5”, respectively. While we still have no
structure for the symbolic variables, we can visualize the symbolic variables
in the game grid in the way they will be used once we have build structure such
as “rows” and “columns”:
We do not have to inform the Z3 solver about the existence of each of the
symbolic variables. Instead, the solver will learn about their existence as we
use them in our constraints later in the article.
The dictionary of symbols allows us to build two Python lists representing each
row and each column in the game grid as lists of symbolic variables. The added
structure will make it easier to implement the rules of the game in the next
steps. We create the rows and columns lists in Python:
To avoid unnecessary duplications in our source code, we also create a variable
representing both the rows and the columns in the game grid as the rules of the
game often apply to both:
We can now instantiate the Z3 solver which we will add the constraints of the
Since some cells are already pre-filled for us, we need to inform Z3 about the
value of these cells. We do this by adding a constraint specifying the exact
value of the given symbolic variable using the equality comparison operator in
An important detail to understand here is that even if we apply the equality
comparison operator here, the Z3 variable overloads this operator. The operator
overloading ensures that it is the expression we add to the solver and not the
boolean result of Python comparing the symbolic variable with the content of
the value variable for equality.
Notice how we explicitly ignore the empty cells in our puzzle since the goal is
to have Z3 fill those out for us.
The first set of constraints directly related to the rules of the game will be
coming from the first rule: all cells in the game grid must contain either a
zero or a one. We add these constraints to all of the symbolic variables in the
dictionary of symbols as follows:
An example of a violation we could make now would be if our input game grid
contained a value such as two, which would be a violation of the set of
constraints we have added to the solver.
The next constraints we add to the Z3 solver handles the third rule of the game
and ensures that each row and each column have the same amount of zeros and
ones. Instead of counting each zero and one in each row and column, we encode
these constraints as the sum of each row, and each column must be equal to the
size divided by two:
The constraints needed to check the uniqueness of each row and each column are
slightly more complicated but required to implement the fourth rule of the
game. For each row and column, we ensure that each other row or column does not
contain the same values as the current row or column does. Remember that we
pass the Z3 solver symbolic variables such that the Z3 solver will check the
actual content of the variables when we execute the model. We implement these
constraints in Python as follows:
The final set of constraints we need to add to the Z3 solver are only necessary
for all NxN game grids where N is greater than 2. These constraints implement
the second rule of the game that says no more than two identical numbers are
allowed immediately next to each other horizontally and vertically.
We model these constraints using a set of “sliding windows” of three cells in
each window of the game grid: each triplet must not contain three identical
values in it. We can visualize the sliding window algorithm of three cells as
Implementing the sliding window constraints in Python looks as follows:
Another approach we could have taken here is to check each window if the sum of
the three symbolic variables is equal to 0 or 3. However, using equality checks
for these constraints seemed more intuitive to the author at the time of
Using the Model
We have now implemented all the game rules as mathematical equations for Z3 to
be able to solve the puzzle, but first, we have to check the solver if the
current constraints are “satisfiable”. We use the solver’s check() method to
If the input puzzle contained a violation of some of the constraints, such as
containing two identical rows, then the call to check() would fail, and we
would raise an exception.
Once we have run check() successfully, we can fetch the model that Z3 has
created for the puzzle:
We can now query the model for the actual value of each of the symbolic
variables stored in the dictionary of symbols. We build up a mapping between
the cell positions, and the result of the evaluation of the symbolic variable:
If we visualize the solution from Z3, it will look as follows:
We have successfully programmed the Z3 solver such that it can solve the 6x6
game grid for us, but we implemented all of the game rules such that they will
work for any NxN game grid with an even N value. We have specified the rules of
the game as a set of mathematical equations instead of specifying each step
Python needs to take to solve the puzzle.
It is much easier to write a validator for whether the game is correctly solved
or not than it is to solve the game itself. However, we will skip the details
of the validator implementation in this article.
Puzzles with Higher Difficulty
Let us have a look at how the solver handles a more difficult input puzzle. We
change the input puzzle to be a 14x14 game grid instead of the example 6x6 game
grid. In the new puzzle, only 45 out of 196 cells (23.0%) are pre-filled for
us, making this game much harder than the example game where 38.9% of the cells
were pre-filled. The new game grid looks as follows:
The Z3 solver can solve this puzzle in around 2.5 seconds on the author’s 2.6
GHz Intel i7 desktop computer from 2016. The result seems to be correct. The
solution looks as follows:
An interesting detail that is worth including here is what happens if we ask Z3
to solve an impossible puzzle. With the rules encoded as a set of mathematical
equations, we could try to build an input puzzle that passes the initial input
validation but would be unsatisfiable.
One of the most trivial puzzles we can construct that is unsatisfiable and
passes the input validation is this 2x2 game grid for which no possible
solution exists under the rules of the game:
This game grid will be a violation of the third rule of the game whereby each
row, and each column, must contain the same number of zeros and ones if we try
to solve it by filling in the two empty cells. Additionally, both rows of this
game would be identical, which is a violation of the fourth rule of the game.
Because of these violations, this puzzle will be unsatisfiable. Passing this
puzzle to the solver will make our program throw an “Unsolvable Puzzle Error”
Exploring Z3, together with the Python programming language, has been a fun
learning exercise. I could see myself use Z3 to solve various real-world
problems that I have historically relied on implementing manual solutions
crafted by hand to solve. Changing my mindset from trying to solve the specific
problem by hand over to modeling the problem in a declarative way is
entertaining and something I wish I could make use of more often in my daily
life as a programmer.
If you are interested in learning more about using Z3 together with the Python
programming language, I suggest you take a look at the excellent Programming
Z3 guide by Nikolaj
Bjørner, Leonardo de Moura, Lev Nachmanson, and Christoph Wintersteiger from
The source code for the Binary Puzzle solver, we implemented in this article,
is available from Github. The source
code is published under the BSD 2-Clause license.
“The stories I write might be fantasy, but the depiction of the feelings people share for each other is real.”
I’m cheating. The above quote is not from the actual content but from Michael’s afterword. I chose it for the simple fact that, to me at least, this is what makes Michael’s books “work” for me. But we’ll come to that yet…
First, I have to admit that I was actually afraid of reading this book. “Age of Death”, this book’s predecessor, was not exactly my favourite. It felt long, uninspired, weighed down by metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.
The creative playfulness, the lightness, was mostly missing and those were important reasons I really liked the books before it. Would “Age of Empyre” “fix” this and as easily achieve what the first four books did?
“Brin felt altogether miserable. The written language was her one thing, her life’s achievement. She’d spent years creating, refining, and polishing the system. It was the accomplishment she was proudest of, at least until a moment ago.”
