Wulf C. Krueger

Not as sharp as before, but Kim Stone’s grit keeps me hooked.

Angela Marsons’ “Broken Bones” follows Kim Stone and her tireless team as they delve into a network of crimes that expose the darkest corners of society. While its predecessor left me enthralled, this one felt like a slight step back in terms of sheer suspense, character development, and immediacy of action.

“Broken Bones” deals with issues of desperation, abuse, and exploitation, exploring the ways marginalised people navigate a world indifferent to their suffering. Among the novel’s many strengths, Detective Kim Stone continues to stand out. Her tenacity, resilience, and willingness to challenge perceptions radiate in every chapter.

»He turned to look at her. ‘You’re advising me on positivity?’

‘Oh, the irony,’ she observed.«

The novel also examines the complexity of human behaviour. In a powerful scene, Kim reflects on the limitations of stereotyping:

»’A contradiction, eh?’ Bryant asked.

Kim shook her head. ‘Just a person, Bryant. Full of likes and dislikes, fears and hopes. I’m still waiting to meet the stereotype.’«

Despite these positives, the pacing felt uneven. At points, the plot unfolded methodically, building tension. Yet the resolution lacked the satisfying intricacy I’ve come to expect. Subplots occasionally dipped into predictability, and the shadow of the previous, stronger instalment loomed large. Marsons sets a high bar, and while “Broken Bones” meets it in parts, it falls short of being as impactful as its immediate predecessor.

All in all, I enjoyed “Broken Bones”—its gritty realism, memorable characters, and moments of raw emotion make it a worthy read. However, it wasn’t as consistently enthralling as I’d hoped, and I missed some of the edge that made earlier books exceptional.

Four stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

I've followed Angela Marsons' Kim Stone series from the beginning, and "Dead Souls" was, so far, its best instalment.

What sets this entry apart is the fascinating dynamic created by forcing Kim Stone to work alongside her long-standing nemesis, Tom Travis, and his team. This unexpected partnership generates tension throughout the story, while Kim's own team tackles separate cases that eventually interweave.The culmination, involving the abduction of one of Kim's team members, had me perched on the edge of my seat.

Marsons has always excelled at pacing, but here she's outdone herself. The narrative flows with the precision of a well-oiled machine, never feeling rushed yet maintaining a constant sense of urgency. While the subject matter is undeniably dark—dealing with xenophobia, racism, and hate crimes—it doesn't descend into the gratuitous territory that sometimes plagues contemporary crime fiction.

It feels almost eerie to have read this in January 2025, considering a convicted felon, an insurrectionist spared jail and disqualification from office by his election, is about to become president of the USA in less than a week. and his “tech bro” is openly supporting Nazis in Germany and the UK.

Back to fiction, though: The character development continues to impress, with both familiar faces and new additions being rendered in compelling detail. I particularly appreciated how Marsons uses the team's separation to spotlight individual character growth while maintaining the series' distinctive group dynamic.

Comparing this to previous entries in the series, such as "Broken Bones" or "Evil Games", "Dead Souls" shows a marked evolution in both storytelling sophistication and thematic depth.

For readers new to the series, while this book can stand alone, I'd recommend starting from the beginning to fully appreciate the character relationships and their development. However, long-time fans will find this a particularly rewarding entry that pushes beloved characters into new territory while maintaining everything we've come to love about the series.

Five stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

[a:Saša Stanišić 877513 Saša Stanišić https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1640075911p2/877513.jpg] macht es mir nie leicht: Sein “[b:Herkunft 44429051 Herkunft Saša Stanišić https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1552569522l/44429051.SY75.jpg 68990636]” hat mich erst wenig gereizt und am Ende “gepackt”, wie es nur seltene Ausnahmeerscheinungen schaffen. Nun sitze ich an meinem Schreibtisch unmittelbar nach Abschluss der Lektüre seines neuesten Werkes mit dem leicht sperrigen (und doch vollkommen passenden!) Titel “[b:Möchte die Witwe angesprochen werden, platziert sie auf dem Grab die Gießkanne mit dem Ausguss nach vorne 201467483 Möchte die Witwe angesprochen werden, platziert sie auf dem Grab die Gießkanne mit dem Ausguss nach vorne Saša Stanišić https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1716809581l/201467483.SY75.jpg 206354310]” geht es mir ähnlich...»Was das genau soll, wird nicht klar.«Genau so ging es mir als Leser an jener Stelle auch. Und wie schon bei “Herkunft” habe ich die Gelegenheit genutzt, die Skepsis, die Verwirrung und die Irritation bewusst zu verdrängen und mich auf die Geschichten einzulassen, die Stanišić hier einmal mehr meisterhaft erzählt. Lose verbunden durch den roten Faden der Grundidee - Leben probehalber “anzuprobieren” und sich für deren Annahme oder Ablehnung zu entscheiden - erzählt Stanišić von wirklichen und “anprobierten” Leben. Umfassend, empathisch und meist mit einem Augenzwinkern...»Wir vier zum Beispiel. Ausländer in Deutschland. Ja, auch du, Nico, deine Mutter ist DDR, das zählt.«Gerade die frühen Helgoland-Sequenzen waren für mich zunächst weitgehend undurchdringlich und nur mäßig verständlich. Mit den späteren Erzählungen werden aber Mosaiksteinchen hinzugefügt, so dass sich letztlich auch hier ein klareres Bild einstellt.Bei aller Fantasie und aller literarischer Verspieltheit ist Stanišić doch klar und unzweideutig positioniert...»Er war diesmal in Uniform gekleidet, Mo, ganz in Schwarz. Auch die Mütze war schwarz, und darauf, sowie auf der Brusttasche, steckte dieser Hakenkreuzadler. Hundertpro verboten, heute aber wieder mehr im Gebrauch.Wo dieser Tage solch eine Uniform zu finden ist, da ist normalerweise auch entweder ein thüringischer Politiker auf einer von einem CDU-Mann gesponserten Feier im kleinen Kreise, eine kontroverse Ausstellung oder ein Theaterstück. Mo konnte zwar vieles sein, aber ein Nazi war er nicht, noch war er Museum oder Schauspieler, wobei Schauspieler noch am meisten.Mo breitete die Arme aus!Ich umarmte Mo.«Unglaublich sympathisch und für mich der Höhepunkt des Buches: Die Geschichte um titelgebende Witwe Gisel, deren Hermann schon vor Jahren verstorben ist, der aber immer noch höchst präsent ist...»Mit Hermann war nicht alles leicht gewesen, aber das meiste. Und darauf kommt es im gemeinsamen Leben an, dass man es miteinander meistens leicht hat.Mit Hermann war immer jemand da: Hermann.Mit Hermann brauchte sie nicht zaudern. Oder Hermann zauderte mit, das war auch schön.«(Mit Dir, C., auch!)Nun ist dies aber keine bittersüße Liebesschnulze aus der schlechten alten Zeit, und obschon sie sich dabei manchmal selbst überrascht, ist Gisel alles andere als ein trauerndes Mauerblümchen, das durch den nächsten Mann “errettet” werden muss...»In Büchern ging es meistens um Liebe: Kam eine Frau vor, kam auch die Liebe vor. Gisel mochte solche Bücher nicht. Sie mochte Bücher, in denen eine Frau vorkam, und ein Flugzeug stürzte ab, und die Frau war die einzige Überlebende und schlug sich, bewaffnet mit einer Zahnbürste, fortan durch die Wildnis. Sie zähmte einen Bären, der ihr treuer Begleiter wurde.«Gerade zum Thema Helgoland lässt Stanišić Heinrich Heine direkt und indirekt zu Wort kommen. Ganz im Gegensatz zum selbstgefälligen Bildungsprotz [a:Umberto Eco 1730 Umberto Eco https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1588941738p2/1730.jpg], der damit seine intellektuelle Dominanz demonstrieren wollte, gelingt es Stanišić mit geradezu spielerischer Leichtigkeit durch Anknüpfen an Erfahrungen und Emotionen eine “tragfähige” (glaubwürdige) Brücke durch die Zeiten zu schlagen und so ist es nur folgerichtig, dass im Rahmen der “Anproben” möglicher Leben auch ein gewisser “Harry Heine” mit dabei ist.Überhaupt gehören die Geschichten um die “Anproben” zu den weiteren Höhepunkten des Buches. Ein paar Allgemeinplätze und geradezu naturgesetzliche Selbstverständlichkeiten...»Früher mit Kinobesuchen, lang ist der letzte her, eine deutsche Komödie, wie hieß die noch, war nicht komisch.«... muß man schon über sich ergehen lassen, und Höhepunkte wie der “multikulturelle Faustdialog” (Herkunft: [b:Herkunft 44429051 Herkunft Saša Stanišić https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1552569522l/44429051.SY75.jpg 68990636]) fehlen hier, aber die erzählerische und sprachliche Souveränität des Saša Stanišić suchen auch in diesem Buch in der deutschsprachigen Literatur des 21. Jahrhunderts ihresgleichen.»Dann mach es, mach dieses Einloggen. Ich will, dass du dieses Leben hast und kein anderes.«Fatih seufzt. »Mama, wir hatten und haben dieses Leben. Wir hätten unzählige andere haben können, weil wir unzählige andere Entscheidungen hätten treffen können, aber wir haben – zum Glück – solche getroffen, die dich zu meiner Mutter gemacht haben, und mich zu diesem heute ein bisschen gestressten Typen, der wieder Überstunden schieben wird, um den Fehler im System zu finden. Und der aber darüber total froh ist, weil er wahnsinnig gern Fehler sucht. Das kann nicht verschwinden, wir haben die Vergangenheit hinter uns und auch in uns, Mama.««Für diese neuerliche Bereicherung der deutschen Literatur durch den auch noch ungeheuerlich sympathisch wirkenden Saša Stanišić habe ich nur noch eines übrig: Fünf von fünf Sternen (und zwei feuchte Augen wegen des Schlusses).»Gräßlicher als der Patriotismus mit all seinen Geschwüren sind nicht einmal Zahnschmerzen.«Blog Facebook Twitter Mastodon Instagram Pinterest Medium Matrix TumblrCeterum censeo Putin esse delendam

