I was already familiar with this. Both the general intellect, as well as from having watched the film with Hawke in it a while ago. But the plot beats are more-or-less the same. So this isn’t a “fresh” reading.

That said. I did really enjoy the reading experience of this and there were more granular surprises. Probably due to the fact it was serialized initially, there are so many juxtapositions and twists and turns. Admittedly, it’s a bit melodramatic but it does a good job of establishing the tone and texture of the fiction early on. If it hadn’t, this would absolutely feel more funny and silly and camp.

Instead, the characters, though well drawn and gregarious in expressing their inner natures, kind of feel like symbols and notions and ideas on collision courses. The result of which is the predominate feeling of this being plot driven rather than character driven, even as it tries to obfuscate that plot with his character development.

But how much could Pip really influenced his life when one of the main drives is how classism pigeon holes people into making the choices that they do. You can’t really have it both ways, can you? If circumstance is the forge, it feels odd to enunciate so much that Pip should just be nice. It feels a bit milquetoast after all the actual social movement he managed.

Regardless, this is a very fun read. Very engaging. Descriptive and flourishing, characters that pop off the page. And as mentioned: twists and turns in a dark and old London.

A great introduction to a writer. Parables and short stories in an arrangement of eclectic prose, themes, and tone. Some truly excellent sentences that I highlighted and will figure out how to share from the kindle. Effective at making the reader think about all manner of subjects with the story as a point of reference. Enjoyable, easy to consume, great layout and period art. Will read more by Pae for sure, should another more books come through.

An interesting concept—writers at a retreat gone wrong using short stories as an allegory for what might be happening, as they sabotage the group in a social experiment, ostensibly. That’s really reductive, but more approaches spoiler territory, I think, since I think what is happening at the meta level is necessarily more interesting than the stories.

It’s a weird experience because I didn’t find myself interested in the stories, other than to figure out what was being communicated about the situation with the writers. The premise hobbles the stories immediately, even if it is interesting to put stories in the position of communicating truth about “the world”. Yet, that removal makes every story impossible to suspend your disbelief for, too. Instead, they’re just simulacrums of the specific writer.

This makes everything compelling at a macro, meta level, and as a reflection of society and what happens when people go off script in society. However, I don’t think any of the stories will stick with me, nor were they particularly moving or effective. They all felt like white noise in this structure. Sure, it’s clever, as I haven’t read anything quite like it. But I’m not sure the message is new, and it undermines its own short stories. People devolve without society. With the internet we can see everyday just what anonymity does to some people. Not exactly revelatory. But I do think this book succeeds at what it was trying to do.

3.5 rounded up

Another solid entry with a good ending and way more interesting climax than the first. The allegory of the magic school and the point about working together in a capitali-I mean system where the rich and powerful survive and the poor kids, without networking literally die from monsters—is much better articulated in this follow up, imo.

There’s a couple bit picky things about the teens relationship, such as the oh-no-we-can’t-communicate-properly-in-a-perfunctory-way trope. But it is pretty different, in many ways, from other things in the genre, so it’s not as annoying as it often can be. Other than that, it’s a bit overwritten, but a fun romp, return.

While the thematic connect feels managed by all three parts, across 5 (I think?) narrators, in worlds possibly connected (we’ll never know, since the author focuses on the granular human experience and does perfunctory worldbuilding), there are numerous structural issues.

Primarily, with the change in styles from each, the middle section is just lacking prose wise, and the subject matter less well handled. It was an absolute grind to get through. In the third section, the voice is most captivating for the epistolary account, yet the form is bay far the most contrived, especially when attempting to convey world building in sloppy ways (as you know:, etc.). But the section as a whole manages to draw together the thematic intent quite well. And we actually feel situated in the time, unlike the previous two sections.

So, if you are solely interested in granular human interactions and thematic connective tissue, I think you’d like this very much.

If you need description of the world and for the world building to be well handled, and want a practical way of connecting each section, you will absolutely not get on with this. It has sophomoric issues you see with sci-fi novels combined with literary issues, such as being unable to figure out how to do exposition in an organic manner.

If you are a theme reader, you are going to find gold here.

