Ready Player One – Film Review

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Ready Player One - Film Poster

It starts off well, I must say, the first 20 minutes of Ready Player One, even with significant changes, capture the spirit of the novel. And the moment when Wade Watts’ name first appears on the Oasis leaderboard is ALMOST as impactful as it is in the novel.

The story unfolds in a near, dystopian future where life revolves around obtaining the hidden, inheritable key of a virtual reality that dominates every aspect of life (education, work, entertainment). However, the changes, which were obviously necessary for the story to work as a film, and even more so as a visually stunning one, gradually overshadow the narrative.

From the overwhelming computer animation that makes up 99-100% of Ready Player One, your head soon starts to buzz, and you feel like you’ve sunk into a Japanese role-playing game filled with manga characters, watching with increasing boredom from the sidelines as the avatars of other characters duke it out.

It’s like being in one of those muddled Transformers movies.

The youth-level black-and-white characters and childish humor don’t help much, nor does the shivery programmer god, Halliday, who seems to look like he’s pooped his pants at every appearance. But the worst is clearly the ultra-lame main antagonist.

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Killer on the Road by James Ellroy – Book Review

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Killer on the Road by James Ellroy - Book Cover

Ellroy was 10 years old when his mother was brutally raped and murdered; the perpetrator never came to light, and Ellroy could never recover from this trauma. Written from the perspective of a serial killer, “Killer on the Road” predates Ellroy’s truly great works (hello, “L. A. Confidential”) and Martin Plunkett’s early years bear a striking resemblance to the author’s own biography, from petty theft to serial breaking and entering. And as it’s well known, Ellroy didn’t have to venture far for a little panty sniffing – at least not once he had pinched said underwear from the neighbor’s place.

Ellroy’s trademark, the endlessly stripped-down, short sentences forming a monumental mass of text, doesn’t appear in this early book (1986); quite the opposite: the book’s style is incredibly loose, saturated with self-irony and cynicism, and it does read quite well. At least for a while. Plunkett, the protagonist of “Killer on the Road,” a brilliant and lonely outsider, is initially quite likable, although his many fantasies and dreams – as tends to be the case with others’ – are rather tiresome.

And although you know Martin is as mad as a hornet, you’re still rooting for him and hoping against hope that he’ll eventually turn things around, because someone as smart as him couldn’t possibly go down the wrong path. And those few sexual aberrations, my dear God, honestly, who doesn’t have them? You clap with joy when he meets a gorgeous and mischievous girl who seems to be just right for him. She’ll take care of him, you think, and from then on, everything will be fine. The sick motherfraker instead kills the woman without hesitation!

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The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte – Book Review

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The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte – Book Cover

You might have stumbled upon a few nasty mistakes by Pérez-Reverte before? Like “Good People”? Which, check it out, cunningly mistranslated, is actually “Boring People” in the original title. No worries, though. You always give the author another chance because of “The Fencing Master” (Or the woman’s shadow on the man’s heart), which is a bit like a neo-western, only with rapiers instead of firearms – and more sophistication.

1811. 99.9999 percent of Spain has been occupied by Napoleon’s troops, but Cádiz flips the bird to the emperor with infinite calm, peacefully nestled behind its high stone walls, happily trading through its port. The siege of Cádiz spans about another year and a half, and you follow it through the eyes of three main characters and the kaleidoscope of supporting characters swirling around them.

Inspector Tizón chases a serial killer, on which not only his job but also his own faith depends. And although the inspector is a foul jerk, who mostly gives his investigations a final shape with a bludgeon, he now has to rise above himself. The enjoyment value of the investigation is diminished by the fact that it unfolds first on a philosophical and then on a metaphysical level, until finally, it painstakingly finds its way. But the excitement of the obsessed pursuit is enough to make the incredibly unsympathetic inspector somewhat acceptable.

The other two characters, in return, are much more likable: Pepe Lobo hunts hostile ships with a privateer’s license. In his case, Pérez-Reverte’s book turns into a trace of an adventure novel, but if you have any romantic ideas about this profession, you sober up quickly at the sight of the everyday life of piracy: it sucks, plain and simple.

