Month: February 2021

Three Apples Fell from the Sky by Narine Abgaryan – Book Review

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Three Apples Fell from the Sky by Narine Abgaryan – Book Cover

If they compare Narine Abgarjan’s book to “One Hundred Years of Solitude” on the cover, you’re forced to do the same, measuring it here and there; for example, the part of the text about the rooster isn’t quite right, but when the mold consumes everything, it’s entirely as if García Márquez himself wrote it. Then around page 40-50, you realize it’s entirely pointless to compare anything; “Three Apples Fell from the Sky” stands on its own, thank you very much. Granted, it doesn’t condense the history of half a continent into 100 years, but rather narrates about 90 years of an Armenian mountain village, but it does so in such a beautiful, uniformly undulating style that you’d be tempted to move there—unless you fear being permanently cut off from the internet and having to work your butt off for your daily bread.

Anatolia and Vasily, the two lonely widowers, are being pushed towards each other by their acquaintances. And while you wait for Vasily to finally make a move—because his chosen one, who expects nothing more from life, is just lying down to die—the story weaves around these characters, jumping back and forth in time, painting the lives of two or three generations of ancestors, relatives, friends, and neighbors. Us Hungarians, there’s no doubt we’ve had our fair share of trouble in our history. Well, Armenians have had about five times as much. Still, the national tragedy, the “great massacre” is only hinted at in two throwaway sentences; the emphasis is far from the trials and tribulations.

“Three Apples Fell from the Sky” is a paean to the ancestors, to the village, to the peasant way of life in the positive sense, which has largely disappeared there as well, just like here. The style, while not magical realism, comes close to it; it’s fairy-tale-like, but not really a fairy tale. What might throw it off its course a bit is when the narrative parts are outweighed by dialogues, like Vasily’s urban adventures towards the end of the story; those are a bit off: Vasily couldn’t really be this simple-minded. But you easily believe that more or less everything could have happened like this. (The supernatural elements surrounding two other characters seamlessly fit into the story.)

Meanwhile, the best supporting character is a dog: Patro.

You can jot down the food too, to check them on some recipe website. (I got curious about Armenian yogurt soup.)

And you can marvel at how in a community, the “May the neighbor’s cow die too!” principle isn’t the most characteristic, as it is with us, but rather, if someone needs help, they’ll lend a hand. (And you say this even though a clueless douchebag and his annoying, nosy, cauliflower-eared, bitchy wife are your neighbors, may the good Lord kick them in the rear!!)

There’s a lesson too: it’s never too late to find happiness. Even if it sounds cheesy. And this lesson is also wrapped in quite a bitter pill; sentimentality isn’t really typical of this novel. Not like with the short stories following the novel, which, well, let’s say they feel like typical soppy, women’s writing. But you read through them to speculate about who corresponds to whom in the novel, and in the process, you find yourself feeling quite sad.

8/10

Three Apples Fell from the Sky by Narine Abgaryan
256 pages, Paperback
Published in 2020 by Oneworld Publications

The Whispering Room by Dean Koontz – Book Review

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The Whispering Room by Dean Koontz - Book cover

I had never read anything by Dean Koontz before, although I’ve started several of his books. Then I stopped each one after a few pages. No big deal. They were just too uninteresting. Then came the first installment of the Jane Hawk series, and I couldn’t put it down. Well, it’s as if Dean Koontz suddenly found his stride. If you’ve read it too, well, you’ve found yourself a great conspiracy thriller. And you’ve discovered that Jane is the counterpart to your role model, Jack Reacher (see Lee Child: Die Trying) – equally effective, less brutal, and much sexier. She’s just ruthless enough to keep the story believable.

A few scumbags got what they deserved in the first part, in “The Whispering Room”, and the rest will follow in the series. The plot runs on multiple threads, perhaps to avoid repetition, because let’s face it, Jane’s investigation is pretty much the same as reading the first part all over again. Which is actually not a problem. The other thread is fine too. Then the two storylines intersect at one point, and things slow down a bit, especially with the “December update” – you might raise an eyebrow at this, which seems a bit exaggerated even for a conspiracy thriller. The Dark Zone wasn’t exactly a pillar of credibility either, but it worked within its own framework. So, if you were plotting a conspiracy against USA, you’d be better off not complicating things too much and definitely not wasting valuable nano-thingamajigs on a bunch of useless average people. And you’d probably fail miserably in Jane’s rescue mission too, which is completely pointless and instantly impractical from the main mission’s perspective. Well, for you it would be. Not so much for Jane.

Fortunately, “The Whispering Room” finds its way back in the end. The final chapters are quite exciting, and before that, Bernie Riggowitz’s appearance adds some humor and compassionate goodwill to Jane’s seemingly hopeless crusade – although it’s another question whether Bernie’s amateur acting is the clumsiest scene in the book. Whatever, Bernie’s inclusion still ends up on the positive side overall.

