So,  a tonne of philosophy and satirical philosophy, modern political criticism (of the world scene during the 1980s), and philosophical questioning of origin and purpose; we are slain with the importance of understanding the difference between the philosophy of communism and the dichotomised practice of same in the 20th Century throughout Asia & Europe. 

Kundera is a shocking writer. His prose flows easily, and the novel-slash-socio-cultural-commentary is a quick read, while at the same time heavy, sometimes-intellectual, sometimes-pseudo-intellectual, and overall consuming in the way that makes you want to drop the book and have a political-religious-philosophical debate every 10 pages or so. 

The reduction of mankind to a physical being is jarringly perverse. The subsequent misinterpretations of principles of multiple philosophies, most particularly the Judaeo-Christian creation story is downright laughable, based on culturally-driven humanistic interpretations so far removed from context they lose all meaning as love is lost and basic human compassion is swallowed up in soulless existentialism. And as self-sacrificing love is the point of these ancient stories, well, therein we find the clinch-pin of misguided communist practice in societies misinterpreting its philosophy... 

But then, this is a study (glorification?) of Nietzsche, as presented in the possible real lives of real people who suffered under communist occupation and their own battle to know self in the midst of complicated philosophical confusion and the enervating process of losing their souls to an oppressive political regime. 

Apt that this novel was published in 1984, with undercurrents of Orwell’s 1984 permeating every thought, interrogation, and self-gratifying relationship. Squeeze out selfless love and true compassion, reduce a people to a workforce through oppression, and yes, the surgeon will lose the art of his craft in favour of cleaning windows, the artist will suppress her ability to express beauty in favour of reproducing images of conformity. 

Here, we see the loss and pain caused by wholly self-serving individuals who base their actions on self-satisfaction, doing their best to remove the ‘other’ from the equation, convincing self that the others affected by their self-serving actions do not hurt, they cannot be marred—and at every page turn, an’other’ is suffering their own internal agony because of repetitive selfish behaviours…oh... 

Kundera’s criticism hits hard, and the result is a hopeless meandering through a pointless life riddled with meaningless politics and vain liturgy, emptying every human swallowed up in these philosophies of their very soul, delivering them up unto the great nothingness of a vacuous existence. 

At least, we conclude in tandem, there is companionship in dogs who don’t have a selfish bone in their weak and futile bodies… and we, the incomparable human race are beaten down, divided, oppressed, and reduced to asking: might the divine be found in such a simple creature?

Some parts genius with a whole lot of intentional (genius-inspired) gibberish in between… 

I listened to the audio—which was made bearable by the Welsh accents. I do love a Welsh accent. But that’s about all the good I can say for this little novel aimed at 9-12 year old readers.
 
The characters have nothing going for them, do not compel my affection, and are so uncompromisingly accepting of their pathetic situations leaving ‘the internal battle of the self’ outside the realm of possibility. Major events take place without precedent or explanation, and the story moves forward as if nothing has occurred. 
 
I’ve read Roald Dahl, CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, JK Rowling, and other masters of children’s literature (2 of whom the author sat under in her studies), and I find none of their genius or storytelling gift in these pages. It may seem a harsh criticism, but I was pre-reading this as an option for my 12 year old niece, and my disappointment is palpable. I must express… 
 
Apart from the puerile nonsensical tone of the story, with it’s enchanted house that can’t stay in one place (for no apparent reason) and its womanising co-protagonist, this short novel is jam-packed with blatant atheist undertones (like, more than Philip Pullman, if you can believe it) and peppered with how-tos for practical witchcraft (including descriptions of drawing and manipulating a pentagram)—if all this is what you want to fill your child’s mind with. Personally, it’s not something I’m going to recommend.

The best I can say is that it makes an attempt to be creative and entertaining, though the root motive comes across loud and clear.

An absolutely brilliant story! It’s for stories like this one that King is known as America’s great storyteller of this era. 

 

Immediately, we are hooked and along for the unfolding mysterious ride to Tim’s redemption. Only, Tim’s story isn’t the only story we’re getting in this well-crafted novel. 

 

Enter Luke. A compelling young prodigy, a genius before his age, with some difficulty at social engagement with children his own age, but that’s to be expected for someone of his intellect. 

 

And then all hell breaks loose… 

 

King tells this story with PERFECT pace, dropping details and hints in at just the right moments, introducing Dickensian characters that enhance the plot and add to its complexities. 

 

A dark, ominous, and multi-layered adventure full of pointed political criticism, crafty satire, and humorous relief when necessary. 

I loved the Daevabad trilogy. While the plot was engaging, intelligently complex and unexpected, the characters were the heart of the story. It was a delight to revisit several of them in this compendium of additional stories, hear bits we didn’t know from their histories, be enlightened to moments overlooked in the trilogy, or enjoy an alternate epilogue. This short collection is a nice companion to a series that sparkles to me from my shelf, tempting me to read it again… Soon…

Confession: I’ve been turned off by the brusque or gruesome horror content of some of King’s novels in the past. Just not my thing. Well. There’s not much of that here. Not much of anything here…

It all started relatable, turned a bit predictable, and then began to feel like, wait a minute, I’ve heard this story somewhere before, but I can’t put my finger on it…and while it remained ‘creative’ throughout, it was just not to my liking.