… where early on the wheel was invented and Michael actually managed to make me believe it could have happened the way he envisioned it, this feels a bit more heavy-handed as you can see. And, yet, we do get a glimpse of the wonders that made the earlier books so good here as well.
Metaphysics are back as well but they feel less forced and actually intrinsically make sense – especially the idea of both literally and metaphorically becoming “light”(er) by freeing oneself from whatever bogs us down appeals to me.
Once more, Michael gets almost everything right – every loose end is wrapped up and seemingly disconnected events unavoidably lead to the brilliant conclusion not only of this book but the entire series.
Overall, all the choices Michael makes for his characters (and there are some I didn’t entirely like) are great. His way of telling his story is above reproach and I stick to what I wrote early about the series being his magnum opus.
Why is that? Because Michael.
The feelings he tells us are real, feel real. I don’t know Michael personally but after having read thousands of pages he wrote, I’ve come to see him as a bright beacon of hope, empathy and love.
In his protagonists’ darkest hours, there’s hope…
“That’s what stories are for, Brin realized. They are magic that aid people in times like this. They provide hope, a light to see by when all others are snuffed out.”
… and love of all kinds…
“A mouse trapped in a corner by a bear will still fight for survival. Love, he came to realize, was like that. No matter the odds, love refused to give up.”
… as well as empathy and forgiveness. That, basically, is what the tremendous and epic story Michael has told us is about.
The human warmth Michael’s books practically exude (combined with his good-natured humour) shine through in many places (major spoiler ahead so think hard before you reveal it!):
““Minna?” Suri said, and the wolf stopped to look back. “Would you like it better if I called you Gilarabrywn?” The wolf whimpered. “You like Minna better?” Yip. The wolf’s head jerked up with enough force that her front paws came off the ground. Suri shrugged and smiled. “Minna it is.””
The afterwords of both Michael and his wife Robin shed light on some decisions and opinions and greatly helped to get “the big picture”.
Michael, Robin, should you read this: Thank you for doing this and allowing me to help via Kickstarter. It was a wonderful, amazing, brilliant ride and please, please, please keep on writing – whatever it is, I’m going to read it.
You two are the real Legends – and you didn’t even have to die!
After not just one but two less than stellar reads in a row, I wanted to read something that was a) unlikely to disappoint (because I didn’t have high expectations in the first place), b) uplifting and c) easy to “digest”.
“The Happy Ever After Playlist” was almost exactly that. It started right by being funny…
“I snorted and descended into manic laughter again, putting a finger to my twitching eyelid.”
… and went on to be just “nice”, good-natured maybe or – as my daughter might put it – “wholesome”…
“Ten days. I’d had Tucker for ten wonderful, fur-on-my-bedspread, wet-kisses-in-the-morning, tail-wagging days.”
It felt pretty much like watching an old favourite TV show from childhood. Exactly what I wanted.
Of course, a (mostly) simple romance like this, featuring a hot bone-marrow-donating (to save a little girl!) rock star, Jason, and a curvy blonde, Sloan, who falls for him, is pretty much as cliché as it gets. Thus, I read this alternating between smiling (and sometimes giggling) and cringing (“I wanna get my hands on your pipes.”) – sometimes even simultaneously.
What helped was how effortless this book is written and, thus, to read. Even the constant switching between the perspective of both Jason and Sloan felt natural and made sense. Where other authors tend to be heavy-handed and “artsy” about such stuff, Jimenez got it exactly right.
Up until about the middle of the book, everything worked just great. It got slightly more complicated after as both Jason and Sloan mess up three times over mostly stupid issues. Maybe that’s “true to life” but one “crisis” is enough for me in a romance.
A minor detail but a nice touch were the song titles that precede every chapter. Judging by the titles they fit nicely and since I’d never heard of most of the musicians, I’m currently playing the eponymous “Happy Ever After Playlist” (which you can find on Apple Music here). (I must admit, I’m slightly disappointed now as the titles sounded more promising than what I’m hearing now. )
Ultimately, though, this was exactly the kind of literary junk food I was craving and what more could I possibly ask for?!
“If there was ever a candidate to be patron saint of computers then it would be Alan Turing. Mathematician, war hero and tragic victim of homophobia.”
And the above quotation is pretty much the only redeeming quality of this entire uninspired mess of a book.
As seems almost mandatory among “hip” authors these days, we have completely unnecessary jumps in the narrated time between chapters. Why can’t people tell their story linearly?! It’s not that hard and Aaronovitch stops jumping around the middle of the book and nothing of value is lost. So, why do it in the first place?
There’s no character development, no furthering any story arc, nothing. Not even the mediocre story of mixing magic, the generally supernatural and technology is fully explored but lacklustrely told and unconvincingly at that.
Even worse: Apart from countless allusions to the Hitchhiker’s Guide, “False Value” alludes to other works of Aaronovitch (probably those graphic “novels”) which I’m not in the least interested in reading.
This book was so boring, I’m surprised I managed to finish it. If you’ve been a fan so far, skip this one and hope for better times. If you haven’t read any “Rivers of London” yet, start at the beginning instead and, if you get that far, pretend this turd doesn’t exist.
Oder “Bullshit-Bingo mit Jussi” Oder “Alle Probleme dieser Welt – in einem Buch!”
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
“Erst da begriff Carl, dass Assad gerade auf der Kippe stand – der Kippe zwischen Mensch und Killermaschine.”
Meine Güte, Adler-Olsen, was tun Sie da eigentlich?! Sie haben unglaublich sympathische Protagonisten: Carl Mørk, behäbiger Ermittler, der gern mal an seinem Schreibtisch schläft und seine Fälle eher widerwillig, aber beharrlich löst. Assad, sein Kollege mit scharfem Verstand, viel Empathie und arabischem Migrationshintergrund, der immer wieder für amüsante Sprichwort-Verwechslungen sorgt, aber auch ein dunkles (?) Geheimnis mit sich herumträgt, das ihn schwer belastet.
Diese beiden eigentlich grundverschiedenen Menschen raufen sich Buch für Buch zusammen und lösen mit Verständnis, großer Humanität und Einfühlungsvermögen schwierige “Cold Cases”, die häufig auf Themen der Zeitgeschichte bezug nehmen. In bisher sieben Büchern habe ich Carl und Assad “begleitet” und es weitestgehend genossen.
Dieses achte Buch jedoch…
Lieber Leser, nimm Dir einen Zettel, und schreibe alle halbwegs aktuellen Herausforderungen der Menschheit des späten 20. und frühen 21. Jahrhunderts (außer COVID-19!) auf. Ich warte solange…
Na? Alles gehabt? Oder total perplex, so wie ich es war? Nicht mißverstehen: Über all das kann man schreiben, diskutieren und es auch in Krimis unterbringen, keine Frage. Aber muß man wirklich all das in einem Buch unterbringen?