Another thing you might notice is that Koontz’s book tries to be much more literary compared to the first part. Emphasis on the word TRIES. He mainly achieves this by placing AT LEAST two lengthy and convoluted analogies on every page, which eventually makes your eyes start to glaze over at the sight of “as if” and “like” every now and then. What’s the point anyway? Casting pearls before swine? The Jane Hawk series is still just an average thriller. Okay, a little better than that.

7.5/10

The Whispering Room (Jane Hawk #2) by Dean Koontz
528 pages, Paperback
Published in 2018 by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

Attack on Titan – Series Review

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You have no idea what anime is? Neither did I, really. (It’s a cartoon, basically.) But Little EM nagged me for a whole year—well, if you can call open and shameless blackmail nagging—until I had to give in. “Attack on Titan is the best anime! Everyone’s watching Attack on Titan!” claimed Little EM. Maybe so, although the real question is how long they’re watching. If you want what’s best for yourself…

How does the series start anyway? It starts off damn well. Humanity has been living behind enormous walls for a hundred years. Outside the walls, there are naked, androgynous, and horribly stupid giants who hunger for human flesh. It’s like zombies, only bigger than apartment buildings. In the first episode, the giants break through the wall. After watching it, you’ll probably just gawk and say, “I’ve never seen a stronger series opener, not even Lost or The Shield, compare to this.”

Attack on Titan - TV Series - Season 1

Unfortunately, it’s all downhill from there. It feels like the creators locked a bunch of twelve-year-olds in a room, had them compete to come up with the dumbest idea, and the winner’s idea got passed along. There’s no sense to the story; it’s like they’re always trying to make something big happen, and as quickly as possible. The first two seasons could have easily explored how humanity recovers from the initial shock, how they slowly gear up for an unequal fight against the almost unbeatable enemy. Instead, they throw in two twists, right at the beginning (the first being the protagonist’s, uh, transformation, and the other involving the giant girl), which completely undermine the otherwise strong premise. And don’t even get me started on the Abnormals, special giants with unique abilities. Armor, teleportation, who knows what else. All these elements successfully reduce the series to a stupid fairy tale.

And believe it or not, that’s the lesser issue. The bigger problem is that the creators of Attack on Titan are incapable of writing sensible dialogue. All the conversations are garbled, pompous repetitions. Plus, most of the characters, whether necessary or not, SCREAM AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS. Especially Eren, the protagonist, who can ONLY COMMUNICATE BY SCREAMING. So, if his little buddies in the Scout Regiment disagree with him, they don’t politely ask,

“Hey, what the frakkin’ hell are you doin’, chimmy-chummy?”

Instead, they SHOUT in his face, “You’re preparing for the downfall of humanity with your actions. Admit that you’re an enemy of humanity!” And so on. This compulsive grandiloquence renders every conversation completely unbelievable and ridiculous.

But the childishness and thoughtlessness extend to every other aspect of the series as well. Whenever the characters find themselves in a crisis (which happens quite a few times), with about 10 seconds to avert the crisis, you can bet 500 yen against the armored giant’s left testicle that they’ll spend AT LEAST 10 minutes lamenting, philosophizing, or struggling with themselves over what to do—while you angrily pound the armrest of your chair in front of the TV and start SHOUTING yourself: “Your time’s up, you miserable idiots!”

At least one recruit participating in military training has a HYSTERICAL BREAKDOWN due to the bleak future ahead, and a third of the episode is spent with the others comforting them. Meanwhile, in sharp contrast, and only incidentally, it turns out that due to overcrowding behind the walls, 250,000(!) civilians were driven out to fight against the giants—to reduce the population inside. The brilliant plan was a success. The giants ate them all. Problem solved. It couldn’t have been easy to convince these 250,000 civilians to join the action; they were probably all forcibly pushed out the gate and weapons were thrown after them at the end, to prevent any recklessness inside. Or if not, they all were probably EASILY INFLUENCED retirees.

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Saga: Volume Two by Brian K. Vaughan · Fiona Staples – Comic Book Review

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Saga: Volume Two by Brian K. Vaughan · Fiona Staples - Comic Book cover

Well, if you thought Brian K. Vaughan slowed down the pace for the second installment of Saga, then you’re mistaken. The two enamoured deserters from Landfall and Wreath’s galaxy wide war continue their rampage – now accompanied by the mama-in-law and papa-in-law of the new mother. The introduction isn’t exactly smooth sailing, but who can resist melting at the sight of a brand new grandchild – especially when they see the horn buds on the little one’s noggin.