This novel was often preteen-boy-crass without need (why must I read about ‘fat ugly women’ farting? and there, now you’ve had to read it too). The evil characters were caricatures of irredeemable monster-like ogres—hefty manly women to contrast the ‘slender beautiful blonde’ heroine. Eye-roll. It seems lazy to create characters who lack complexity, and as far as I know, King is far from a lazy author. Was he writing for a younger audience here and I missed the memo? I get the feeling a thirteen year old boy would enjoy this more than me…even then, let’s not insult the blossoming generation’s intellect…

It was slightly reminiscent of the Fairyland adventure portion of Cordelia Funke’s trilogy of ‘other’ world adventures with Maggie and friends in the Inkheart series. But in King’s adventure, I wasn’t given enough info and depth to care for this playground of convenient characters; I wasn’t provoked to any attachment to them …apart from Bowditch, the dog, and maybe Charlie’s dad. Sort of. But not much.

It was not beautifully nor poetically written. King is a good storyteller, no doubt, and he knows how to shove emotions into place (if a bit predictable) and certainly has a knack for raising bile, but his writing isn’t arresting in this story in any way and overall, the delivery lacks appeal. It’s rather full of cliches and dated references (though they have a purpose), and so very entrenched in Americanisms that I feel you really have to relate to enjoy it…and I couldn’t.

And then he insulted Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Was that meant to be ironic? Sadly, I couldn’t tell. I hope it was a stab at irony (though failed) showing the character’s lack of culture and one-dimensional intellect, but I can’t be sure. It should be concerning for any aspiring young female authors, and any who would laud the 19 year old Shelley when she wrote her genius tale (which is far superior to, and will outlast this one for centuries to come).

… this is a story we’ve all heard somewhere else before, and there is nothing new here to thrill or pull us, and as entertainment goes, this is of the American truck-stop dime-store variety. Ew. 

Nothing against the author for his other stellar works, sure, but this one was no name ketchup on an imitation meat burger.

Wow, this one ends on a superb cliffhanger. 

The novelty of the writing style, that clipped frantic storytelling, has begun to wear off, but the stories have subsequently become more complex—so it balances out. 

I love the setting and would have liked to hear more on this particular setting in North Skye, but (for legitimate reasons) we don’t get much beyond the castle grounds. Not even a bored seal to entertain with his lazy antics. 

In his sparse and text-y style, Huchu appeals to gen-z youth, gets straight to the point, and manages to fill his pages with unique descriptions of oddball people and incredible places in this alternate reality Scotland. The sisterhood between Ropa and Priya grows, and while several personal demons are faced, bonds outwith mature and produce positive dividends…. can’t wait for the next… 

Chilling. 

 

The story moves at a slow but absorbing pace with often beautiful writing. As a fan of Stoker’s original Dracula, I loved the continuation of the legend, the possibility that things didn’t end with the final words of Jonathan Harker’s tale at the closing of the 19th Century, that perhaps the legend lives on… 

 

History-lovers are treated to long sections of intricate detail about the Fall of the Byzantine Empire, the renaming and reshaping of Constantinople's socio-religious landscape, the Rise of the conquering Ottoman Empire, and the ripple repercussions in the following centuries throughout Europe, especially in the East. I loved these historical portions, full of rich history, entwined with supernatural speculation and brimming with spiritual references. Enthralling… 

 

The additional aspect of exploration into father-daughter and mother-daughter relationships was intriguing, and especially as we never learn the name of our female narrator, not once in the whole story is her name mentioned. It’s an eerie detail that makes the mystery and sinister tone of the novel all the more real. 

 

A great recommended read! Thanks, Leonie! 

Not as instantly absorbing as the first, though decidedly more mature… we get to know and like these characters to a greater extent in this second installation. Huchu’s writing style is sparse, but he gets a point across in fewer words, often skipping essential verbs and definite articles in order to jump to the gist. His short sentence delivery is something to get used to and accept as stylistic in this series if you want to enjoy it. And it is a fast paced, many-layered, delightful adventure. Loads of regional colloquial expressions and geographical references for which I have a thorough fondness. More complex story in this one, better developed relationships, and you can feel it ramping up for even more complexity in future novels. I love this setting and the series has been a delightful surprise find this October.

…how did I miss this when it came out?? This is the oddest most intriguingly unique magical realism speculative alternate-reality fiction I’ve come across in ageeees… totally absorbing from the get-go, inventive and original, and yet, I see the streets and smell the aromas and love the historical twists and captivating storytelling, all the science-y bits woven in, and the repercussions of our modern political and environmental decisions set in a fictional alternate world… this is an instant gem written in sharp, culture-bending lingo worthy of the modern streets of ancient Edinburgh where rooted Scot and imported Scot clash and blend and write the script for the new Scot with a lingering old grudge...

Meandering. Fragmented. Loosely connected multiple stories that tie together(do they??)—well, that have meaning to one another, you’d think—but then the characters in the story confirm that they don’t, that no, they aren’t those people, they don’t belong in those stories, no. That’s not them, just some random interesting stories about other people who have nothing to do with this story. Maybe. But they are, in a way. Ugh. So hard to tell. 

 

Some lovely characters that contained probably very interesting histories we don’t really get to discover, unless we believe the stories are theirs—even though they deny it. 

 

The plot was… so purely allegorical (?) and abstract it lost itself in the beauty of imagery and words and symbolism (all open for multiple interpretations without any meaning really, or purpose to the story). The point of the story was… um… to lose yourself in the beauty of stories…? To find love…? Accept your fate…? Not sure. Not that I need to find a plot or point in a story, but there’s usually at least a thread that ties a narrative together. Virginia Woolf had more plot than this. 

 

Best part was the narration voices for the audiobook — put me to sleep in less than 10 minutes.