Darüber hinaus sind ständige Perspektiv-Wechsel und Zeitsprünge natürlich auch aus der modernen Literatur nicht mehr wegzudenken – und manchmal ist das interessant und spannend! Hier jedoch ist es nur verwirrend, nervig und zeitweise schwer verständlich.
Was dabei herauskommt, wenn man all das in ein Buch zwängt, kräftig umrührt, mit ein bißchen unnötiger Gewalt garniert, schlußendlich noch ein bißchen Werbung für einen bekannten Computer-Hardware-Hersteller dazu kippt und die ganze Sauerei seinen Lesern vor die Füße kotzt, das sieht man an “Opfer 2117”.
Dazu kommt dann noch bemüht technokratische Sprache, wie nachfolgend sehr schön am Beispiel eines klingelnden Handys erkennbar wird:
“Sie waren bis etwa Kassel gekommen, als die Bluetooth-Verbindung auf Carls Handy reagierte.”
Warum einfach, wenn’s auch unnötig kompliziert geht?
Stalin, der Holocaust (!) und ein bißchen Satan runden das grottenschlechte Bild dieses Romans trefflich ab, so daß ich mich dem Wunsch eines unserer “Helden” nur anschließen kann…
“er wünschte, er könnte sich die Ohren zuhalten und einfach aus diesem satanischen Tableau verschwinden.”
… auch wenn’s bei mir die Augen waren.
Wer sich den Mist nicht antun mag: Natürlich geht ausnahmslos alles (!) letztlich gut aus und Assads Geheimnis ist auch eher mau.
Phew, Josie is back! After having been disappointed by Her Silent Cry, the previous instalment in the Josie Quinn series, this book brings her back on the right track.
This time, Josie investigates the murder of a couple and the disappearance of a friend of theirs, deep in the woods. A hermit, some creepy underground caverns and a strange cult feature prominently in this story and lend it a lot of atmosphere and, at least to me, a strong appeal.
Of course, “Cold Heart Creek” is the same literary junk food as its predecessors and, thus, you shouldn’t expect deep insights into the state of mankind, human nature or the question to 42 but if you – like me – enjoy a good thriller with likeable protagonists, despicable villains and some fast-paced action in combination with a good part police procedural, you can’t really go wrong with this book.
I have just one minor gripe: The resolution of a long-term dilemma of Josie’s is rather simplistic and, in my opinion, less than convincing.
“»Wo bist du zu Hause?« »Meine Sonne«, sagt Großmutter. »Meine Freude. Mein Esel. Begreif das endlich. Es zählt nicht, wo was ist. Oder woher man ist. Es zählt, wohin du gehst. Und am Ende zählt nicht mal das. Schau mich an: Ich weiß weder, woher ich komme, noch wohin ich gehe. Und ich kann dir sagen: Manchmal ist das gar nicht so schlecht.«”
Ein neues Jahr und die erste Rezension – zu diesem Anlaß habe ich einmal mehr in meiner Muttersprache gelesen.
Saša Stanišić war mir als Autor völlig unbekannt und nur durch die Vorstellung seines Buches “Herkunft”, das den Deutschen Buchpreis 2019 gewann, in “Druckfrisch” und das Gespräch zwischen dem von mir hoch geschätzten Denis Scheck und Stanišić, wurde ich auf ihn aufmerksam.
Um es gleich vorweg zu nehmen: “Herkunft” ist ein überaus persönliches Buch und erzählt aus Stanišić’ Leben. Insofern mag nicht jeder sich mit diesem Werk anfreunden können. Auch ich tat mich insbesondere anfangs sehr schwer mit Stil und Inhalt:
“Der Hund findet im Gebüsch einen Stück Stoff, blau, weiß, rot, wie die Fahne. Nicht zu glauben, flüstere ich. Der Hund riecht nach frisch gemähtem Gras. Ich langweile den Hund.”
Allzu merkwürdig anekdotisch und sprunghaft kam mir das alles vor. Ein Buch aus vielen Fragmenten mit Sprüngen quer durch Zeit und Raum, vor und zurück. Von den 80’ern bis 2018, von Jugoslawien (als es das noch gab) bis Deutschland. Seltsam, manchmal anstrengend und, ja, auch recht lang.
Nach knapp einem Fünftel des Buches war ich drauf und dran, aufzugeben und ein weniger anstrengendes Buch zu lesen. Doch der “erzählte” Stanišić (handelt es sich doch um eine Mischung aus (viel) Erinnerung und (wohl wenig) Fiktion) war mir ungeheuer sympathisch und so lehnte ich mich geistig zurück und ließ mich schlicht auf das Buch ein.
Ab diesem Moment wurde “Herkunft” zu einem für mich streckenweise ungeheuer ergreifenden Buch. Bei allem Witz (“Müssen Flößer schwimmen können?”) und Geist, den dieses Buch versprüht, so habe ich dennoch viele Taschentücher gebraucht und auch jetzt – in der Rückschau – “schniefe” ich vor mich hin.
Es sind gar nicht so viele “neue Erkenntnisse”, die ich diesem Buch entnehmen konnte; vielmehr verspürte ich eine merkwürdige Verbundenheit, was des Autors “Philosophie” angeht:
“»Ihr habt es mir nicht schwer gemacht. Das Dorf nicht, nicht die Schwiegereltern«, sagte Großmutter. Das gefiel mir: Es jemandem nicht schwer zu machen, genau darum sollte es doch überhaupt und immer gehen.”
Nicht “leicht machen”, aber es jemandem nicht schwer machen – eine einfache und doch überaus menschenfreundliche Einstellung.
Ich erwähnte bereits, daß “Herkunft” ein überaus persönliches Buch ist. Insofern steht es mir eigentlich nicht zu, mich über manche Längen im Buch zu echauffieren. Obschon ich zeitweise der Ansicht war, daß eine radikale Kürzungen dem Lese- und Erzählfluß vielleicht gut getan hätten. Andererseits bedarf es vielleicht gerade der Länge, um dem Sujet gerecht zu werden:
“Heimat, sage ich, ist das, worüber ich gerade schreibe. Großmütter. Als meine Großmutter Kristina Erinnerungen zu verlieren begann, begann ich, Erinnerungen zu sammeln.”
Auch sprachlich ist das Buch ein Genuß; noch nie zuvor habe ich beispielsweise vom “multikulturellen Faustdialog” gehört.
Bei allem Persönlichen bezieht Stanišić jedoch auch ganz klar politisch Stellung, was man ihm gerade heute hoch anrechnen muß:
“Welten vergehen, stellt man sich denen, die sie vergehen lassen wollen, nicht früh und entschieden in den Weg. Heute ist der 21. September 2018. Wäre am nächsten Sonntag Bundestagswahl, käme die AfD auf 18% der Stimmen.”