Lobo’s employer, Lolita Palma, who from a 19th-century perspective is slowly aging into an old maid, reluctantly takes over her father’s trading company. The evolving relationship between these two characters, socially distinct from each other and initially rooted in mutual antipathy is the greatest virtue of the book titled “The Siege.” Lolita has been my favorite from the start; I sometimes found myself flipping ahead to see when her chapter would come. (Just like in the good old days reading Game of Thrones with Arya). I have to admit, from the moment these two characters met, I found the story irresistibly exciting.

And although the book is much more a historical novel than a crime or romance novel, the siege itself mostly consists of the opposing sides shooting cannons at each other with not much efficiency. The essence lies much more in the everyday life. However, the description of these everyday lives is E-N-D-L-E-S-S-L-Y meticulous. I can easily imagine that during the “handicraft workshop” afternoon meeting, when the colonial rebellions’ commercial and political aspects are deeply explored, the dear reader suddenly goes wild and bites off a considerable chunk of Pérez-Reverte’s hefty work. Additionally, some supporting characters are entirely unnecessary; they don’t contribute anything essential to the story, like the salt miner, but the difficulties of the French artillery’s shooting range seem to be somewhat overrepresented. But seriously!

And during the last hundred pages of “The Siege”, perhaps because as you approach the endgame, you increasingly sense a foreboding, you feel that less would have been more.

7.7/10

The Siege by Arturo Pérez-Reverte
624 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2014 by Random House

Fatal Isles by Maria Adolfsson – Book Reviev

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Fatal Isles by Maria Adolfsson – Book Cover

Oops, another Scandinavian crime novel, and to top it off, written by a blonde chick. What does this most likely mean? Well, that Fatal Isles is a psycho-thriller? More precisely? Whining and whimpering? Well, no, you’re mistaken (at least in this case). Once you successfully get through the opening pages, which dissect the aftermath of an alcohol-fueled night, going into excessive detail, Maria Adolfsson’s novel turns into a pro crime story.

The initial setup, with Karen Hornby, a criminal inspector, sleeping with her jerk boss, is entirely self-serving and could easily be dispensed with; and once the investigation kicks into gear, it won’t hold much significance. Though things get complicated, at least for Karen, as the victim turns out to be the prick boss’s wife. The boss is sidelined, and Karen takes over the investigation.

The setting, the Doggerland archipelago, where British and Scandinavian cultures mingle, seems highly fictional. If geography isn’t your forte, and you were planning to vacation here next year, you might be disappointed. (Your feet might dangle in the water, or those darn wind turbines might drive you nuts…) Your suspicion, however, is cleverly assuaged by the islands’ professional environmental and sociological depiction, which seamlessly integrates into Fatal Isles’ text.

It seems like a good place overall, maybe just finding the machismo in the police force a bit exaggerated. But as a one-time reader, it still affects you because you’d most likely prefer to smack the meddling colleagues with a larger-than-average shovel instead of the patient Karen.

Karen already has a low opinion of herself, and she somewhat harps on the fact that the investigation is progressing slowly. If you were her boss, you’d let her do her job; it’s evident she knows what she’s doing. She conducts her work professionally and conscientiously, and her investigation doesn’t turn into some sort of obsession, like, say, Bosch’s investigations (see Michael Connelly’s The Concrete Blonde).

Karen’s personal life isn’t intrusive either; even if some scenes end up slightly longer than necessary. And because of her past tragedy, which is slowly revealed to keep your curiosity piqued, you’re generally forgiving towards her.

The investigation runs on two tracks, but reading the flashbacks, you can still guess where the resolution might lie. Yet, thanks to the cunning dosing of information, you still manage to get a bit uncertain at times. And in the end, just when you think you know everything, you get quite surprised. Or, well, maybe not you. I, for one, was surprised.

And then, you might even get moved because, it seems, a blonde lady just can’t entirely shed her skin, and by the end of The Fatal Isles, she must include an almost unnecessary, yet emotional closure. But in the case of a fundamentally good crime novel, this can be forgiven. And its effect will surely be nullified in the next installment of Adolfsson’s Doggerland series.