From [a:Sartre 1466 Jean-Paul Sartre https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1475567078p2/1466.jpg] to [a:Connelly 12470 Michael Connelly https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1539114448p2/12470.jpg]: Last year, at a meeting, a colleague told me she had found my website and mentioned how diverse my reading was. I guess she was right. (Hi, Barbara!)I came from an exhausting read and needed something to just plain enjoy, to read-wallow in, and to indulge in - and “[b:The Last Coyote 49353 The Last Coyote (Harry Bosch, #4) Michael Connelly https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1170358620l/49353.SY75.jpg 449477]” was pretty much the perfect book for that.Harry, on leave for attacking his superior, Pounds, makes it his mission to finally solve his mother's murder. Most of the people from back then, the 60s, are dead and/or unwilling to talk. The rest are still among the high-and-mighty and Bosch doesn't play nice with the latter kind of person.Harry also attends mandatory counselling sessions with a therapist. I really liked this part of the narration on many levels: In 1997, getting professional help and allowing others to help was still not entirely normalised. Maybe not quite stigmatised anymore, people, especially men, wouldn't (in general) talk about such topics openly.Not only is this therapy positively depicted here, but the old stigma is addressed in constructive ways. It also gives us more of Bosch's personal background, which I immensely enjoyed because Bosch is a complex character. »“These stories, Harry,” she finally said, “these stories that you tell are heartbreaking in their own way. It makes me see the boy who became the man. It makes me see the depth of the hole left by your mother's death. You know, you would have a lot to blame her for and no one would blame you for doing it.”«He's gloriously imperfect and broken but instead of simply going into denial which is Harry's first instinctive reaction, he opens up. He makes the decision to work on himself and it showed.I really liked the psychologist as well: A very down-to-earth person who takes Harry very seriously and who is very transparent for him as well. »You're not understanding what I'm saying. I don't want any guilty person to get away, especially with murder. But what I am talking about here is you. You are my only concern here.«During his investigation, Harry meets a woman, of course, in whom he finds both a lover and his match...»“Something tells me it's a good story.” “What's that?”“Whatever it is you're doing. If you ever feel like telling it, the number's in the paper. But you already know that.” Bosch nodded. He was speechless. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.«I grinned broadly over their interactions as I liked pretty much everything about those two.»“You want to come home with me, Bosch?”Now he hesitated. Not because there was any deliberation in his answer. But he wanted her to have the chance to withdraw it in case she had spoken too quickly. After a moment of silence from her he smiled and nodded.“Yes, I would like that.”«Of course, Bosch is Bosch and, thus, not everything is as consensual as the previous quotation implies...»IN THE MORNING Bosch awoke first. He took a shower and borrowed Jasmine's toothbrush without asking.«(YIKES!)As always, this novel was wonderfully written: very smooth, readable, intelligent prose that is greatly structured in every possible way. I became so immersed in the story, I didn't even get to think “just one more page!”. I just read on, ignoring everything else.The mystery itself is thrilling and engaging but for me at least, it's the characters who really make or break a story, not just the twists (which are there and done well!) or the suspense (definitely there!). Everything in this novel “just works” extremely well. Within and without its genre, it stands tall and proud among its bookish siblings. Five stars out of five.»There was one story after the traffic report that caught his attention. An octopus on display at a city aquarium in San Pedro had apparently killed itself by pulling a water circulation tube out of its tank fitting with one of its tentacles. The tank emptied and the octopus died. Environmental groups were calling it suicide, a desperate protest by the octopus against its captivity. Only in L.A., Bosch thought as he turned the radio off. A place so desperate even the marine life was killing itself.«Blog Facebook Twitter Mastodon Instagram Pinterest Medium Matrix TumblrCeterum censeo Putin esse delendam

I don't like horror stories and I don't like “supernatural” nonsense. That said, I actually enjoyed these two short stories which are basically from the horror genre and are bordering on “supernatural”.
If only  “Dog Days” was to be reviewed, I'd rate it with four stars because it's clearly the much better story. The set up is (mostly) believable and its characters likeable and, at least when it comes to the primary protagonists, well-written. You can relate to the young hero and - in part - to his friends and enemies. The rest of the characters are not too far off to accept them. All in all, the story is intrinsically sound and enjoyable. Of course, there are a few issues, e. g. with the timeline - it's end of June and on the 19th of July something is expected to happen and the hero thinks that's in “less than two weeks”. Not quite right but nothing that really spoils the experience. There's a ghost that pops up twice for no good reason at all and should just have been cut out of the book - we never really get to know why it comes, what intentions it has or what happens to it - it's just passingly mentioned and immediately forgotten. There are few typos and other errors as well but nothing greatly aggrieving. So, all in all, a nice short story, worthy of reading even for those who don't like the genre.
Unfortunately, “Deadly Passage” didn't quite live up to my expectations after “Dog Days”. If it was only this story to be rated, I'd give it a merciful two-star-rating.  The basic idea - a couple of people hunted down by something on a ship - appealed to me but, alas, the story took some time to get going, the “hunter” (or “beast” as it's called from the very beginning) is portrayed to be more human than animalistic which simply not necessary for the story and instead of taking down one victim by another, the whole thing descends into slaughter rather quickly. There were quite a few gory scenes which didn't really help in any way either - subtle horror is so much better than describing intestines falling out of a body. This is exactly the kind of story I'm not eager to read more of.
Even though both stories have their weaknesses, both were hard to put down - I really wanted to know how the stories progress. That's a good sign and one of the reasons I'm rating the book with good three stars.

Nele Neuhaus auf dem Weg nach vorgestern

Ich war skeptisch, als ich die Lektüre des neuen Krimis um das Ermittler-Duo Bodenstein/Sander (vormals Kirchhoff) begann. Allzu routiniert und lieblos heruntergeschrieben fühlte sich das vorherige Buch „Im Wald“ für mich an.

Dies schien sich auch zu bestätigen: Nach kurzer Einführung startet „Muttertag“ mit dem Auffinden der Leiche eines alten Mannes langsam und behäbig. Viele Figuren werden eingeführt, die Ermittlungen laufen in verschiedene Richtungen und - zeitweise - wirkt das zäh und arg bemüht.

Es wechselt zudem immer wieder die Erzähl-Perspektive zwischen der Haupthandlung, einem Nebenstrang und einem inneren Monolog des Mörders. Das hilft nicht wirklich dabei, sich in der Erzählung zurecht zu finden und wird langatmig. Bis etwa zur Hälfte des Buches.

Erst danach beginnen die Zusammenhänge klarer zu werden und Ermittlung wie Erzählung nehmen Fahrt auf. Denn nach der langen Durststrecke findet Neuhaus zurück zu alter Form der früheren Bücher, vorgestern: Spannend, mitreißend, dramatisch wird es und ein bis dahin laues Belletristik-Lüftchen wird zum Sturm, der die Seiten geradezu umreißt.

Ein versöhnlicher Schluss mit Nettigkeit und Charme rundet „Muttertag“ ab und macht zwar leichte Krimi-Kost nicht nahrhafter, aber doch appetitlich und lecker!