Eine erschreckende Erinnerung, daß die Herrschaft der Nationalsozialisten wohl doch schon für viele Wähler zu lange zurückliegt.
Der letzte Teil des Buches ist auch formal eine Zeitreise – wer um die 40 ist, wird sich wahrscheinlich aus den 80’ern an die sogenannten “Spielbücher” erinnern, die man “kreuz-und-quer” las – wer das nicht kennt, dem möchte ich die Überraschung nicht nehmen und allen anderen sei gesagt, das Stanišić hier noch einmal zu fantasievoller erzählerischer Hochform aufläuft.
Eine so schöne und persönliche Definition von Herkunft ist selten und absolut lesenswert.
“»Ein Stanišić, noch ein Stanišić und noch einer«, frohlockte Gavrilo. Sein Atem ging schnell, er stellte sich aufrecht hin, um sich Platz zu verschaffen. Die Luft wog schwer vor Ahnungen und Ahnen. »Und sie fanden den geeigneten Ort«, rief er. »Der Ort ist hier! Oskoruša! Hier schlugen sie ihre Wurzeln! Stanišić, Stanišić, Stanišić. Und jetzt – jetzt kommst du!« Um darüber zu schreiben? Über Vorfahren und Nachkommen. Gräber und Tischdecken und Wiedergänger. Überlebende. Und jetzt ja wohl auch über Drachen.”
The new year’s first review and, again, it’s a difficult one to write. In part because I did somewhat enjoy this latest instalment of “Ancient Guardians”. On the other hand, though, in spite of being a page-turner, I was constantly shifting between liking and hating this book.
First of all, it’s more of pretty much exactly the same as in the previous books – Tris is fighting for peace in the universe, tagging along are Kreon, Kyra and the others. There’s a new babysitter as well who remains pretty bleak and shallow, though.
The gore is back as well – not quite as annoying as in the third book but it’s still there, it’s still annoying and completely superfluous. I’m convinced it’s included for the kick some guys get out of such stuff.
Back in force as well are the typos, ungrammatical sentences, bad formatting, etc.; while I really think self-publishing is a great thing, one should at least make better use (or try to engage better) beta readers:
“One the one hand, a man like Gerian would demand the best when it came to his guards;”
Mistakes like that are just annoying and you’ll find lots of them – much more than in the previous books.
Exactly the same is also Tony’s tendency not to miss any cliché: – Blood-thirsty monsters with razors on their hands? Check! – Killer robots? Check! – Murderous emperors & their clones? Check!
We’ve seen all of that before in science fiction films or read it in other books – just usually in a more original way. The way Tony works with his material more and more feels like he has simply reached the limits of his writing skills.
Tony writes hilariously brilliant travel literature but I grow weary of his juvenile kind of story-telling. Once the novelty had worn off, the mediocrity began to shine through.
Tony very, very clumsily tries to address issues of morality when he makes Tristan kill someone but it doesn’t get beyond the most trivial observations:
“ had seen the darkness in him, and had called him out on it. And Tris had killed him for it. ”
Another huge issue for me was that our heroes – as likeable as they may be – seem to have no real discernible talents beyond very specific “attributes” – Kreon is pretty much “bullet-proof”, Kyra is a great pilot, Ella’s talents as actually witnessed seem to be mostly restricted to the bedroom – in spite of her claim to be an assassin priestess – and Tris acts first and thinks afterwards. But at least he has his glaive and now a brain implant. While they’re supposed to be high and mighty, what actually saves them is mostly dumb luck or the author’s liberal use of deus-ex-machina moments which Tony is at least not shy to acknowledge:
“Luckily, he had a miracle on speed-dial.”
There are tons of minor issues like the practically indistinguishable formatting mess that telepathic conversations are or stating the obvious: ““Guess we’re going that way,” Kyra said. And they did.”
And, still, “Warden’s Vengeance” with all its faults is a suspenseful, exciting book that I both loathe and like. Thus, I’m going to finish this series and will avoid any further fiction by Tony.
This was, unfortunately, a quick and painful read. We’re observing how Wren enters the big – forbidden and foreboding – forest despite her entire family having disappeared in it before.
Even worse: She goes into the forest knowing full well it’s a trap and, “being eight years old and small for her age” she has absolutely nothing to expect but being lost forever herself.
As if that wasn’t enough already, the story feels forced, a lacklustre piece that’s even gory in part which is something I’m definitely not used to when it comes to Michael’s books and other short stories.
Ultimately, it ends with a whimper of a solution that is as forgettable as the entire thing.
Just stay away from this short story and choose from Michael’s other works which are simply marvellous!
“Stories matter – telling them, sharing them, preserving them, changing them, learning from them, and escaping with and through them. We learn about ourselves and the world that we live in through fiction just as much as through facts. Empathy, perception and understanding are never wasted. All libraries are a gateway into other worlds, including the past – and the future.”
It’s been a while since I’ve read a book that featured a passage good enough for an opening quote. And the above passage is just from the Cogman’s acknowledgements at the very beginning. Fortunately, the implicit promise given holds true for this sixth instalment of the series.
Originally, I intended to give this book four stars, maybe mention it’s more like 4.5 but when I thought about what’s missing in this book for the fifth full star, I couldn’t really think of anything. Yes, there’s not much “philosophical depth” to be found in “The Secret Chapter” but when I contemplated that, I realised I’m perfectly fine with that – the entire series is a lot of fun and yet gives some food for thought and sometimes that’s enough.
“The Secret Chapter” is much like its predecessors: Irene’s and Kai’s dynamics are there and some of the others, e. g. Silver and Vale, are making an appearance. Vale, unfortunately, doesn’t feature prominently in this book but considering what it’s about, this makes sense.
Because this time, Irene is sent to acquire a book by doing a Fae lord a favour by stealing a painting. Doesn’t sound very exciting? Well, Irene needs the book to save an entire world; in fact, a world that used to be her safe haven in complicated times – she went to school there and it helped in lot in shaping her. Thus, a heist is planned in the vein of the heist films of old, e. g. “Rififi” or “The Sting”, with a gang consisting of Fae, Irene, Kai – and a rogue dragon! Starts sounding more interesting, eh?
The job seems to go quite well up to a certain turning point at which an already suspenseful novel takes a turn into a fast-paced action thriller which is quite refreshing. Nevertheless, just as I would have hoped and expected, the aptly-named “The Secret Chapter” ultimately turns out to be much more than “just” a heist story or an action thriller. Satisfyingly, it succeeds as well in incorporating Irene’s parents into the story in a good and believable way.
As if all that wasn’t enough, the trademark humour of the series is there as well:
“‘Kai! There’s been a palace revolution and the peasants are attacking!’ Kai gave a deep shuddering sigh and finally opened his eyes properly. ‘Execute them all in the public square,’ he mumbled, clearly still half-asleep.”