8.1/10

Fatal Isles (Doggerland #1) by Maria Adolfsson
514 pages, Paperback
Published 2021 by Zaffre

The Greed by Scott Bergstrom – Book Review

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The Greed by Scott Bergstrom – Book Cover

Scott Bergström’s book series is celebrated as a rejuvenator of the young adult genre, although it’s highly debatable whether it can even be called young adult at all; after all, the only connection is the protagonist’s age, and even that’s mostly true only in the first book, where Gwendolyn, who certainly isn’t your typical teenager, was a 17-year-old youngster. In ” The Greed,” she’s now trampling through her 19th grim year. (And their adversaries. She tramples them too.)

The not-so-human-friendly world of espionage isn’t a common theme in YA literature either (the Alex Rider books come to mind suddenly, although they’re aimed at a much younger audience). So, this series can be enjoyed by mature teenagers and up, as it’s fundamentally entertaining.

Scott Bergström is no longer as modest when it comes to sex as he was in the first part: little Gwendolyn has become somewhat more daring; although it’s true that the momentum slows down during the romantic parts, the author fails to convincingly convey deeper emotions. Here, you really sense a bit of a taste for young adult literature, although fortunately it’s only for a few chapters.

As cliché as “The Greed” is in matters of romance, it is just as unpredictably engaging as a thriller. In the first book, Gwendolyn discovered the cruelty within herself needed to stay alive, and now she’s presenting the bill for all the suffering. After the well-developed opening chapters, she embarks on diverse adventures: hiding, fleeing, investigating her own parents’ past, a bit of reluctantly accepted hitman work, and then stiffly opposed “hospital treatment”; however, her adventures occasionally trespass into the realm of unseriousness for brief moments.

Fortunately, although Gwendolyn is at least as sharp as, say, Jane Hawk (see Dean Koontz’s “The Whispering Room“), it turns out she’s not (always) invincible. And fortunately—better late than never—Bergström also realizes that what doesn’t work (and here we mean romantic troubles) doesn’t need to be forced—even if it means traveling all the way to Budapest.

In similar novels, the good side is usually represented by Americans, but here, the faceless CIA is the antagonist—no super-secret clique or a few treacherous scoundrels; Gwendolyn and her father anger the entire company, indeed the entire glorious American nation. A more believable and tangible main antagonist wouldn’t have hurt the story.

The ending of „The Greed”, however, is too, um, bombastic, and the clumsy melodramatic final scene is just another reminder of the young adult toolkit. But at least you can guess what the title of the next book will likely be. Envy? Pride? Lust? Ummm, no, more like something related to irreconcilable vengeance.

7.7/10

The Greed (The Cruelty #2) by Scott Bergstrom
416 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2018 by Feiwel & Friends

The Other Son by Alexander Söderberg – Book Review

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The Other Son by Alexander Söderberg – Book Cover

Sophie Brinkmann enters a criminal organization as an outsider (see: The Andalucian Friend). This profession is better learned from the ground up because if you just dive into it like Pilate into the Creed, you might end up making a professional mistake. Which could result in getting shot a few times.

So, an Other Son? Moreover, a stepchild?? He’s missing from her life like a hump on her back!

But let’s hear the good news instead: Alexander Söderberg’s second installment in the series is much more action-packed than the first. First off, it lacks that somewhat dull exposition. Then, what’s good about it is that the story is entirely unpredictable; you never know which direction the plot will take. And listen, in The Other Son, you might even find yourself genuinely rooting for a character. Or more than one.

The recipe for the second volume is familiar from the previous installment: two separate groups, two separate stories, the adventures of Sophie and Hector, who is just emerging from a karmacoma (see Karmacoma on YouTube), and the police investigation, which only converge at the end of the book. And speaking of police investigation: unfortunately, the same disappointing storytelling element enters here as in the first volume: the dirty cop effect; only while it was somewhat believable there, here, it starts to approach incredibility, as the slowly going completely crazy Big Chief Tommy would be much better off laying low, because this way nobody would tie him to the crimes of the previous part.

And how did this happen?