Groschenhefte hatten mehr Inhalt und geistigen Tiefgang...

Wer sich noch an die Groschenhefte von früher erinnert, die kurz, schmalzig, niveaulos und wenig intelligent waren, der wird es einzuordnen wissen, wenn ich hier feststellen muß, daß diese Ultra-Kurzgeschichte (zumindest verringert das den unweigerlich auftretenden Leseschmerz) tatsächlich eben diese Groschenhefte noch um Dimensionen unterbietet und dabei wesentlich teurer ist.

Dieses “Buch” ernsthaft zu verkaufen, ist eigentlich eine Frechheit - es aber überhaupt geschrieben zu haben, ist der Autorin (wer auch immer diese Sophie Kinsella sein mag) hoffentlich inzwischen selbst peinlich. Sicher ist jedenfalls, daß ich nach diesem Wort-Friedhof ganz sicher keine weiteren Bücher von Frau Kinsella lesen werden.

Glücklicherweise war dieses eBook gerade gratis, als ich es mir hier bei Amazon herunterlud, aber dennoch - eigentlich ist selbst geschenkt noch zu teuer.

Wieder ein großer Wurf, der an seinen Vorgänger erinnert.

Diesmal geht geht es um das Sterben eines Dorfes über Jahrzehnte hinweg. Damit einhergehend sterben aber nicht „nur“ das Dorf und seine Bewohner, sondern eine ganze „Dorf-Kultur“: Mit Flurbereinigung und allgemeiner Urbanisierung gehen Traditionen und manchmal auch Existenzen zugrunde.

Hansen glückt es jedoch, in diesem Untergangsszenario auch bereits den hoffnungsvollen Anfang einer Weiterentwicklung darzustellen. Insbesondere ist verdienstvoll, dass es Hansen mit großer Behutsamkeit und Zurückhaltung durchgängig glaubwürdig gelingt, die charakterliche Entwicklung insbesondere Ingwers sich organisch entwickelnd darzustellen.

Auch hier ist der „Wiedererkennungswert“ autobiografischer Erfahrungen potentiell groß: Viele Schilderungen im Buch haben mich schmunzeln lassen oder mich allgemein an meine eigene Kindheit „auf‘m Dorf“ denken lassen.

Insofern habe ich mich auch in „Mittagsstunde“ (bei uns übrigens eine Stunde später, von 13:00 bis 15:00 Uhr) sehr schnell heimisch gefühlt und habe Seite um Seite in Ruhe genossen; mit Ingwer, Sönke und Ella gebangt, geendet und neu begonnen.

Ganz reicht es dann doch nicht an „Altes Land“ heran, aber es fehlt nicht viel daran und ich freue mich schon auf den nächsten Roman.

Have you ever read a book by Umberto Eco? Then you'll know that Mr. Eco is an extremely smart person - and he loves showing that to his readers. His books are well-researched, full of reference to historical facts, other works, etc. They might not all be nice to read and some are outright annoying but at least they're well-written.

Now imagine Eco without proper research, without the smartness and without much talent for writing and you get: William Azuski

First of all, I don't care about realism if a book is interesting. I don't mind the author's ideas about archaeology or volcanoes (even though they're involuntarily comical in this book).

I do mind when an author writes more in metaphors than straight sentences, though. A few examples:

- “the fury of a candle left in a draught.”

Candles tend to die, left in a draught. I don't really see much “fury” there.

A few sentences later, we read “The great day dawns, the sun struggling through spitting clouds.”

“Spitting clouds” - well, I suppose that's rain but, really, useless, stupid pathos.

And if it's not “Lucifer-red” it's “rust-red to the author (if only he could decide how to spell it...):

- “rust-red cliffs”
- “rust red lava”

Enough of that, though, let's take a look at the characters. Unfortunately, nothing good to see there either - all of them are caricatures of themselves, stereotypes we've seen a million times before. Just one example of an Oxford scholar “Dr. Adrian ‘Hadrian' Hunt”:

“Dr Adrian Hunt, thinning hair, waddling gait, and that pink English skin that the sun refuses to bronze even in summer. He stood there like a plump, startled bird, peering out through round tortoiseshell glasses, probably still wondering at the back of his mind why he had deserted the gothic spires of Oxford for this godforsaken place.”

This stereotype has been exploited so often but rarely have I seen a description that blandly composed of everything better writers have only subtly alluded to. But careful allusions are not Azuski's style. Bold statements are more like him and they repeat throughout the book.

The characters don't really develop either - Pedrosa, our witless hero, constantly meanders between hating his boss, Huxley, and admiring him. In fact, he switches so quickly one gets dizzy. That's not character development, though.
The others, unless they're busy dying or quarreling with each other, don't really ever change at all. They're just somehow around and we'll never really understand what for since they're usually just staring into the “great beyond”.

Huxley says it to Pedrosa but it actually fits much better for us, the readers: “You wade through the swamp of your own fears, your own emotions, your likes and dislikes, your desires and aversions, your passion for this, your suspicion of that. I ask you again. Is that where you expect to find the truth?”

Better don't expect any truths from this book, it's just a collection of metaphysical mumbo-jumbo which ends with a whimper trying to be a bang and which would, if this book hadn't already been hopelessly, utterly, irredeemably bad already, have ruined it completely.

Whatever you do with your life, don't waste any minute of it reading this.

Schwacher Inhalt, schlechter Stil, vorhersehbar

Vorab: Obschon ich zumeist eher Romane oder auch eine gute Novelle schätze, mag ich auch gute Kurzgeschichten. Jedoch ist es wichtig, daß letzteres Format sich wirklich auf das Essentielle beschränkt. Das ist im vorliegenden Fall leider nicht gut umgesetzt.

Inhaltlich ist der “Kindle Killer” eher schwach - die Geschichte beginnt nett erzählt, muß jedoch überstürzt beendet werden, da der Autorin offenbar die Umsetzung der Grundidee schwer fiel. Sprache und Schreibstil helfen leider auch nicht, den “Kindle Killer” im Gedächtnis zu behalten (ich erinnere mich im krassen Gegensatz zu dieser Kurzgeschichte noch sehr deutlich an eine Kurzgeschichte von Ambrose Bierce, die ich vor über 20 Jahren einmal las); beides ist deutlich unterdurchschnittlich.

Eine gute Kurzgeschichte sollte zudem nicht vorhersehbar sein, sonst verliert sie leicht ihren Reiz. In diesem Falle gab es leider nur einen denkbaren Ausgang und der trat natürlich auch prompt ein. Leider waren aber in der Tat nicht nur das Ende, sondern auch viele Einzel-Elemente der Geschichte altbekannt und somit in keiner Weise überraschend, neu oder gar aufregend.

Erschwerend kommt hinzu, daß es wohl keinerlei Lektorat oder Korrekturen gab - das Buch wimmelt von Rechtschreib- und Grammatikfehlern, was mir zusätzlich übel aufstieß.

Liebe Liv Olson, das war eine gute Idee mit interessanten Ansätzen. Leider ist die Umsetzung nicht sehr gut gelungen. Daher von mir nur ein Stern.

This is yet another win from Early Reviewers. Unfortunately, it's a completely forgettable book. I've read “Silk” some time ago and waited to write this review for a while to see what I would actually remember and how I would feel about it.

The story is pretty much standard murder mystery: Killer kills woman, police tries to find him with the limited means of the time, police catches murders.

In between, there's a bored guy from the landed gentry who tries to achieve eternal youth by acquiring an obscure potion, seduces every woman he meets and kills most of them because it turns him on.

There's the lonely cop with a funny name and his sidekick, their annoying boss and a bit of romance thrown in uninspiredly. The author tries to add a bit of philosophy (“Was he always like that or was it the potion? Everyone seems to have loved him! Must have been the potion” - “No, young padawan, he must have been a monster before because no elixir exists to turn someone into one.”) but fails at that as well.

Honestly, find something else to read. This book is simply uninspired and boring.

Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin

Do you like watching glaciers move? Like, in real-time? Are you a German teacher of English? Do you hate someone very much? (You can even combine the last two!)

Congratulations, this book is especially for you!

I actually enjoy a good story, lavishly told in good time. Me possibly drinking coffee or wine and enjoying myself, even losing myself inside a story told slowly, delightfully, perhaps playfully.

The story-telling here is mooooooooostly slooooooooow. Just slow. Not lavish, not delightful, not playful, just plain old slow.

Now, slow food? Good stuff! Fast food only makes me fat anyway. Slow food doesn't mean I have to enjoy chewing on a piece of granite – or reading this book.