If I had to find fault with this book, I’d probably point out that while Irene and Kai are obviously devoted to each other, there are reservations on both their parts. They keep secrets from each other and that’s fine – we all do. The motivation is what counts, though, and at least Irene’s reason to hold back is – at least in part – mistrust or maybe insecurity. I can’t really define it but by the sixth book, I would have wished for more trust and intimacy.
I also like Cogman’s take on Brexit – especially in the grim light of the result of yesterday’s (12.12.2019) general election in the UK:
“‘The United Kingdom?’ ‘Very strongly tied to Europe, which is why CENSOR has an English name and acronym. It did attempt to leave the European Union last year, but apparently that was prompted by demonic interference. A lot of politicians were subsequently tried for treason and beheaded at the Tower of London.’”
While I don’t condone the beheading, I certainly think the divisive short-sighted tactics of a certain hare-brained prime minister will lead to disaster for those who just elected him.
Anyway, coming back to the book, it ends with a twist that I didn’t see coming at all – a twist that isn’t a big deal in an immediate or urgent sense but it has the potential to upset the precious balance that has only so recently been achieved among the worlds and factions.
And yet, it all fits satisfyingly together naturally and in a strangely uplifting way. It’s probably helped by the personal growth Irene shows at the end:
“‘Mother, please, hear me out. If there’s something I’ve learned over the last few years, it’s that everything people do is important. I happen to have chosen this particular thing to do with my life, and I was lucky enough to have the choice.”
Whole-heartedly recommended without reservation to any fan of the series; recommend with minor reservations to those who haven’t read “The Secret Chapter”’s predecessors yet. You would miss out on a lot of minor things so go and read this entire series.
“‘Life was much easier before I had to worry about everyone else worrying,’ Irene muttered. ‘It’s called growing up, dear. It comes with staying alive.’”
It pains me to write this but I didn’t really like “Age of Death”. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad book per se. It’s just that it feels flat and – ironically – lifeless. That’s probably why it took me almost a month to finish it.
“Age of Death” starts where Age of Legend, the previous book, left off with a huge cliffhanger. Now our heroes move on into, uh, a sort of different realm… No, this won’t do: If you haven’t read the previous book yet, stop reading this review here – afterwards spoilers for the series as a whole might lurk!
So, without further ado: Our heroes waded into the pool and died. They now enter the “afterlife” and meander through the different realms of it. This is my first issue: I’m an antitheist. Even if I suspend my disbelief and my opposition to anything related to faith, I’m simply not interested in any such ideas. Michael J. Sullivan is one of my favourite authors but even his ideas on afterlife are irrelevant to me even though I found myself at one time wishing he was right:
“In that world beyond the veil of death, we found that those we had thought to be lost forever had only been misplaced.”
The blurb tells me: “In the tradition of Virgil’s Aeneid, Dante’s Divine Comedy, and Milton’s Paradise Lost, the most epic of tales transcend the world of the living. It’s time to see what lies in Elan’s Age of Death.”
I haven’t read either Virgil, Dante or Milton and I don’t intend to. You might consider me a barbarian or uncultured – whatever: I think the “classics” have mostly outlived themselves and belong to the past from which they originated. Amusingly, it was one of those classic authors who expressed a similar thought in a way that has imprinted itself on me at least 30 years ago and has stayed with me ever since:
“There are truths which are not for all men, nor for all times.” Voltaire, in a letter to Cardinal de Bernis (23 April 1761)
Keep your truths, Dante, and explore your hell but I’m not interested in it. Similarly, I found the ideas Michael expresses somewhat alluring but not really interesting – Brin, Roan, Gifford and the others move through Rel and Nifrel and, yes, have to overcome a lot of obstacles but everything feels slightly off: The pacing is very uneven – there are long passages during which hardly anything happens and then there are huge battles but even those feel somehow anticlimactic – they’re all dead already so what danger is there? Yes, there is the danger of losing oneself by not believing enough in oneself being but instead of exploring that idea, it’s simply presented and – seemingly – forgotten about.
And before I knew it, just before our friends reach their destination, the book ends with yet another cliffhanger. Ok, I half-expected that but in the previous book’s “Author’s Note” Michael explicitly warned us about it but didn’t do so this time so I was hoping…
Apart from the issues I’ve already mentioned there’s the fact that a lot of characters, e. g. Persephone, hardly make an entrance. Yes, we see Persephone “in passing”, so to speak, but she isn’t really around. Nor are many others, like Suri who might have featured very prominently but only did so shortly early on. It was disappointing for me.
And yet… Michael is an amazing author: Whatever he writes about, his storytelling is believable, full of warmth and, well, comforting. If Michael ever did a mystery kickstarter, I’d chime in. Even if I knew nothing and there was no information whatsoever. Because I love how and what Michael writes.
“You want to create?” Nyphron said. Malcolm ignored him. “Just consider what could be done if wars were a thing of the past and everyone worked together.”
Yes, “Age of Death” was a disappointment but I can’t help myself so let me go ahead and say it out loud:
Prerequisites: Basic knowledge of a Unix system architecture; init diversity initiative.
Devember1 it’s coming and for this year (which is also my first year participating) I’ve chosen something really close to me: the init and service manager (called init/rc for the rest of the post). Specifically I’ve chosen to rewrite 66 from scratch.
Notes: In the following paragraphs there is an explanation of what led me to rewrite 66. I was planning to explain this from some time and I’ve taken to opportunity to do so now.
I read one book at a time, always. I simply cannot just “switch” from one book to another anymore. So, if I hit a rotten tomato I tend to actually read less.
I’m typing this on my iPhone. A minute ago, I found myself wondering and thinking, “I usually read at a time like this.” – while I was playing a game. Then it began to dawn on me: ‘How much must you despise a book to fantasise about writing its review on GoodReads while actively trying to avoid reading said book?!‘
The answer in a nutshell: Very much, and the reason is that pretty much everything in this book is bland, wrong and unbalanced.
Let’s start with the supernatural aspects: While I’m in no way superstitious, don’t believe in anything supernatural, I actually greatly enjoyed the ambivalence of the previous instalments in this series. For McGray pretty much everything was at least supernaturally influenced whereas Frey never really believed in anything like that. The resulting strains between both and the different approaches made things interesting. It made for a nice balance.
Even better: De Muriel kept the ambivalence and we never knew for certain if there were supernatural elements or not. We, as readers, could make up our minds ourselves.
In “Darker Arts”, though, Frey and his no-nonsense philosophy clearly dominate the entire book. McGray basically only features as an unhinged clown who has a good idea at times but mostly raves or broods, sometimes attacking people.