Well, there was a need for a villain, and there you go. Of course, it could also be explained by Alexander Söderberg’s love for creating messed-up characters, especially those in law enforcement (just remember the drug-addicted sociopath and his colleagues from the prequel). In Miles’ case, you can’t quite decide what the heck he’s doing in the story; his self-discovery and romance are entirely unnecessary from the perspective of the big picture, but nevertheless, these are perhaps the most noteworthy parts of the book. And the joint investigation with his colleague didn’t turn out bad either, even though you’d initially think it would fizzle out completely because they sniff around what was the main plot of the previous volume. So, you know what they’re going to figure out, but it’s still exciting to see how they keep moving forward despite all the obstacles.

However, Sophie, the well-meaning family woman sinking into the swamp of crime, has to experience the lesson behind the proverb “If you lie down with dogs, you get up torn into tiny shreds” if there is such a proverb in Sweden. Luckily, she also gets some help in trouble, namely from the two best characters from the first installment, Jens and our favorite Russian hitman, Mikhail. And as expected, by the end of the book, even this latter experiences some character development.

Unfortunately, though, overzealous employees can be found not only on the police force: hello, Aron, we’re looking at you disapprovingly, whose role is probably the same as Tommy’s: to somewhat forcedly and clumsily push the plot forward to the next volume (see: The Good Wolf). Because of these, this installment, while not as average as the first volume, – with more twists, more enjoyable scenes added to it, – is still much more variable in quality due to quite a few questionable moves.

7/10

The Other Son (Brinkmann Trilogy #2) by Alexander Söderberg
400 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2015 by Knopf Canada

False Gods by Graham McNeill – Book Review

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False Gods by Graham McNeill - Book Cover

In False Gods, the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet continues to march forward under the leadership of Horus Lupercal (and Graham McNeill). (See the previous part: The Horus Heresy by Dan Abnett). Their thunderous steps are guided by a complete lack of political correctness: fully armored, they crush anyone in THE UNIVERSE who is slightly different, or not human enough. Or perhaps human enough, just happens to hold an opposite opinion.

To start, the space marines smack down a few thousand living dead underground, during which Horus himself gets injured. As a result, the entire fleet deflates like a dried prune because they view their beloved leader as a demigod (and truth be told, after a while, you also get swept up in this incredible enthusiasm and start to admire him) even though this semi-divine being sometimes behaves like a narcissistic goose. One of the problems with False Gods is precisely this swooning, completely devoid of common sense respect that the guardsmen have towards Horus. And the way Horus turns towards himself, and who out of sheer pride and awareness of his own invincibility can walk into the most transparent trap. Yes, yes, at this point, you also start to wonder if the emperor’s little son is really the most suitable person to lead a fleet?

The title of the series is, of course, “The Heresy of Horus.” The second part jumps right into the thick of things because the main conflict revolves around Horus getting angry with the Emperor, his beloved and respected daddy, up until now. The quality of the conflict is somewhat diminished by the fact that it mainly plays out on a metaphysical level, specifically within Horus’s MIND. Horus’s attitude (who is, you know, a (BIG-)grown man) seems somewhat childish. He gets offended in advance because Daddy maybe wants to become a god sometime LATER; so surely he won’t care about him afterwards. Oh, and there’s a lot of bureaucracy too. That’s it. This is quite a thin foundation for a 50+ part book series.

From here on out, in the not particularly exciting remaining part of False Gods, you can agonize over whether Horus, who is essentially just a vain and arrogant jerk, will become a vain, arrogant, and EVIL jerk without any transition, based on a few silly visions. The fleet, apart from a few unlucky guys who get stuck outside the circle, will go along with him without a fuss, just like the legions followed the charismatic, emperor-rebelling generals in the Roman Empire.

In False Gods, there are also a few remembrancer leading a debauched lifestyle, who are actually just pebbles, ground-pounders, no one knows why they are with the fleet, and they just trail along after the events. When an ugly monster crawls out of the warp to devour a few of them, you just shrug it off. Bon appétit!