‘f slows the only prob, things mighta haven't look so bleak. Ain't just that, sirree, naw. The language. South'rn drawl my ass. Short sentences. Clipped sentences, eh? Yeah, boy, might work. If yall are proper pen pushers, heh?! Franklin, ma boy, you ain't a one.

Ok, enough of this. It's really annoying. I really, really hated those clipped sentences. They read like they hated their literary life for being, well, emaciated.

Well, all of that could still have been forgiven (I can almost see the small teaching, pupil-hating, glacier-watching demographic from the introduction nod their approval!) but let's take a look at the story itself:

Young Larry (40 today) goes on a date, girl goes missing, people start hating Larry, apart from his “special friend” Silas and even more special Wallace Stringfellow. The former being a sorry excuse for a friend, the latter being worse.

At the very beginning, poor Larry gets shot and Silas goes up and down memory lane for about 80% of the book, inspecting their miserable, boring lives in the past. Discovering “shocking” truths and a body. (Not, two, though. The mystery that all but ruined Larry's life never gets solved.)

The first words in chapter seven are basically a clue bat I, unfortunately, didn't fully appreciate:

“IT WAS 1982.”

Yes, and we're at 41% of the book and feeling like we've had to wade through decades of boredom but, wait, those guys are about 40 and no point whatsoever has been reached or made so far – we're not safe yet, with decades before us yet! (Had I realised earlier and not only now, in hindsight, or given in to my instincts about bad books I might have preferred to watch grass grow but, alas, that exciting exercise has to wait for a worse book.)

Still chapter seven (did I mention those chapters can take an hour or more of a fast reader's time? (not to speak of the poor sod's life!)): “IT WAS THE slowest week of his life,” man, you're taking the words right out of my mouth.


Anyway, why did I even finish this turd? Well, truth to be told, my daughter has to read this book for school and being the stupid oaf I'm sometimes maligned to be, I mouthed off to her about how good this book must be, having great reviews on Goodreads and how she should just get reading it! Sorry, my dear Schn..., I'm sure to do it again but for this book you have my sympathy.

Drink, have fun with grass, do whatever you want with your life but don't make people read this book.


Oh, and if you really are a German teacher of English, I'm presenting you with a list of seven (because I can!) books better suited for your intended purpose which won't make your pupils hate you (even more, at least):

- Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
- Beartown by Fredrick Backman
- Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark T. Sullivan
- All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
- The Universe versus Alex Woods by Gavin Extence
- The Nightingale or The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

This was yet another pleasant surprise from LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program.
This is a classic example for not judging a book by its cover because - let's be honest - the cover looks like a failed experiment.
The book itself, though, is fairly enjoyable. In fact, the story telling, the writing and the overall style (which is somewhat rough at the edges) reminds me of an early Brandon Sanderson.
The story was interesting and fairly well told. 

Just when I was thinking nothing really good would ever come out of giveaways, I got “The Bourbon Street Ripper” (BSR). Put off at first by the lurid title, I quickly got drawn into the book.

As usual, I'll skip summarising the story as others will have done this before. In short, it's basically a well-done mystery novel and, in contrast to the author's “Clearly not your normal mystery book.” it is a normal mystery book with a few twists and some “extra features”. It's not normal in that most “normal” mystery books are treading well worn-out paths which, to a fair extent, BSR succeeds to avoid.

The main characters are mostly believable and well-developed and both the 20-years-before story as well as the current storyline and interestingly (and rather subjectively) presented through some of the characters.
The contrast between two of the protagonists, namely Rodger and Michael, works well for the book as do the similarities between two other characters (albeit the presentation of those could have been a bit more subtle).

For me at least, this was a real page turner in spite of having to apply some suspension of disbelief at certain points in the story (a certain scene with the priory comes to mind). The book still “works” for me, though, since when I'm reading a piece of fiction I'm willing to “just let go” a fair part of my usual skepticism.

Unfortunately, there are a few downsides to this otherwise nice work. Starting with what annoyed me the most, there were some scenes that were presented in an overly gory way - there was no need to describe in rather blunt terms how a side-character gets murdered and how the crime scene looks afterwards. I consider these gore scenes actually one of the weakest points of the book.

Some people might take offence at the Voodoo theme as well; I'm not one of them, though. It may make sense, considering the primary location in the book is New Orleans, though, I'm not sure. Speaking of which: From what I've read, I somehow got the notion the author might want to convey his ideas and feelings about or for New Orleans. Maybe even get the reader to become interested in the city itself. If that's part of the goal, it failed for me.

The cliffhanger at the end didn't really come as a surprise either - there were (too) many allusions as to what would happen for my taste and, thus, the “cliffhanger” didn't work for me - I expected exactly what happened and I'm pretty sure I can predict what the second book is going to start with.

I do like, though, that I'm not yet sure who's behind it all - I do have my suspects but not having made up my mind at the end of the first book is certainly a good sign.

This is my final gripe with BSR, though: A mystery thriller shouldn't come in two books. Never ever.

Don't get me wrong, I've read lots of, e. g. epic fantasy; I've stuck with Wheel of Time. I'm not happy with a mystery thriller trying to pull off the same, though. Those should come as one (huge, if necessary) volume. Yes, the publisher might not like that, people with an attention span of about 10 seconds might not either. It might even sell worse at first but, really, a good mystery will find its audience even if it has a thousand pages.

I'm curious to read how this all is going to end and, thus, will buy the second book for sure but, Leo, if you pull such a stunt again, you can become the next winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature and I still won't read another book of yours.

Even though it might not seem like it after all this criticism, all in all, I really liked this book. I recommend it wholeheartedly to anyone who likes to read a good mystery. Four out of five stars from me.

— UPDATE —
This review got me into touch with Leo directly and I was able to discuss things with him. Leo, as it turned out, is a really friendly, approachable person and very transparent with respect to his ideas, plans and reasons for his choices. While it doesn't change my feelings about BSR, this is something out of the ordinary and yet another reason to keep an eye on his further works.
Authors who write good books and are simply nice people, open to criticism, deserve my support at least and I hope you, dear reader, feel the same. :-)

This was yet another surprisingly good book from early reviewers. As usual, I won't bother with a summary especially since the description is already pretty good.
The story is basically narrated on two different levels in time which are slowly being merged into the current day. Especially in the beginning, this is done masterfully and effortlessly. It's getting slightly harder to understand towards the end of the book when the time frames are getting nearer to each other but it's still very well done.
There are a few minor issues that make me subtract one star:  - There are several occurrences of the nowadays common mistake of using “[I] could care less” when it actually should be “[I] could not care less”, e. g. “He acted as if he could care less, but the fact was he did.” (Chapter 5) - A few times, when it should be “then” the author's mistakenly using the comparative “than” instead. - Fairly regularly, there are instances of a missing comma.
These minor issues, though, hardly ever really have an impact on the enjoyment of the book as a whole. It's brilliantly written, I can relate to almost all characters which are believable, well fleshed out and fitting extremely well into the narration.
In contrast to another reviewer, I believe the book has exactly the right size - it never became long-winded for me and everything told was on some level important to the story. I never grew bored or disinterested.
If and when there's a second edition with the minor issues I pointed out fixed, this could become an almost flawless gem.

Occult nonsense and boring at that

Let's instead start at the very beginning: The cover. It looks cheap and badly done. Tons of artifacts, especially around the arms. The text looks like it belongs to some romance novel, not a wanna-be occult horror "novella".

And, oh, yes, it certainly is a "novella" which is good because much more than the about 24.000 words this thing offers would have been insufferable.

Since some endorsements are placed prominently at the beginning, let's see what others have to say. A certain Gary A. Braunbeck states it's "the best work she's ever done" - well, thanks, Gary, for the warning. He adds another notable statement "Don't start reading with any preconceived notions about horror *or* storytelling because they'll be shredded into confetti [...]".

He's completely right: I've always thought storytelling was about making the reader feel, breathe and live within the story. Gary wouldn't agree, I guess, if he thinks what Morton does is storytelling.

According to some Ray Garton, Morton "has created something so strikingly unique that it stands alone in the genre." - Yes, I don't think I've ever read something so uniquely bad in the genre - congratulations!

Anyway, why is this book so bad after all? It's full of pompous, self-important crap - most illuminating are the first two sentences:

"My name is Lisa Morton. I'm one of the world's leading authorities on Halloween."

Just prove it, Morton, don't shove it into your readers' faces like that. After all, you did some research after all. You have a whopping 21 footnote references - ok, 11 of them are references to this very book, other books written by yourself, other occult short-stories or just links.

Anyway, the story is quickly summarised (don't worry, no spoilers) - the hero, the author's alter ego, meets someone who found an age-old manuscript, that someone sets something evil free and the hero tries to fix that.