Somehow, among complicated family trees, goldmines in Africa and lots of spiteful people the story meanders along, seemingly aimlessly and no progress is being made. At first, our heroes don’t worry but time passes and nothing really seems to be moving anywhere. Lots of false leads, a travesty of a trial and until the sensationalist ending during which Frey miraculously conceives the solution to the crime in a most unbelievable way, de Muriel obviously tries hard to bore us to death.
The solution to the crime is so complicated that de Muriel actually has to resort to having Frey spell everything out to his superior and, thus, us. If an author has to resort to such desperate measures, they’d better gone back and revised their plot.
Plus: Frey is basically constantly bemoaning his uncle’s untimely death during the previous book. The previous book, in fact, overshadows this one as it is being alluded to all the time. So often actually that I became annoyed about it. Yes, I enjoyed “The Loch of the Dead” but it’s not like it would garner de Muriel Nobel the Nobel Prize in Literature…
“Darker Arts” reads like de Muriel has spent all his good ideas. If it wasn’t for certain developments at the very end, I’d say this might be a farewell to the series – McGray receives grim personal news, Frey is impaired by the events of “The Loch of the Dead”, another important character leaves the scene…
Ultimately, considering the bland story, the bad writing and the fact that this book made me read less, I think that’s it for me – Oscar de Muriel just lost a reader for good. Or, to say it with McGray’s constantly repeated words: “Och nae…”
Wow, we’re already at the 18th instalment of this great series. When I picked this book up, I was slightly worried how I would like it, considering that I haven’t exactly had much luck with long-running series this year; the latest Dupin a disappointment almost as badly as the latest Bruno (review here).
Would Deborah Crombie let me down as well? Would she make me wish for Duncan and Gemma, whose exploits I’ve been following for years, to finally ride into the sunset?
The answer, fortunately, is a resounding “NO!”.
Set this time in the Cotswolds – and thus outside Duncan’s and Gemma’s jurisdiction – we find ourselves at Beck House, the summer house of Melody Talbot’s parents, Ivan and Addie. What was planned as a carefree weekend for Duncan, Gemma, Melody and Doug with a charity luncheon turns into something much more sinister when it comes to light that one of the victims of a car accident had already been dead at the time of the collision…
The other victim of said collision is actually Duncan Kincaid himself – fortunately alone in the car at the time. The fact that I just felt compelled to mention he was alone is a strong indicator for one fact: You know you really like a series and its characters when you’re actually truly worrying about what’s going to happen to one of the main characters.
During the entire book which switches perspectives frequently and naturally (meaning you don’t get confused at all!) I was wondering what might happen to Duncan. I was keeping my fingers crossed all the time and worried with Gemma about him.
I’ve always liked her as well and I sympathised even more with her during this book because she constantly has a lot on her plate: She has to organise the kids, has to be a “proper” guest of the Talbots, a friend to several characters in the book and takes part in the investigation with Duncan (both being supported by Melody and Doug, of course!).
It’s not only Gemma, though: Everyone – including even minor character like Kit – get a fair amount of “stage time” and, surprisingly, everyone is actually interesting.
This applies to the local cop, DI Colin Booth as well: Booth, who could have reacted territorially, gladly accepts the help he’s getting from his London colleagues and they, in return, don’t try to take over his investigation. I’m not sure how realistic that actually is but it surely helped with the lively atmosphere.
Booth is smart, down-to-earth and simply very congenial:
““Colin Booth, Gloucester CID. And you are?” Gemma noticed that he hadn’t used his rank, and that in the few moments since he’d arrived he had very unobtrusively loosened the knot in his tie. She was beginning to like Colin Booth.”
So did I.
Even the interludes – describing past events in the lives of some major characters – were actually enjoyable and helped understand current events better.
One sentence, early on, reminded me strongly of the entire series and, especially, this book…
“Down-to-earth food, and delicious, the sort of thing he’d grown up on in Cheshire.”
… which is similarly down-to-earth and delicious.
No, Crombie didn’t let me down and I’m happily awaiting the 19th book!
Let me state clearly where I stand when it comes to Alex Verus: I think he’s the greatest Urban Fantasy protagonist ever.
I’ve enjoyed every single book in the series and I enjoyed this latest instalment as well – just not as much as most of the others, unfortunately.
Why though? The trademark humour is there, Luna is there and so are Anne, Variam, Arachne and others. Sadly, they mostly take a place on the backseat this time.
Luna barely gets any serious “stage” time; she’s generally around and worries a lot but doesn’t get to do or experience much. For such an important character that’s pretty sad.
We do get to see more of Anne who has a more “active” role in the proceedings but she remains unrefined and pale compared to many other characters. Maybe part of that is my own perception, though; I’ve never felt that Anne added much to the books – she always felt like the obligatory love interest and I never found her especially interesting. It’s probably because of that I don’t care very much about the role she plays in this tenth book.
Personally, I think even the air elemental Starbreeze – who is FINALLY back in this book – is a lot more interesting and even more important.
The story is rather simple as well: The war between Britain’s Light Council and Richard Drakh is ongoing and Alex comes to realise he will have to step up his game and make some hard decisions in order to actually achieve at least some of his goals and protect those he loves.
And that he does: He plunges head first into the action and does what has to be done – the personal consequences – as of yet unclear – be damned. The personal and character changes these bring are subtly shown by Jacka and that’s a large part of why I still enjoyed this book.
One of the major downsides can best be illustrated by a direct quote from the book:
“I looked at the house for a moment longer, feeling as though a very old piece of unfinished business had just come to an end.”
Reading many parts of this book makes me feel exactly like that: “Being on a clock” (as Alex puts it) – because we’re nearing the end of the series – makes Jacka pick up loose threads from earlier books (so loose I often didn’t even remember them…) and put quite some effort into resolving them. That, in itself, is commendable but I’d rather have had some real character development beyond Alex himself and that is sorely lacking in “Fallen”, unfortunately.
Jacka is setting up his stage for the final books, makes previous characters reappear (cf. Starbreeze or Meredith), makes some others disappear (and that one character to boot! How dare he!) and is generally preparing to move on to greener pastures. That we feel this in the tenth of twelve planned books is a bit premature, I think.
Maybe, though, it’s again me who already feels saddened by the thought of having to say goodbye to Alex Verus whose adventures have brightened up my reading time.
Last but not least, don’t worry if you’re a fan – you will enjoy “Fallen” (aptly titled!) as it’s fast-paced, suspenseful and features much of what we came to love. I just wish it had been less of a “blast from the past” and more of a future-oriented book.
If you’re new to Alex Verus, don’t start with this book, though. This is one of those series you need to read in order.