The quality of Graham McNeill’s writing is average, although sometimes a bit heavy-handed, and the characters often get unreasonably angry more often than necessary, but there’s not much of a problem with it. The main problem lies with the story: it all seems unprepared and off-the-cuff, like in a soap opera. If you keep reading this series, there can only be one reason for it: you’re curious (damn curiosity!) about what will happen to the noble Captain Loken, who is about the only character left in the story worth rooting for.

6.3/10

False Gods (The Horus Heresy #2) by Graham McNeill – Book Review
416 pages, Paperback
Published in 2006 by Black Library

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) – Film Review

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Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) – Movie Poster

If you haven’t seen the 1978 first installment of the film series, where old Max (Mel Gibson) zeroes out a motorcycle gang due to the murder of his family, it won’t be easy to identify with this new Max (Tom Hardy). This new Mad Max is mostly just some random dude, whom Immortan Joe’s somewhat anemic-looking subordinates drag out of his car and reclassify as a pedestrian in the first few minutes of the film. Might as well call him Jimmy the Pisser. Okay, the new Max is still a tad more than your average Jimmy constantly wetting himself, having developed parkour and acrobatic skills in the INFINITE AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK, which come in handy as he’s forced to jump around on various speeding vehicles for the remainder of the film.

And this new Mad Max falls short of the old Max (and Jimmy) in that he’s a jerk.

After realizing they’re in the same (motor)boat with Furiosa (Charlize Theron), Immortan Joe’s silently departing, disgruntled employee, and his former girlfriends, instead of giving them a nod and saying, “Hey ladies, what’s up? Let’s be best buddies from now on,” he pulls a gun on them, robs them, and lets them beat him senseless.

Not that Furiosa is much of a thoughtful personality either: after all, she drags Joe’s supermodel-like concubines out of their comfort zone into the ENDLESS AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK – and the foolish geese blindly follow; when all they should be doing is lounging around in the only remaining habitable place amidst the apocalypse, looking stunning, and occasionally delighting the grateful Immortan Joe (the poor man’s Darth Vader) with a new offspring. Joe, okay, really isn’t the most charming gentleman, but still isn’t lacking in charisma; and after all, they could easily end up with someone a hundred times worse after judgment day.

Immortan Joe - Mad Max: Fury Road 2015
Immortan Joe

The film’s main merit, the visual world, is okay, and mostly thanks to the former, the film’s atmosphere is as well: Desert, Sunshine, Apocalypse, although Little “M” angrily resented the excessive use of blue filters in the night scenes.

However, the action scenes are very hard to follow, the cuts are too fast, and the camera shakes as if there’s no tomorrow (or yesterday). You might find this especially problematic because the film “Mad Max” consists EXCLUSIVELY of action. If there’s an occasional brief break, it’s used to push you even deeper into boredom with sappy and sensationalist dialogues. And that’s the biggest problem with this film: after about half an hour, the constant action becomes deadly dull, and you can’t wait to finally be done with it.

George Miller couldn’t resist including the biggest cliché of the lonely and tough hero at the end of the film: Max, accompanied by Furiosa’s beseeching gaze, turns his back on his new friends and sets off into the sunset. But you know it’s all just a show, a projection, plain screwing around, because after just 27 minutes of wandering, Max will have to recognize that he’s in the last habitable place in the INFINITE AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK, so he’ll have to turn around and walk back to Furiosa, who, after pulling him close, whispers in her ear:

6/10

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) (IMDb)
Director: George Miller, Stars: Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles – Book Review

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A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles – Book Cover

If the first chapter’s improbability, where Amor Towles’ protagonist jests with his humor-prone Bolshevik compatriots, doesn’t put you off, and the book’s verbosity doesn’t immediately deter with its many twisty and winding sentences right from the start, then suddenly you find yourself beginning to like Alexander Ilyich Rostov, this charming and kind-hearted bohemian. Although you might have started with the assumption that “A Gentleman in Moscow” is sure to be some romantic affair, full of whining, but then again, it’s not.

We’re in 1922, by the way. Ah, the finest years of communism! Wait, scratch that: The count is declared a class enemy and is sentenced to house arrest for the rest of his life, confined to a attic room in the Metropol Hotel. Reluctantly, he has to start assimilating into the world of work.

