I do not know even after all these pages whether the translation sucks or the whole thing misses the mark ?

it feels like when you go to an elaborate dinner served by a drunk foodie couple whose overambitious menu features dishes with expensive and exotic ingredients that they just can't quite pull off while inebriated and interacting with their guests. Stuff comes to the table late, under or over-cooked. The dialogue is banal, and what should tickle the senses falls flat.

if you put a post-it over the author's name you might think Dan Brown and Clive Cussler's manuscripts got misfed in adjacent Xerox machines that spat out the pages and the people who came upon the papers scattered about published the stuff they picked up off the floor and shuffled back together.