“‘Who the hell are you?’ Geralt asked again, leaning forward. ‘What are you doing… in this forest? How did you get here?’ The girl lowered her head and sniffed loudly. ‘Cat got your tongue? Who are you, I said? What’s your name?’ ‘Ciri,’ she said, sniffing.”
Once more we return to Geralt of Rivia, the eponymous Witcher, and his deeds. Mostly, though, “Sword of Destiny” serves to define Geralt with respect to his friends. We get to meet Dandelion again, and, of course, Geralt and Yennefer of Vengerberg cross paths several times as they are… Well, whatever they are, they certainly don’t know themselves.
Most importantly, though, Geralt meets Ciri, the Child of the Elder Blood, for the first time. Ciri, who will become so important in Geralt’s life. We meet her three times throughout the stories in this book which are loosely connected to each other but mostly show us who Geralt truly is.
The more I read, the more loose threads I dimly remembered from the entire saga actually turned out to be picked up and resolved. I liked this book the first time I read it but I only came to really appreciate its narrative depth and immersion this second time around. Whereas Geralt – to me at least – was a very likeable person, he really grew on me and I deeply sympathized with this fictious man.
Especially fascinating were his travels with Yurga, a travelling merchant he rescues, and on whom he invokes the Law of Surprise (for those (yet!) unenlightened among you: That means Geralt – as a reward – asks for something his debtor finds at home but didn’t expect, e. g. a child.). What is revealed as part of that voyage about Geralt is fairly astounding and deeply moving.
I was engrossed with the switches of perspective – Geralt alternatingly hallucinating and being clear-headed. When the borders between what he imagines and what’s real get murkier, the story becomes almost philosophical and we cannot ever be sure what was actually real and what was not. And, in fact, this is not being resolved. It’s up to the reader to decide for himself which makes me feel the author takes me seriously and I greatly appreciate that.
Ultimately, this is probably the best introduction any fantasy hero could hope for. What starts lightly and with witty sarcasm by “monsters”…
“‘That is right,’ the dragon interrupted. ‘Well, it’s the times we live in. For some time, creatures, which you usually call monsters, have been feeling more and more under threat from people. They can no longer cope by themselves. They need a Defender. Some kind of… witcher.’“
… goes to great length to end on a very serious and positive tone:
“‘It’s like they said! Geralt! It’s like they said! Am I your destiny? Say it! Am I your destiny?’
Yurga saw the Witcher’s eyes. And was very astonished. He heard his wife’s soft weeping, felt the trembling of her shoulders. He looked at the Witcher and waited, tensed, for his answer. He knew he would not understand it, but he waited for it. And heard it.
‘You’re more than that, Ciri. Much more.’”
Neither Geralt nor Ciri actually know at this point how right they are and, thus, I strongly encourage you, dear reader, to join them on their journey…
“Der Blaue Lotus” entstand im Jahr 1934 und wurde bereits 1946 erneut überarbeitet und es wurden wiederum auch inhaltliche Änderungen vorgenommen.
Auch hier versucht Hergé wieder eine “runde” Geschichte zu erzählen, doch leider mißlingt ihm das gründlich: Die Story besteht in wesentlichen Teilen aus Tims fortgesetzter Flucht und Wieder-Inhaftierung. Ein Entkommen ist dabei absurder als das Vorangegangene.
Erstmals allerdings – und das spürt man wohltuend – hat Hergé sich nicht mehr einzig auf “Erlesenes” oder ihm Berichtetes verlassen, sondern hat sich – obschon nicht ganz ohne Druck – mit seiner Materie beschäftigt.
War also bisher der Kolonialismus und Imperialismus uneingeschränkt gut und allenfalls die “edlen Wilden” als Relikte einer im Untergehen begriffenen und “minderwertigen” Kultur geduldet, schlägt das Pendel nun mehr in die andere Richtung aus – Hergé versucht sich mit Hilfe seines Freundes Zhang Chongren, einem chinesischem Künstler, ein besseres Bild zu machen und sich von bornierten Vorurteilen zu verabschieden. Er tut dies auf recht “platte” und naive Weise, aber – und das muß man sich bei der Beurteilung immer vor Augen halten – Hergé ist nun einmal Kind seiner Zeit und muß jedes Quäntchen Freiheit mühsam erringen.
Daß Hergés Bestreben ernst und – unter obigen Aspekten betrachtet – grundsätzlich gelungen ist, ist schon daran zu ermessen, daß er den sog. Boxeraufstand von Tims Freund Tschang historisch korrekt als “Fäuste der Gerechtigkeit [und Harmonie]” bezeichnen läßt, womit er deutlich macht, die Geschichte nicht nur zu verstehen, sondern auch mit der Sache zu sympathisieren – in früheren Bänden hätten alle Nicht-Europäer in “Pidgin” vom “Boxlaufstand” (o. ä.) gesprochen.
So interessant all das auch ist – über seine Sympathie und Freundschaft ist Hergé leider seine Geschichte aus den Fugen geraten: Weder taugt die vorliegende Erzählung als alleinstehender Band, noch gewinnt sie durch die Einbettung in den Kontext der “Zigarren des Pharaos” dessen Fortsetzung sie eigentlich sein soll.
Schulze und Schultze sind auch wieder mit dabei; auch hier wieder zwar als Freunde, aber als Widersacher, die Tim im Auftrag einer korrupten Kolonialbehörde verhaften sollen und dies ganz im Sinne des “Kadavergehorsams” wider besseres Wissen versuchen: “Und um Ihnen zu sagen, daß wir Sie nie für schuldig gehalten haben! Aber Befehl ist Befehl!”
(“Bauz, Bitches!” – wie meine Tochter sagen würde)
Für Fans vielleicht das Richtige, für mich nicht wirklich.
In this sixth instalment of Regan’s Josie Quinn series a child is abducted in a rather complex way and more “surprises” await Josie and her team during the investigation because not everything is as it looks at the beginning…
At least it’s not like it looks to Josie or anyone on her team because very early on there is a horrible give-away as to the reasons of the abduction which made me see a lot of the things to come right from the start. That was a huge let-down and while there’s still a lot of suspense, it severely detracted from the potential this book showed.
This is especially disappointing for me as I’ve really enjoyed “following” Josie during her cases so far. While the books in this series never had much depth and were at no point intellectually challenging, they were suspenseful, often surprising and never dull.
Compared to other cases, though, this one – while not exactly dragging on – isn’t quite as fast-paced. All the more so if one considers the tumultuous events of the previous book.
What’s missing as well are the actual characters on Josie’s team: While Noah, Gretchen, Mettner, Lamay and Chitwood, are all there, they mostly seem to be lacking their earlier personalities. For some reason I don’t really understand Noah is still injured and while he was an idiot during the previous book, now he’s a softie. Gretchen hardly ever gets into the limelight; Chitwood, Josie’s boss, isn’t his usual abrasive self either and I had to look up the others as they were unrecognisably shallow.