As a reader, you might not tolerate all the babble, feel annoyed by the verbosity, and get chills from the unnecessary, unwarranted, and superfluous use of adjectives. I’m exactly the same way too! I’ll tell you that clearly, straight, plain, and openly. Nevertheless, I must admire with genuine astonishment when, for example, in “A Gentleman in Moscow”, the relationship between goulash and a type of wine is compared to the not overly sunny relationship between Achilles and Hector, and the metaphor then happily leaps onto a Trojan war chariot from there.

And then there are Montaigne’s essays, the Nizhny Novgorod apple cultivation, and family anecdotes in abundance, but all done with such elegance that it’s very difficult to extricate yourself from their influence. (Moreover, since Amor Towles is obviously a lover of Russian culture, after a while you find yourself surprised, deciding that you will definitely tackle War and Peace for the second time, which you abandoned thirty years ago when you got completely lost in the forest of Russian names.)

This verbosity, however, certainly won’t appeal to everyone. If you’re already annoyed by it at the beginning, it’s better to leave this book alone.

However, if you continue reading, you may feel that “A Gentleman in Moscow” is the MOST PLEASANT novel that has come your way lately: it exudes cheer, goodwill, and disarming humanity, despite being set in a dark era. Even towards the absurdities of Bolshevism, it is mainly addressed with gentle irony. The few chapters where it speaks more directly, such as the one about the Ukrainian famine, stands out from the novel like sore thumb.

And how long does the admiration last? Precisely until little Sofia appears on the pages of the book. After this, the count’s story visibly ends, but Towles’s book unfortunately continues – although it would have been advisable to end it with a masterful stroke. Instead, the focus shifts to Sofia, and indeed her story is much less interesting: a series of trivial, sometimes entirely boring and sentimental scenes. Strangely, even Count Rostov’s quirks resurface. But if you’ve made it this far, you probably won’t abandon the story, which becomes livelier once again towards the very end and turns into a more subdued espionage tale. Still, it slips down from a much higher rating to a

6.8/10.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
462 pages, Paperback
Published in 2019 by Penguin Books

Closed for Winter by Jørn Lier Horst – Book Review

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Closed for Winter by Jørn Lier Horst – Book Cover

Haven’t read any Scandinavian crime novels lately? No problem, they’re getting worse as the serious authors’ works run dry and they start shoving second-rate writers in your face. But hey, listen up, Jorn Lier Horst’s book “Closed for Winter” won Norway’s most prestigious literary award in 2011. Does that mean anything? Seems like it only means these Fjordlings are completely handing out their prestigious awards to utterly average books…

You read it, you read it, and you’re just about to mark it as boring as hell, but then you realize that somehow, a few pages in, you’re getting into it. Although not too twisty, it focuses more on depicting the nitty-gritty police work, and it specifically ensures that nothing happens to make you bite your nails to the quick with excitement, yet it’s complex enough to keep you from putting it down.

Horst’s crime novel is sometimes a bit on the nose, and the occasional clumsy sentence slips in, but there’s no overwrought soul-searching and tiresome lamenting, which are fundamental ingredients of Scandinavian crime novels. It’s just regular folks investigating an average, and later somewhat more significant, case.

It also helps that Jorn Lier Horst’s detective, Wisting, is a likable average guy who hasn’t become jaded by his work, remaining empathetic and kind-hearted, just like you and me – and this is quite a refreshing exception among all the cynical, alcoholic, and manic-depressive detectives. You might be skeptical now, but Wisting’s girlfriend and daughter are also completely normal people whom you’d welcome into your own family – Kurt Wallander and Erlendur detectives (see: Arnaldur Indridason: Reykjavik Nights) from Sweden and Iceland are undoubtedly snarling at them with jealousy-twisted faces.

It’s also certain that by about halfway through „Closed for Winter”, you’ll figure out who the mole is. I even guessed the killer a few chapters before the end, and I’m not one to usually figure these things out. And with that, I just want to point out that Horst skillfully avoids leaving you dumbfounded by the solution.

7/10

Closed for Winter (William Wisting #7) by Jørn Lier Horst
321 pages, Mass Market Paperback
Published in 2013 by Sandstone Press