The mother-in-law blasted baby Hazel’s new, ghost-babysitter (with her dangling out intestines) out of the game at the end of the previous installment – and you couldn’t help but lament what a loss it was. She was such a cool character. Well, what can we say, she’s not the only one flying into the void.

Of course, there are new characters to fill the gaps left behind, (though it’s obvious that The Stalk can NEVER be replaced). For instance, seeing Marko’s ex-fiancee, you seriously ponder how this dull ass swapped out that gorgeous, fiery chocolate baby for this not-so-morally-solid current wife. (Well, probably because he’s a dull ass.) Gwendolyn would have GUARANTEED you’d never be bored for a second with her. Although, hm, it’ll probably work out with Alana too, at least until she gets bored of him…

You won’t miss shocking twists either, in fact, it feels like they may have overdone it with the story’s twisting this time around, a slightly slower pace might have suited the story better. Although you might think so just because you can reach the end of this slender volume in moments, which is a few pages shorter than its predecessor.

However, Prince Robot IV. is – now confirmed! – a genuine douchebag. Well, so that no human feeling gets caught in his circuits! Hopefully, someone will smash his screen in the next installment!

What you noticeably encounter less of compared to the first volume is the in-your-face primary sexual characteristics. (That’s right, maybe in the next volume.) Until then – even if quantity doesn’t make up for quality – presumably, Fard’s not-too-trustworthy testicles will hover in your mind’s eye.

8/10

Saga: Volume Two by Brian K. Vaughan & Fiona Staples
144 pages, Paperback
Published in 2013 by Image Comics

(Saga: Volume Two collects: Saga #7-12.)

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Review of the previous volume:
Saga: Volume One

Ross Poldark by Winston Graham – Book Review

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Ross Poldark by Winston Graham - Book cover

Ross Poldark, a captain with a gunshot ankle, limps home to picturesque Cornwall from the American Revolutionary War. His father is dead, the house is in ruins, and his fiancée has replaced him with his cousin. As Ross sets out to restore his dilapidated home, his self-esteem, and embark on farming, you get a glimpse into the daily life of late 18th-century South England. It wasn’t the most uplifting place at the time: the war has plunged the country into recession, the mining industry, the cornerstone of Cornwall’s economy, is struggling, the upper classes revel while the lower ones suffer. Ross’s useless employees, inherited from his father, drink like fish, and Ross himself isn’t averse to a tipple. You have no idea how this will turn out.

Then Demelza arrives.

Demelza is a 13-year-old, impoverished half-orphan whom Ross rescues from her brutal father and takes in as a housemaid. He couldn’t have done anything better. From this point on, you can’t wait to read about Demelza; her pages, especially with their poignant nature, overshadow the rest of the novel. Demelza is getting older, becoming more astute, and then sets out to capture Ross’s attention…

Many liken the first volume of the Poldark series to “Pride and Prejudice.” I wouldn’t know, as I haven’t read it; I only started with the 1995 Colin Firth series adaptation, but after about 10 minutes, I tossed the remote due to its superficial and exaggerated nonsense. Winston Graham’s book is emotional but not sentimental. It’s much more of a family saga with social sensitivity than a romantic novel, and it doesn’t feature the silly twists typical of women’s genre fiction.

A romantic novel would end with the main characters getting married. Their story really only begins after Ross impulsively marries the girl: you, on the other hand, watch contentedly as Demelza rises to Ross’s intellectual and then social level, and by the end, they become equal partners in the relationship.

Interestingly, it’s as if Demelza not only has a positive influence on Ross and you but also on the novelist: with the marriage, the quality of the writing improves, the style becomes more cohesive, and elaborate nature descriptions start adorning the text, while the uninteresting subplots (Jim and Jinny & other miners – who occasionally had their own perspectives) either seamlessly integrate into the narrative or disappear altogether. And you notice that you CAN’T PUT DOWN this volume.

8/10 (80%)

Ross Poldark (The Poldark Saga #1) by Winston Graham
379 pages, Paperback
Published in 2015 by Sourcebooks Landmark

Horus Rising by Dan Abnett – Book Review

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Horus Rising by Dan Abnett - Book cover

Have you always been a fan of epic series? Especially when it comes to sci-fi? Well, the flood of books based on the Warhammer 40,000 strategic board game is already around its 50th installment. The big question is just how seriously the whole thing can be taken as literature. Um, somewhat. Maybe. Especially if you’re male, a teenager, and sci-fi, especially the military aspect, gets you excited.