Unfortunately, our hero, who never believed in magic and thinks she's a die-hard sceptic quickly starts believing any nonsense that gets thrown at her. She experiences (and does) something drastic but quickly shrugs it off to plan yet another atrocity. Very believable...

So, to banish something evil, she prepares to summon something even more evil without even really knowing if that'll help or "damn the world" but, hey, who cares about logic!

And when the hero's finally doing what she feels she has to do, the book dies with a whimper.

Coming back to the beginning and shredding something into confetti: If you bought this book, you know what to do. Or wait till Halloween and put it in your Jack-o-Lantern. Or delete it from your ebook reader and pretend it never happened - that's certainly more suspenseful, exciting and logical than this entire "novella".

Unfortunately, this is another book I finished for two reasons only: a) I always finish a book. b) I felt a moral obligation to do so.

The problem with “The Third Day” is that it tries to do/show a lot of things in parallel and doesn't succeed in any. Take two people dissatisfied with their lives; a depressed agnostic widow and a faithful scholar. Their lives basically change over night due to a spectacular discovery; building the story up from this, describing the protagonists before their, let's say, departure, is where the author succeeds - it's believable and interesting.

* WARNING *** Spoilers ahead *** WARNING **From that point on, though, things spiral down: The widow and the scholar basically exchange their roles and beliefs; while the former turns into a fervent believer, the latter becomes a fanatic closet-opponent. Even if we simply accept this process (which at least in the scholar's case is not really believable at all), the means this is achieved by are ridiculously annoying - enter a time traveller. A well-known antagonist, disguised as a time-travelling scientist, tempts both our “heroes” and succeeds in one case and partly in the other.While I do understand the author's motivation and the idea, the implementation is tiresome and doesn't really fit with the characters as sketched out up to the respective point in the story. No important spoilers from this point on **Most of the remainder of the book is basically a rather naive re-narration of the New Testament (NT) - with a strong artistic licence in some parts. This is what annoyed me the most - I've read the Bible, thank you very much, and I really don't need to re-read the NT in the words of some novelist and with a strong focus on the more “spectacular” parts, skipping the more seemingly “boring” but important parts - and, in the process, spending a lot of time telling the reader where Jesus and his disciples are going.If you want to write some kind of religious novel, please have the decency to choose religiously important parts and expand on those.If you just want to write an interesting historical novel, please don't mostly re-narrate but boldly take more liberties and write what *you think is important.

If you, dear reader, want to read a very interesting albeit controversial religious novel, give “The Shack” by William P. Young a try. Much more ambitious than this one - but Young actually pulls it off while Graham bit off way too much.

I really hoped to like this book because the author gave me the ebook for free. This was nice, Robert, and thanks for that again.

Unfortunately, I really didn't like this book for quite a few reasons. First of all, it starts extremely slowly - the entire first third mainly consists of annoying quarrelling between stereotyped characters:

- The snobby English lord and lady,
- the pious preacher,
- the American adventurer and his suffering wife.

One would expect to get to know them pretty well on more than 100 pages but, alas, they never rise above the cliché and don't develop at all (which they won't for the entire remainder of the book).

At their destination, they're joined by an elderly clairvoyant (more esoteric nonsense to follow), the obligatory ghostly figure and the hotel detective.

Not only are those characters stereotyped but they immediately jump to all kinds of conclusions: The lord and his lady are quick to judge and as quick in coming to yet another wild idea about life, people and everything. The pious preacher hates them all (and, in a sideline of story which the author seemingly completely forgot about at some point, is involved is shady deals for the greater good) and won't let them forget about it.

The adventurer and his wife basically swing between hating each other and trying to mend their marriage. Not that the reader would care because both are completely unlikable.

Meanwhile, the pompous, self-righteous, superstitious hotel detective will meander between suspects for the “Murder at the Ocean Forest”, enlist the help of the clairvoyant and, after way too many pages, will eventually solve the mystery which an experienced reader will have done at about half-way through the book.

Why, I hear you ask? Because anyone who has read “classical” mysteries will have read it all before by way better writers. This completely overrated book has obviously been strongly inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie and other famous authors. (Christie is even mentioned in the book...)

Agatha Christie, by the way, could have done this in half the length and with twice the suspense.

One of the major features is so worn out by now, it even has its own Wikipedia entry:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locked_room_mystery

I want to avoid spoilers here so I'll skip the references to other prominent works of different authors whose plot devices were reused here.

Of course, every character here is more or less connected to everyone else and there are plenty of oh-so-tragic events and/or experiences they shared or can at least relate to.

Really, stock up on Doyle and Christie, (re-)read those and don't waste your time with this book.

“I'm a bit like moss; at first you don't notice me, but while you're not looking, I secretly grow on you.” I got this book for free as an advance review copy by the author who happened to like my review of “[b:Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine 31434883 Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine Gail Honeyman https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1493724347s/31434883.jpg 47327681]” and approached me. Thanks, E. M., I appreciate it! Secondly, I'd like to point out that “ten percent of the profits of this novel [are being] donated to the Children's Adventure Farm Trust” by request of said author. That's pretty cool as well. So, now that the introduction is out of the way; what's this all about? Essentially, it's about Willow who is a “socially-challenged” young adult, working as a temporary employee in a (for her) boring office job. Living at home with her overbearing mother, Willow is not much of a happy camper. In fact, she is a bit bitchy at times and annoying. Also, she's a YouTuber and not very successful at that – she has like 10 subscribers. In her videos she basically gives dating advice in spite of the fact that her only relationship (that goes beyond mere acknowledgement of existence) is with “SSJ Bailey”, an employee of a local store. All in all, Willow's life is a bit of a mess. Hold on, though, because as per the introductory quotation, she actually did grow on me – somewhat. Collyer was right to approach me – Willow does have quite a few similarities with Eleanor Oliphant (albeit being an original story in its own right!). Willow is socially inhibited, has difficult familial bonds and something of a “dark secret”. Willow's personality differs vastly from Eleanor's, though: Where Eleanor doesn't allow herself to think of herself as being anything but “completely fine”, Willow feels she's undeservedly suffering: “The day doesn't get any easier, though. There are no points awarded for suffering.” Both Eleanor and Willow seek to make a good impression on a man but whereas Eleanor makes insane plans, Willow prepares pick-up lines which she calls “PowerPoint wake-up calls” to push men out their comfort zone. This does make a lot of sense but Willow tends to get a bit preachy about it: There are YouTube video scripts that basically try to drive home the point of the chapter. While they're mostly spot-on, they're standing on their own and sometimes indeed feel like a sermon. Willow – to me at least – isn't very likeable either; at times, she's outright unkind, snarky and deliberately offensive and hurtful (if she scores a hit or doesn't as in the following example) doesn't matter: “I tell her she looks like an aberration of nature. Chloe beams. “Thanks, Kayleigh!”” Willow keeps comparing her life to that of others who “all have easier lives than I do. The world is much nicer to them.”. At which point I want to ask her how she could possibly know that. She basically keeps coming back to the ancient lament “Why ME?!” as well which I find rather annoying on many levels: First of all, if you ask “why me” you pretty much put yourself into the centre of the universe. While I sympathise with that, I came to understand that the universe as such doesn't even know I exist and doesn't care. The universe just exists and that's it. Secondly, it (most of the time) puts things out of a healthy perspective: Willow is lonely, not suffering from terminal cancer or something like that. (And what does it say about someone if they say “why me” - doesn't that kind of imply that “some other person deserves it much more”?) And, of course, by asking “why me” you make yourself a victim. “Destiny” wills it so and you're just an innocent victim who can't do anything about it. No, most of the time, you can change things. On the other hand, when Willow is slipping into her YouTube alter ego, Kayleigh, she becomes more interesting. She's still snarky but there's a quality of outright (and outspoken!) honesty to her that I enjoyed a lot (during a disastrous blind date, arranged by her mom): “Our relationship,” I tell him, “is that I was forced to come here by my mom. And that I'm leaving right now. That's all this is.” Among others, it were those scenes (or the one during which Willow “prepares” several guys for her subscribers) that endeared Willow to me. Especially when she reminisces about her past and looks at old school photos (tons of those here as well!) and notices that she painted small blue circles around the faces of her childhood crushes, I can relate to her. That really helps to even out her bitchier character traits. In many more instances, Collyer truly hits home – for me at the very least – and keeps my interest up. Often times I know (or think I do) exactly what she means and that helps keeping me engaged even though “Hermit Girl” is somewhat “verbose” in parts. This shows especially in the middle parts whereas the ending feels a bit rushed. Ultimately, the lightness and fun of “Eleanor Oliphant” are missing dearly here. With Eleanor I felt constantly torn between laughing with her, sometimes about her, crying about her and a lot of other emotions that book triggered in me. That didn't happen with Willow and, I think, that's the main reason I couldn't connect as thoroughly and didn't like her as much. Maybe the somewhat jaded Willow is more realistic than Eleanor but I for one prefer to read about the latter. Nevertheless, if you enjoyed “Eleanor Oliphant” you're likely to enjoy “Hermit Girl” as well. Maybe differently, maybe as a “runner-up” but, honestly, if you're second only to Eleanor Oliphant, you must have gotten something right.