There’s hardly anything going on in Josie’s private life and the one potentially major development that could have become great limps away whimpering because Regan didn’t have the courage to go through with it.
All in all, while this is not a bad book in itself, it’s just a disappointment as I’ve come to expect more from Regan. It’s a lukewarm instalment in this series that can be skipped without really missing anything.
Der vorliegende Band, “Die Zigarren des Pharaos”, entstand im Jahr 1932 und wurde 1955 überarbeitet und koloriert. Dabei wurden auch geringfügige inhaltliche Änderungen vorgenommen, die aber der Geschichte keinen Abbruch tun.
Tatsächlich ist dieser Band der erste, der eine konsistente und unterhaltsame Geschichte erzählt und nicht mehr die vorher übliche Ansammlung von mehr oder minder lose verknüpften Szenen.
Erstmals tauchen auch die ersten altbekannten Figuren auf: Hier sind es die tollpatschigen Detektive Schulze und Schultze, die jedoch über weite Teile des Bandes Tim festnehmen wollen und ihm – im Gegensatz zu späteren Bänden der Reihe – nicht oder nur aus wenig altruistischen Gründen helfen.
Auch eine Premiere: Dies ist der erste Band, der mich wirklich unterhalten und mir Spaß gemacht hat.
Basically, the blurb says it all – a (book) hoarder in a post-apocalyptic world lives among his tons of books and realises he’ll have to burn some of them. Unfortunately, he’s not the brightest bulb (not even in a world without power!) and, thus, disaster happens.
This is a nice-ish short story without any connection to Michael’s other works. It pretty much lives from the setting (books filling a small house entirely – sans a few “paths” – lovely though in theory!), the “name-dropping” (all the big post-modern names appear) and the central dilemma of burning books.
The latter is this short story’s saving grace in my book because as Heinrich Heine, the great German poet, wrote as early as 1823 (and, thus, eerily predicting the Holocaust):
“Dort wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.” (“Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned.”)
Might be worth a read if the above sounds interesting to you but, honestly, you won’t really miss much if you skip this one. If, though, you’ve reached the point at which you secretly (cough) adore the ground Michael treadslevitates above, it’s a must-read.
Two years ago, I somehow came across “Still Life”, the first in a series about Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Sûreté du Quebec, Canada. It was a good book, no doubt, and I was quick to catch up with the series which I greatly enjoyed.
What I expected to be a standard police procedural turned out to be so much more. Gamache isn’t the young, enthusiastic investigator but a man in his fifties who has experienced a lot and instead of becoming disillusioned, embittered or hopeless as one might expect, he grows.
“Things are strongest where they’re broken.” is how Gamache puts it and how he lives – and he himself has been broken a lot of times. He’s not the “Gentleman police officer” that George’sLynley is (or used to be). He’s not Rankin’s cynical Inspector Rebus.
Armand Gamache is a literary unicum.
In this fifteenth novel of the series, Gamache investigates the disappearance of a young woman who is beaten by her husband. She is soon found dead and so is her murderer. If he can be convicted, though, is not quite as certain…
As always, Gamache’s home, the small village “Three Pines”, and its inhabitants play a role (albeit less prominently than in some of the other books) and we get treated to all the familiar characters like Ruth, the semi-insane poet, Clara, the artist, and, of course, Jean-Guy Beauvoir and Isabelle Lacoste.
The relationships between the characters are another of the major highlights of this series: The closely-knit and yet open, welcoming and open-minded community of “Three Pines” is the fictious place we would love our kids to grow up in.
These books live from the relationships so lovingly depicted and the almost mythical quality of “Three Pines”.
As with every one of her Gamache novels, Penny has a fundamental topic which might not continually take a centre place but which will surface throughout the novel. In this case it’s vigilantism – how do the central characters deal with it themselves when most seriously tempted; when all it would take is looking away at the right moment…
“It was all Jean-Guy Beauvoir could do not to turn around. March back to […]. Tell Armand and Reine-Marie and Billy to look away while he forced […] to a kneeling position, took out his gun. Placed it at the base of the monster’s skull. And fired.”
And – how would we deal with it? Would we give in to the temptation? I’m going to admit it: I for one was sympathising with Beauvoir at that (rather early!) point in the story. I hope I’d do as he does…
Would we be able to face the consequences of our deeds?
““Consequences,” said Gamache. “We must always consider the consequences of our actions. Or inaction. It won’t necessarily change what we do, but we need to be aware of the effect.”
Ultimately, though, both Gamache and Beauvoir disregard exactly that advice and that’s part of what so greatly appeals to me about those two men: When they feel they have to act, they’re just going to do it – no matter the consequences because it’s the right thing to do:
“Homer plowed right through them, running straight into the Bella Bella. Wading in. Breaking through the thin ice at the shore, he fought his way forward. To get to his little girl.
Gamache and Beauvoir plunged in after him.”
Even if that means plunging into a flooding river – and Penny pulls that off effortlessly. She has given each character her books so much personality that we never – not for a second – doubt they would do this. It’s another one of the immense strengths of Penny’s story-telling – she is a master of characterisation.
As similar both Gamache and Beauvoir are, they are different kinds of investigators which is another highly interesting aspect of the Gamache novels:
“While Jean-Guy Beauvoir explored the tangible, what could be touched, Armand Gamache explored what was felt. He went into that chaotic territory. Hunting. Searching. Tracking. Immersing himself in emotions until he found one so rancid it led to a killer.
Beauvoir stopped at the door. Gamache went through it.”
All this may sound intimidating if you’re just in it to read a good mystery but do not despair because while there’s lots of serious wisdom and kindness to be found in these books, they never take themselves too seriously and there’s always a good portion of humour involved:
“Isabelle. Jean-Guy. Armand. Three colleagues. Three friends. A trinity. Sturdy. Eternal. Together. “Three Pines,” she said. “Three Stooges,” said Ruth as she walked by and entered the bistro.”
As usual, there are very few things not to like about a Gamache novel but there are two minor issues in this one: First of all, there’s a huge flooding. Basically, the entire province of Quebec is in a state of emergency and we get to read quite a bit about it in the first half of the book. This entire part of the story is pretty much completely neglected in the second half. It’s not a big deal but it’s a loose end that could easily have been avoided.
A little more annoying were the weird and superfluous injections of Twitter messages at the beginning of a few chapters. They didn’t really add to the story and they were an unwelcome distraction. I don’t get why some authors these days seem to believe they cannot write a good modern book without directly adding social media parts. Especially when they obviously don’t quite grasp how said social media work (in a technological sense).
Nevertheless, these are really minor issues that simply don’t matter considering Louise Penny’s achievement by writing yet another, the fifteenth (!), absolutely fabulous book.