If you’re a character reader, it’ll be a mix, I think. It’s possible you’ll get on with every character, but I didn’t. The spectre at the feast that is theme haunts their thoughts and emotions. But the prose and interactions are wonderfully drawn.

And if you’re a plot reader, you will probably hate it; as the stories exist merely for thematic cohesion. There is no complete plot, nor is pacing generally a factor.

If you require all three to be adequate or great: Run.

Solid children’s fantasy on all fronts, but it begins to coalesce pretty late in a far too formulaic manner designed to hook people with a cliffhanger. 70% setup 20% B plot payoff 10% hook for the next book. By no means bad, and I’ll read the next book even; It’s just a pacing mechanic that doesn’t work well for me. I expect with the setup behind us the second book will appeal more.

Great first half, kind of becomes a bit disjointed and shifts perspective and tense when the focus of the novel shifts to an individual in the sweat lodge who disengages and leaves. While it’s interesting, it also felt a bit abrupt and odd, especially as it goes on and culminates into a sort of prescriptive parable. It would have been much stronger if it had stayed for the completion of the sweat, I feel. But after a while it did make some sense.

The fact that this is review bombed by people claiming Silva is “inserting his own politics” was what made me pick this up. I had not heard of this series at all previously. I just had to know what people were talking about because this is a espionage thriller. What is inherently more political and propagandist than that in commercial American literature? Maybe war and military fiction directly? Not much else…

Imagine my surprise when, upon reading this I found it to be completely serviceable commercial fiction espionage thriller, in line with all the others I’ve read. Though this is the first from this author, specifically. It’s frenetically paced, accessible, standard in prose work, and has a slightly contrived plot. Pretty much what I expected.

Set in contemporary times, the fiction is far more critical of foreign powers, specifically certain Russians, than Trump, which in comparison is handled with complete kid gloves. Towards the very, very end other factors, foreshadowed, come to bare. But primarily that is to do with qanon. Trump in relation to the disturbing American phenomenon is referenced in regards to playing into the fracturing of political parties and rhetorics. Or perhaps a certain congresswoman embroiled in the plot had people angry?

Either way, I think it’s good at vilifying powerful figures and political thought in both countries, ultimately. It’s message is decent and the handling of subjects completely fair. Especially in a genre where literally each person is the embodiment of a political machination, butting up against another. To believe that any of the works in the genre are apolitical is indefensible and absurd. And to be critical of components of the political apparatus is, arguably, what this genre has always been about. Baffling.

And then, in the end, Silva provides actual citations, where he voices his own opinions concluded from the evidence he cites. That section is completely divorced from the fiction. It’s not any of the characters voicing any of it whatever. It’s like reading an introduction or afterward and then conflating it with the actual fiction. I doubt most of these reviewers even bothered to read the book. Laughable.

A novel of well realized interiority, where we spend most of our time in the head of a married woman in Japan who feels trapped by her domestic existence. A rift has formed between her husband and most of her time is spent looking after the kids; a job the husband devalues while he works 15 hour days.

When the relationship is pushed repeatedly, after numerous cyclical arguments and a constant ineffective communication ritual fails—she allows herself time and space to expand her life in an additional direction: A new relationship with a man who pursues her. Unsure wether it is a friendship or affair, the mere possibility of the new allows her to rediscover who she is from an outsider’s perspective. Subsequently surfacing thoughts of her past.

This was smart in a few ways. The prose captured her emotions well, and the interactions—the perspicacity around the foreign substance of a new individual orbiting your life—were Rooneyesque, at times. I think it’s very astute in depicting how much we become the reflection shown to us by the people we have entrenched our lives. There is a dire need for people in different roles. To be always a known quantity and no more, wife, mother, etc. makes a person believe that there was never anything to their identity except those roles because that is the only feedback they ever receive.

The fault lines is a very apt metaphor, then. Physically, she (and everyone) is terrified the next earthquake will end her existence. Emotionally, the damage of repressing who she is for so long has caused immense distress, and her own earthquake, though tumultuous and painful, also enables her to feel something different, and to use that feedback to finally understand who she is and where she is now, in her life.