“Die Würde des Menschen ist die strahlende Idee der Aufklärung, sie kann den Hass und die Dummheit lösen, sie ist lebensfreundlich, weil sie von unserer Endlichkeit weiß, und erst durch sie werden wir in einem tiefen und wahren Sinn zu Menschen.” Zu [a:Ferdinand von Schirach 3048443 Ferdinand von Schirach https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1340958280p2/3048443.jpg] kam ich über sein Buch “[b:Verbrechen 6783729 Verbrechen Ferdinand von Schirach https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1327935124s/6783729.jpg 6986071]”. Irgendwo stolperte ich über den Namen dieses Buches und natürlich kannte ich die Familie von Schirach aus der deutschen Geschichte. Ferdinand von Schirach selbst war mir jedoch kein Begriff und so googelte ich ihn und fand schnell heraus, daß er der Enkel Baldur von Schirachs ist, des “Reichsjugendführers” im nationalsozialistischen Deutschland. Nun ist der Nationalsozialismus ein Thema, das mir persönlich sehr wichtig ist. Ich bin 1975 geboren und so ist es vollkommen klar, daß ich keine Schuld an den Verbrechen der Nazis trage. Ich bin aber in Deutschland als Deutscher geboren und so trage ich – mit allen anderen Deutschen zusammen – eine historische Verantwortung, die Geschichte nicht in Vergessenheit geraten zu lassen und eben keinen Schlußstrich oder ähnliches zuzulassen. Werden wir nämlich Geschichtsvergessen, tragen wir eine Mitschuld, sollte sich diese wiederholen. Bis heute jedoch ist mir die “Motivation” für den millionenfachen Mord völlig unbegreiflich. Ich kann nicht nachvollziehen, wie es Menschen möglich war, sich an Planung und Umsetzung solcher Taten zu beteiligen bzw. diese gar zu beginnen. Die Hauptschuldigen sind alle tot, die kleineren “Räder im Getriebe”, Hanning, Gröning und wie sie alle heißen, haben auch keine Antworten und die Angehörigen der Haupttäter schweigen zumeist. So kam es, daß ich “Verbrechen” las, in der Hoffnung, mehr über Baldur von Schirach zu erfahren. In dieser Hinsicht wurde ich enttäuscht. Allerdings zog mich der Stil Ferdinand von Schirachs, seine unemotionale Erzählweise und seine Themen sofort in seinen Bann, in dem ich bis heute dankbar gefangen bin. Ich habe seither alle Bücher von Schirachs gelesen und er gehört für mich zu den großen Autoren des noch jungen 21. Jahrhunderts. Das Rechtsverständnis und –Empfinden eines Ferdinand von Schirachs und der zugrundeliegenden Ideen sind unwahrscheinlich menschlich und menschenfreundlich, ohne dabei rührselig oder emotional zu werden. Das Recht wird als unveräußerliches Gut, das einem jeden Menschen zusteht, wahrgenommen. Persönliches bleibt allerdings bei von Schirach nahezu vollständig außen vor. Es kommt, wie Privates, nicht vor. Das ist nicht schlimm, denn seine Bücher “sprechen” für sich selbst und werden ihren Autor überdauern. Dies sind die Prämissen aller Bücher von Schirachs – bis zu “Kaffee und Zigaretten”, dieser Sammlung von kurzen Erzählungen, persönlichen Erzählungen und winzigen Einblicken ins Private. Stilistisch entspricht auch das vorliegende Buch ganz seinen Vorgängern – direkte, klar Sprache, unmittelbar erzählt, manchmal mit feiner Ironie und dezenten Humor “angereichert”. In 48 “Kapiteln” ist natürlich nicht alles Gold, was glänzt: Nicht alle Kapitel haben mich angesprochen, manche haben mich gar ratlos (aber nie verständnislos!) zurückgelassen. Andere dagegen, z. B. Kapitel 18, in dem es um die Würde des Menschen und zeitlose Grundideen des Rechts geht, haben mich zutiefst berührt. Nicht deswegen, weil diese Ideen so neu wären (im Gegenteil, manche sind 3000 Jahre alt, wie von Schirach selbst schreibt), sondern weil nur ein Ferdinand von Schirach es fertigbringt, diese Ideen so einfach, klar und direkt ins 21. Jahrhundert zu übertragen. “Wenn wir heute Minderheiten nicht schützen – ganz gleich, ob es Juden, Migranten, Asylbewerber, Homosexuelle oder andere sind –, fallen wir wieder zurück ins Dumpfe und Dunkle.” Auch die Analysen der früheren RAF-Verteidiger, Otto Schily, Christian Ströbele und Horst Mahler, sind äußerst interessant zu lesen... “Auf einer Tonbandaufnahme ist Schily zu hören. Er brüllt durch den Saal: »Wir führen gegenüber der Macht das Argument des Rechts ins Feld.« Ich kenne keinen anderen Anwalt, dem spontan solche Sätze gelingen.” ... und von Schirachs Schlußfolgerungen ebenso zutreffend wie amüsant, so z. B. über Ströbele: “Ich würde ihm ohne Zögern meine Brieftasche und meine Wohnungsschlüssel anvertrauen. Aber Schily würde ich als Verteidiger wählen.” Vieles von dem, was Ferdinand von Schirach schreibt, trifft mich bis ins Mark – und in manchen Fällen, weiß ich nicht einmal wirklich warum. Vielleicht habe ich in von Schirachs Werk so etwas wie “Heimat” gefunden, passend jedenfalls wäre es: “»Fehlt dir das alles nicht?« Harold dachte nach. In seinem Gesicht sah ich jetzt den jungen Mann wieder, der er damals war. »Ich glaube nicht, mein Lieber«, sagte er nach einer Weile. »Nein. Heimat ist kein Ort, es ist unsere Erinnerung.«” Und auch über Baldur von Schirach schreibt dessen Enkel ein paar Zeilen, die in der Feststellung kulminieren, vielleicht sei er, Ferdinand von Schirach, “aus Wut und Scham über seine Sätze und seine Taten der geworden, der ich bin.” Ich jedenfalls bin sehr dankbar für die Literatur Ferdinand von Schirachs und bin ganz bei ihm, wenn er gegen Ende des Buches schreibt: “Wir suchen die Bücher, die für uns geschrieben sind.”

I received this book as part of the Early Reviewers program. As I've often received sub-par books, I was somewhat sceptical about this book as well. Turns out I was wrong, to some extent at least.
While “Rise” does have quite a few deus-ex-machina moments (a certain rescue comes to mind), even some (more or less) glaring plot holes (what are the “apparitions” during a trial of our heroine, are some of them actually there, etc. etc.?) and some “why did she do that now?!” moments, this book was a real page-turner for me. I've lost a not-so-small number of hours of sleep over it, actually, which doesn't happen all that often.
In spite of the shortcomings I mentioned before, our heroine is likeable, smart (sometimes...) and obviously fairly powerful. Her primary adversary is written as a multi-faceted character (but still fairly shrouded in mystery at the end of the book) and due to that, a fairly interesting figure. As are several side-kicks of the heroine (yes, sorry, I've forgotten her name as neither her nor the book are ultimately that remarkable :) ) who grow (despite formulaically at times) into their respective roles mostly well.
Another gripe of mine with the book is that certain terms (e. g. “Krigers” from the title) rooted in German are used but mutilated, e. g. in German it's “Krieger” (and has been for centuries!). So if you use foreign words in an attempt to make your book more “exotic” take at least the time to do your homework and “import” those foreign words properly. (After all, we don't write “computer” as “Komputer” in German either.)
Anyway, ultimately, for any fan of the fantasy genre (who has read all the genre's classics) willing to suspend their disbelief a bit more than usual this book is recommended (with some reservations). I'm looking forward to the next instalment in this series.

“KA-TASTROPHY” Or “The story erupted from his mouth like vomit.”


I got this book for free as a win from LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program. Thanks!