The superhuman, genetically modified space marines, led by Warlord Horus (who’s even more genetically modified), traverse the galaxy with its thousands of worlds, seen and unseen by humans, and if any of the strange new life forms don’t meet certain minimum requirements, like having more heads or tentacles than necessary, they get a good smack in the face. Which is fine so far; the fighting parts are quite, um, interesting, although even as a layman, you might notice that the Horus-led war machine UNNECESSARILY neglects the use of artillery. And the principled, rock-solid, straight-shooting Captain Loken does quite well as a protagonist.

But still, all the space marines are men. You’ve got these genetically turbocharged, tall, jaw-chiseled muscle men towering over you (Big chief Horus is four heads taller than you), and there isn’t a woman among them. You’re not the only one finding it hard to shake off (no pun intended) the horrifying image that this pumped-up herd chases each other around the crew quarters every morning with veiny victory flag, fully aroused to the EXTREME… There are only two meager references to help you understand, if you want, that this whole distinguished company, as it stands, is entirely asexual.

From here on, the story-forming forces of romantic threads and sexual tension are shot into space for the ENTIRE BOOK SERIES.

Something else you won’t find: even a spark of humor. Although in one or two cases, they almost point out to you, bro, hey, listen, humor is coming next… You can guess what the result will be when it needs to be announced specifically… not much at all.

So what’s left? Hm? The ideal of camaraderie. The pursuit of military feats. Honing military skills to the extreme. The belief in the semi-divine Horus, who is entirely like a charismatic and wise Macedonian Alexander the Great – (of course, before his brain completely rotted from paranoia and his own greatness.) If he were to glance at you, doubtless, you’d instinctively salute him.

And of course, the ultimate principle driving fleets into space, the Emperor’s justice, which boils down to if you’re not with us, you’re against us – so we smash you. The essence of the whole plot; sometimes, like in the last chapter, executed quite tastelessly and clumsily.

6,5/10 (65%)

Horus Rising (The Horus Heresy #1) by Dan Abnett
416 pages, Paperback
Published in 2014 by Games Workshop

Black Water Lilies by Michel Bussi – Book Review

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Black Water Lilies by Michel Bussi - Book cover

“Three women lived in a village.
The first was mean, the second a liar, and the third an egotist.”

That’s how the prologue begins.

“The third, the youngest, was called Fanette Morelle; the second was called Stéphanie Dupain; the first, the oldest, that was me.”

And that’s how it ends.

A very clever start. It makes you curious, forcing you to read on to find out: perhaps the eldest isn’t as wicked, and the youngest isn’t as selfish. And what about Stephanie, the middle one? Admittedly, she’s a bit deceitful, but you probably wouldn’t be able to resist those lavender eyes. Another question is, Jacques, her jealous idiot of a husband would immediately thrust his hunting rifle under your nose. So, forget about her.

The blurb says that Michel Bussi’s “Black Water Lilies” is France’s most successful crime novel, which may well be true, as Monet’s name could generate a lot of publicity for it. (The story takes place in Giverny, where Monet lived and worked for 43 years.) And you end up learning quite a bit about Monet while waiting for the three storylines to converge. Maybe even more than you wanted. And the three storylines don’t really want to converge, although the old lady is entertainingly acerbic, Fanette is precocious and clever, so reading about their adventures isn’t that bad.

Stephanie’s husband is a suspect in a murder case, but the crime aspect is the thinnest part of this book, which theoretically is still a crime novel. It starts out that way, but then slowly transitions into a love drama, until it turns into melodrama towards the end. And sometimes you scratch your head because of the unnecessary detours (Monet or Sylvio’s wife) and inspector Serenac’s blunders. He’s theoretically the ace of the police force – practically, he’s a clueless guy who seems woefully unfit to lead any investigation. You don’t even understand why Lauretine, the retired cop, has been brought into the picture, whose few scenes could easily be done by Sylvio, Serenac’s hapless deputy, who would rather deserve to solve the case.

Then, in the last 60 pages, if you manage to hold out that long, which isn’t guaranteed, you realize that you’ve been thoroughly duped by Michel Bussi, as easily as pie. Especially if you’re inherently naive and gullible, like the writer of these lines, and can never guess who the killer is in advance. But even if you’re prepared for anything, you still find this trap you’ve been lured into GENIUSLY memorable. And with that, the whole novel becomes that way. (Well, memorable, not exactly genius.) And while not all the structural slip-ups are explained, you get explanations for quite a few previously not-so-well-thought-out things. And even if not all the blunders are forgiven, the rating of “Black Water Lilies” climbs up from a significantly less elegant grade to

7.2/10. (72%)

And what you absolutely didn’t expect, you get a bit of cathartic, bitter-sweet closure at the end, reminiscent of Garcia Marquez’s “Love in the Time of Cholera.” Damn, who would’ve thought?!

Well, let’s not faint from excitement.

Black Water Lilies by Michel Bussi
350 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2017 by Weidenfeld & Nicolson