John le Carre is a master at knowing when to cut a scene and what to leave out, how to give just enough information to make you pay attention and figure things out. The way he layers out information can be as puzzling as life but not so puzzling that, even listening, you can't keep track. Except with this book. I recommend it as a book to read rather than to hear because it jumps around in time and place so quickly and frequently that the listener is constantly playing catch-up, especially if you listen while doing something else and your attention is split.
Those who find the book fully absorbing might be OK with it. It's harder to follow the narrative thread if you're not invested in the main character, Oliver Single. He's a cipher, a blank slate on which others write. That's his purpose in the book. He might summon up some backbone in the end--I won't know until I get a hard copy from the library and finish reading with my eyes instead of my ears.
The main strength is that Michael Jayston is such a good narrator that you will know who is talking even when you don't know where or when the scene is occurring.
This book is the "I met disaster and came through it a better person" memoir genre, its popularity reminiscent of "Eat, Pray, Love." It's vividly written and the narrator is highly competent, but I couldn't stand listening. Instead of sounding like a woman in her mid-twenties, Dunne sounds like a 65-year-old with forty years behind her of a pack-a-day smoking habit. Her voice is truly like sandpaper.
I lost sympathy with and interest in Strayed's trail bumblings early in the book. You only have to carry a book-pack around on a college campus for a day to understand that weight matters. Or pack a suitcase and shlep it around an airport. Yet it never occurred to her to try out her backpack and contents before she set out to walk the PCT? We learn about the weight of the pack and its effect in exhaustive detail.
Fortunately, it might be possible to read just the back story in the print version.
When I first started listening, I thought, "Oh no, another man-against-irrational-communist-bureaucracy story." Then I started to chuckle. Then I laughed out loud and was completely hooked on the series. This book is a fresh take on classic conventions. The detective is one stubbornly honest man in a corrupt world. He must constantly get around the dictates of his boss. (You will love the name.) The craziness of communist rules satirize our own. What stands out brilliantly is the character of Siri, which sounds like "Silly." He's a cheerful person with a lively sense of irony and a connection to the spirit world that veers from absurd to menacing. All the other characters are drawn with depth. Relationships shift and develop. These are people you want to live with through book after book. And, oh yes, there is a mystery in each novel.
I recommend this series to anyone who enjoys Tarquin Hall's Vish Puri series or Ruth Downie's Medicus Fortunately it avoids some of the problems that plague the latter.
I approached with anticipation--wonderful title--quickly grew bored, but slogged on for a while. The rakish, ne'er-do-well protagonist takes on a job against his better judgment. All goes wrong, of course. People lie, he gets arrested, he gets kidnapped and beaten, he makes a clever escape, he discovers more layers of lies, etc. This is a time-honored formula that requires interesting, well-drawn characters, a clever stylist, and/or some kind of emotional grabber early in the story to make the formula fresh. This novel has none of those characteristics. And the protagonist is puzzling about the significance of plaster monkeys when there's a prized first edition of Dashiel Hammett framed on his wall? Duh! It's not badly done; it's merely so boring that I don't care "who dunnit."
Unlike Newman's Dracula book (I didn't find Anno Dracula interesting), this one is fast-paced, humorous and worth a listen for the bon mots alone. Colonel Moran is hilariously amoral and cynical. The Holmes-Watson world is turned inside-out. Moriarity, for instance, cultivates wasps and takes great satisfaction in their deadly effects on experimental subjects. The action rushes along a little too quickly in places. I don't know if I cared whether there was any action at all; I was that captivated by the language.
I didn't mind the slow start that bothered others. By the time the action began picking up and something significant happened--relevant! a statement! important in the world!--I was so sick of the tiresome, navel-gazing protagonist that I lost interest. Will she be jailed? Bring back hanging for this character and her lover. She certainly needs major editing to rid the book of those endless what-ifs and pointless speculations that even the peerless Juliet Stevenson cannot save. The story gives an accurate portrait of a woman obsessed with someone, a woman of status and accomplishment who thought herself confident and self-possessed becoming as nutty as any teenager. But good literature needs more than accuracy and this book doesn't have it. Instead of creating tension, the hook at the beginning merely results in impatience. Without it, would anyone get past the first few pages or minutes?
This is Downie's best yet. Without losing any of the humor of the his tactlessness or inability to "control your wife," the Medicus' character is more consistent with his actions than in the previous books. He has lost the sad-sack bumbling that belonged to a less intelligent character. Humor, horror, and danger are perfectly balanced. I sped through this one, listening every chance I could get, completely absorbed in the all-too-modern politics of the Roman Empire; the characters; and of course, the plot.
I'm comparing this book to Gone With the Wind for the way it focuses intensely on a small group of people, through them showing the effects of a ruinous war. The book gives us personal melodramas enacted throughout changing times. Our personal absorption in these characters makes each event of the war all the more shocking. Although it's overly long, the extraneous details are absorbing, thanks to Robin Miles' brilliant narration through which each voice becomes a fully realized character.
This book might win runner-up in the bad Hemingway contest. " I thought of Maria. I checked the .9 mm in my shoulder holster. I needed the .45, but it was lost somewhere in the sea of dust bunnies under Stella's bed." All read in a gravelly monotone that is supposed to sound hard-boiled.
The hero is a wounded soul. Check. Everyone's a bad guy. Check. Everyone's corrupt. Check. A few have a spark of integrity. Check. I cannot finish. Check.
This is a popular science book that expertly combines research with anecdote. I thought I wouldn't mind the narrator but after an hour, couldn't stand any more of her. She reads in a hushed, whispery voice (reverence for the death of species?) with little change in intonation, expertly combining boredom with irritation.
In a great book, the author knows what to leave unsaid. This book would be improved by cutting half the overly detailed and sometimes overwrought description. You could practically hear the violins playing in the background when hero and heroine meet. We already know from previous heavy hints that they are to be star-crossed. Description sets scene and mood, but each detail should also serve a purpose in moving the story forward. There may be an engrossing story buried here, but I lost interest.
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