There are books I'd love to just completely forget about, e. g. Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter so that I could read them again for the first time. Others, I simply want to forget. This book is one of the latter.

Reading “Jagger Jones and the Mummy's Ankh” does indeed feel like the story erupted from [the author's] mouth like vomit. Seriously, as an author you should be able to at least stay above that level. That seems to be the primary issue, though: The author, Malayna Evans, is the self-professed “author of the middle grade time travel series, The Egyptified Joneses” (from her blurb at Amazon) - despite this being her debut title and she simply can't write:

- Evans's severely limited vocabulary shows all over the place, e. g. all people are doing if they're in distress or even hurt is moaning:

Jagger moaned as his little sister spun and zoomed back into the house.Jagger moaned when his phone Jagger moaned as Tatia draped a dress over Wenher moaned through clenched teeth as she slowed the horses. Jagger moaned. Was he really being profiled in ancient Egypt?

And this is just a careful selection from around 30 moans. The characters' voices often “crack” as well and oftentimes it's not quite clear why – was the cracked voice trying to be stern? Is it just puberty or was the speaker so emotional his voice cracked? Mostly, we don't know. Nor do we care.


- Oh, and grammar surely is important for any author to make themselves clear:

He flinched, startled by a huge, black cat that jumped onto the railing separating the street from the park, running miles along the lake, teeming with bikers and dog walkers.

The railing teems with bikers and dog walkers? Wow, that must be a busy railing, indeed, and so many artistic people!

She leaned into the captain, whispering, as the prince steered he and Aria into the rectangular building on

He and Aria? I think not. Maybe some comma might have helped to save that sentence but, alas, Evans liberally sprinkles them all over the place...

They must be in one of the small, storage rooms adjoining it.

... making it painfully clear she doesn't know how to use them.



Now, I've read books that were saved by their story – not so in this case, though, because the story is bland and uninspired: Two kids get magicked back in time to ancient Egypt, save the Pharaoh and his family and secure “Death life” (afterlife) for one of his daughters. Story telling mostly consists of either someone using mono-syllabic magic (“Bind!”) to make happen whatever needs happening (and that includes everything but the book ending).
Alternatively, Aria (yes, seriously, the “y” stayed over at Ice and Fire) dives into her seemingly bottomless pink purse (or maybe it's a disguised TARDIS?) and – TADA! – finds just the thing they need (chewing gum, bug repellent...) to save the day.


None of the characters are in any way relatable, interesting or at least likeable. In fact, each and every character is boring, clichéd and guaranteed not to develop in any way. You simply don't care if Aria, her brother or anyone else lives or dies. Or the people they try to save.



In a nutshell: This book is a complete, utter, irredeemable failure without any saving graces. Don't believe me? Want to know if this book might actually be for you?

Just try reading the following chapter headings without cringing (my favourites are written in bold) – if you're successful, read the entire thing; otherwise, do something more worthwhile like watching paint dry or grass grow:


- IN DE NILE
- I WANT MY MUMMY!
- A ROYAL SHOCK
- KA-TASTROPHY
- STRUCK BY AMULET-NING
- DRESSED TO ... KIDNAP?
- FOLLOW YOUR PRINCE-IBLES
- DON'T HATE ME ‘CAUSE I'M MUT-IFUL
- WHAT THE CROC?
- PARADING WITH KHONS-WHO?
- TEMPLE RUN
- HOLY HERIHOR
- SNAKE HASTE
- SEIZE THE ... SPRAY?
- THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA
- HISSSSSY FIT
- A BALL AND PAIN
- DA FEET
- NOT TOO SHABTI
- STAY WOKE
- FUR-EVER AND EVER?
- THAT'S CHARMING
- PURR-TING COMPANY
- SELFIE CARE
- HOW DO YOU SPELL HOME?

This book is the sequel to [b:The Bourbon Street Ripper 19422684 The Bourbon Street Ripper (Sins of the Father) Leo King https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1386922437s/19422684.jpg 21832117] by the same author, [a:Leo King 5827216 Leo King https://www.goodreads.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-d9f6a4a5badfda0f69e70cc94d962125.png].If you're interested in this book, you basically have to read the first book because this one starts right after it. You can read my review of the first book here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/478058073That said, this review must be split into two parts. Basically, “A Life Without Fear” is more of the same in a good way. It definitely improves upon the first book and I definitely enjoyed reading most of it - it's another page turner.Unfortunately, the same criticisms apply here, too: Some scenes (more than in book 1) are overly gory. It's not like that was necessary at all but Leo King obviously enjoys writing such scenes. I can live with that but I don't exactly like that aspect.Furthermore, quite a bit of suspension of disbelief has to be applied - superhuman abilities, strange alliances but I don't really have a problem with that. Personally, I smiled and decided to let me get carried away by the story. :-)There are still the voodoo elements and some hints about strange forces that might be at work but those aren't too bad.The resolution of the mystery was a bit harder to grok, though. Suspension of disbelief is not enough anymore at that point - I really had to say to myself, “Ooookaaayyy... This doesn't really feel right but, alas, it's a resolution and it works even though it feels a bit forced.” Still, I thoroughly enjoyed the book up to this point.After said resolution of the mystery the book should definitely have ended and all would have been well. Up to this point, I'd have given this book the same four star rating I awarded the first one...And this is where the second part of this review starts: In the end, the book turns into a completely different genre and I absolutely hated that.In fact, it was so bad, I'm not going to read the third book and will probably avoid the author altogether in the future. Sorry, Leo, but what you pulled off there was a total let-down. If you still want to read the book, stop reading this review here because I'm about to reveal said genre now which might give you some more insight into what might happen than you want to know.In the end, the book turns into absolute supernatural nonsense. What happens in the end effectively ruined the book for me. It's so totally outlandish and badly done, I felt cheated out of a good thriller.I'm actually really, truly sad about it because Leo King seems to be a nice person and both his books had great promise for the future.I'm not superstitious, I don't believe in voodoo, I'm rather the matter-of-fact type of guy and Leo summons every kind of nonsense people have ever come up with. Where he went with his story, I can't follow.

Another book I got from the “Early Reviewers” program on LibraryThing which I'm grateful for, thanks. Unfortunately, “Code of Thieves” has a lot of flaws.
I'll skip the summary which others have already done well.

The problems start with the characters - none of them, including the hero, are believable human beings. In fact, they don't get a chance to be because the author simply lacks the talent for characterisations; let's look at Jo Epstein herself: We don't ever get to know what really drives her. Yes, she worries about her mother's (relative) well-being but she never displays any real emotions. She observes her mother and everyone else but she never really seems emotionally invested - apart from the obligatory relationship she jumps into and even there we we get to see the carnal side but the emotional one is severely lacking.

Everyone in this book is, at best, very roughly outlined but there's no substance to any of the characters. They all behave like any reader of mysteries will expect them, too. In contrast to well-written books, though, the reader won't really care what happens to anyone - will someone die? Yes, maybe but we just observe what happens and because of the lack of emotional substance, we're not reacting emotionally either. It's like watching an experiment in a Petri dish for a non-scientist - one looks at it, mildly wondering what's going to happen and forgetting about it the next day.

This book is fast-food of the worst kind - enjoying good fast-food is a guilty pleasure and we know it won't last long. When you've “consumed” this book, though, there's just indifference - it never had any real effect. It didn't even cause any guilty pleasure of having read and enjoyed a simple, nice mystery or thriller without any real substance like Dan Brown's books. They're similarly devoid of substance but they're greatly enjoyable. Yarrow's book in stark contrast are devoid of anything endearing.

There's more than the characters, though. The descriptions of modern day Russia seem to have originated from the yellow press - over-simplified, cliché-ridden (like the entire book) and bordering on naïveté. I can almost see Mrs. Yarrow typing away in her study after her visit to Russia, feeling like an expert now, having experienced “lumpy beds and bland food” as she tells us in her interview. (In which she praises Google Earth, by the way, because it helped her so much...) There's a lot of (sub-conscious) snobbery in this book.

So, this book is a way below average mystery story. Forgettable and forgivable.

There's one more glaring, annoying and rather unforgivable mistake the author made, though: She obviously thinks we, as her audience, are idiots who will have forgotten the beginning once we're nearing the end of the book (she could be just realistic on the quality of her book, though).

Yarrow almost completely re-uses an entire passage of text. Since it's from the prologue and doesn't contain any spoilers, I'm going to quote an excerpt here:

From the prologue:
“One day Tarzan and I were in Leningrad, and as we walked past the conservatory, I told him about my training on the violin and my boyhood dream of becoming an orchestra conductor. On impulse, Tarzan decided to steal me a violin and dragged me inside. We waited outside the practice rooms and the first unfortunate student to take a break had his instrument liberated. It was a student model but to my ears sounded like a Stradivarius.”

From chapter 22:
“One day Tarzan and I were in Leningrad. We walked past the conservatory and I told him about my training on the violin and my boyhood dream of becoming a conductor. On impulse, Tarzan dragged me inside. We waited outside the practice rooms and the first unfortunate student to take a break had his violin ‘liberated.' It was a cheap, beginner's model but to me it sounded like a Stradivarius.”

There's more like that but the above quotations should illustrate nicely the author's laziness. The author, though, is not the only one who took the quick and easy route - there are a lot of typos, grammatical mistakes and other minor “technical” flaws. They're to be expected in such a cheap publication, though.

In short: Don't read this book. I'm giving it two out of five stars because I wanted to know how it ends - a minimally redeeming fact.

“Sie findet den Weg hinaus aus dem Flugloch, dreht eine Runde vor dem Bienenkorb, ehe sie allmählich den Abstand zu ihrem Zuhause vergrößert. Aber noch ist sie nicht bereit.”


Ein weiteres Mal läßt mich ein Buch recht ratlos zurück: “Die Geschichte der Bienen” von Maja Lunde ist zweifellos intelligent, kritisch und zutreffend. Am Ende – und immer, wenn es auch zwischendurch “menschelt” – ist es auch ein kraftvolles und berührendes Buch.

Leider sind die Längen zumindest am Anfang spürbar: Bemüht erzählt Lunde in drei Zeit- und Erzählebenen von der Geschichte der drei Protagonisten, ihrer Familien und ihrer jeweiligen Beziehung zu den Bienen.

William, im Jahr 1852, ist mäßig erfolgreicher Saatgutkaufmann und Naturforscher, der – so meint er zumindest – seiner Familie seine Leidenschaft für die Forschung geopfert hat und daran zerbricht.

George, der vermeintliche Realist mit großen Träumen, der als Imker in den ländlichen USA lebt und arbeitet:

“»Ich liebe Star Wars. Deswegen bin ich noch lange kein Jedi geworden.«“

Tao, die Getriebene, die die eine kurze Stunde, die sie mit ihrem einzigen Sohn, Wei-Wen, am Tag verbringen kann, dafür nutzen möchte, diesem eine bessere Zukunft zu ermöglichen. Vielleicht tut sie auch zuviel des Guten; vielleicht tut ihr Mann, Kuan, auch zu wenig desselben – es muß offen bleiben:

“Wir haben viele Stunden, da können wir einiges schaffen. Ich würde ihm so gern das Zählen beibringen«, erklärte ich.”

Sicher ist nur: Wei-Wen ist der Schlüssel zur persönlichen Geschichte Taos und Kuans sowie auch zur übergreifenden Handlung.

Etwa die Hälfte des Buches wird aufgewandt, die Protangonisten, William, George und Tao, und deren höchst unterschiedliche Charaktere haarfein zu beleuchten. Hier ist es auch, wo ich deutliche Längen gespürt habe – das Buch “zieht sich”.

Allerdings auf unbestritten hohem Niveau – nie wird die Charakterisierung plump oder platt. Das Mißfallen, der sprichwörtliche “Kloß im Hals” auf eine vermeintlich schlechte Nachricht hin wird “traditionell” behandelt und verarbeitet:

“Ich warf einen ordentlichen Speichelklumpen aus, und die Fliege verschwand, ich sah nicht, wohin, wollte ihren Weg aber auch nicht weiter verfolgen.”

Auf diese eher indirekte Weise werden Denken und Handeln der Personen glaubwürdig und lebensecht. Das ist zweifellos ein großes Verdienst und erhöht die Wucht des machtvollen Endes.


Auch ein leiser, feiner Humor findet sich an vielen Stellen des Buches und ich fühlte mich auch immer mal wieder erinnert:

“In mir kribbelte es vor Erwartung, denn jetzt ging es los, endlich ging es los. »Es gibt Essen!« Thildas Stimme zerschnitt das Summen der Insekten und schlug die Vögel in die Flucht.”


Andererseits aber leidet das Buch zeit- bzw. zeilenweise an “Kalenderspruch-itis”:

“Ich hatte geglaubt, mich entscheiden zu müssen, aber ich konnte beides in Einklang bringen, das Leben und die Leidenschaft.”

Dieses Motiv wurde so oft verwandt, daß es sich mittlerweile vorwiegend klischeehaft oder - sofern intendiert - selbstironisch liest. Eine ernsthafte Verwendung wie hier – nein, das kommt deutlich zu spät.


Dennoch: Nach etwa der Hälfte des Buches wird direkter und unmittelbarer erzählt. Es wird vielleicht ein bißchen weniger reflexiv, dafür aber lebendiger, zeitweise wirklich mitreißend und spannend, teils interessant und sprachlich ausgesprochen schön und fließend.

Menschlich glaubwürdige Dialoge zeigen die Befindlichkeiten; auch im beinahe Banalen spiegelt sich Nähe wider:

“Er feixte. »Lass mal hören, Papa. Wie ist das mit den Bienen und Blumen?« Ich lachte. Er auch. Das wärmte.”


Leider bleibt es nicht immer beim Indirekten, bei der Kritik ohne den erhobenen Zeigefinger; manchmal, so muß man vermuten, meint Lunde auf uns “grobe Klötze” Leser mit dem “groben Keil” Moral direkt einhämmern zu müssen.

Sie wird dann belehrend und moralisierend, was diesem Buch nicht gerecht wird:

“Er sah mich nicht an, redete einfach nur weiter, hob seine Stimme. »Du wirst auch wieder einen Kollaps erleben. Es wird wieder passieren.« Jetzt sprach er laut. »Die Bienen sterben, Papa. Und nur wir können etwas dagegen unternehmen.« Ich drehte mich zu ihm. So hatte ich ihn noch nie reden hören, ich versuchte mich an einem Lächeln, das zu einer schiefen Grimasse geriet. »Wir? Du und ich.« Er lächelte nicht, schien aber auch nicht wütend zu sein. Er war todernst. »Wir, die Menschen. Wir müssen etwas ändern. Darüber habe ich doch gesprochen, als wir in Maine waren. Wir dürfen dieses System nicht unterstützen. Wir müssen etwas ändern, ehe es zu spät ist.«”

Ja, sicher, wir müssen etwas ändern, aber nicht demonstratives Aufbegehren oder – noch drastischer formuliert – Aufwiegelung wird da helfen. Die weitgehende Finesse eines Romans wie dieses jedoch schon eher.

Insbesondere dann, wenn die drei Erzählstränge des Romans am Ende miteinander verknüpft werden und das Schicksal der Menschheit anhand des Lebens dreier Menschen (oder eines Menschen, wie man es nimmt) erzählt wird.

Da nimmt das “Schicksal” massiv seinen Lauf und man gibt sich, vielleicht auch nur für einen Moment, der Hoffnung wider besseres Wissen hin, um wenigstens einen Moment länger (wieder) zu glauben, alles werde gut. Wird es nicht; für niemanden in keiner Zeitebene:

“Da beugte er den Kopf vor, sein Gesicht zersprang, es löste sich gleichsam vor mir auf. Er stieß drei tiefe Schluchzer aus. Sein Körper brodelte unter meiner Hand.”

Hier am Ende brilliert Lunde sprachlich wie erzählerisch und spielt ihre Stärke aus: Sie spielt mit unglaublichen Formulierungen. Tief bewegend und authentisch.


Am Ende bleibt ein wenig Hoffnung...

“Wir drehten uns zum Bienenstock um, und so blieben wir Seite an Seite stehen und betrachteten ihn. Unsere Hände waren sich ganz nahe, aber keiner nahm die des anderen, wir waren wie zwei Teenager, die sich nicht trauten. Die Wärme zwischen uns war wieder da.”

... individuell in allen Zeiten...


“»Es war nicht deine Schuld, Tao. Es war nicht deine Schuld.«”

... wie auch global für die Menschheit.


Genau das ist der Verdienst Lundes: Sie zeigt im Kleinen und auf der persönlichen Ebene die Gefahr, die Tragik, aber auch die verbleibende Hoffnung und Liebe auf, die uns alle, als Menschheit, bleibt und letztlich hoffentlich eint.

Wäre Lunde dies etwas kürzer und prägnanter gelungen, so wäre ich auf jeden Fall bei vier Sternen; so bleibt es bei dreien und der etwas vagen und bangen Frage, ob das Ende ohne die lange Einleitung in der vorliegenden Form funktioniert hätte.

Was meinst Du dazu?