frustrated
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this book was highly recommended to me, however I felt extremely frustrated & disappointed with the read. The novel started well and is indeed well written, however it is very hard to stay with the novel I found myself drifting...
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Promising start, but doesn't grip
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I thought the start of this book was promising, with a good account of the meeting in the museum and its aftermath, but it fell apart after that. I found the whole central section to be completely nonsensical, and began to wonder if some sort of contrived homage to "The Magus" (a much better book, I think) was being developed. I also found the repeated accounts of what Lucas had to eat, drink, wear, ingest etc tedious, probably because I'd stopped caring about him. This book was bought for me because I love Barcelona, and there are some flashes of the gracefullness of that city here (as in "Shadow Of The Wind"), but too often it descends into a list of street names, with little description of the scenery for those who can't remember which side of the Ramblas they're on.
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Perfume
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Oh yes, they existed, Pound, Eliot. Mind you, the grammarian's fixation on commas and neat word boundaries was never their business. There also used to be a tradition where the thinking that took place beyond the shores of the Good Old Island was not labelled Continental Philosophy, where the burden of democratising the Globe lay not in the hands of a bunch of families, merrily taking turns at presidential folly. Was there really? Well, yes, hypothetically, a world, a project which set out to keep symbol and icon apart. That Paradise, however, is lost. And forever. And it is this collapse that the Colour of a Dog is mourning. It mourns the times where intellectuals blushed when they stumbled over the pronunciation of names - Baudelaire, Alighieri, Nietzsche. Simply, where there was room for Something Else. Where ambiguity was intriguing and not considered a case for the economist. Where an address in English stood a chance of being answered in a foreing idiom and with a slight alinasal tremble. Where anthoropologically informed textbooks did not propagate field work as a pseudo-salvatory advent of the Scientist by helicopter - to do what? Gather data? Drop bombs? Learn to swear and order Stella in Their Language?
Where do you retreat when your idiom has become a touristic site? How do you write in English and stay sane? The Dog might take you to a few suggestive answers.
If you spend your summer on a continental beach - read this book. The waters will need to cool a few grey cells in addition to submerging your own nagging doubts about the benefits of quality managed civilisation on the binge. And if it stirs desire - take a deep breath and be careful with the Tinto.
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Poor
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The book started off promising with the writer building intrigue and suspense. The language, flow and ideas within the first few pages suggest a novel that will be a philosophical exploration as well as a mystery/adventure. However, the book disintegrates into a dismal narrative told in the first person to a group of two dimensional, boring characters. A very disappointing and sometimes irritating read.
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"Welcome to Barcelona's twilight zone"
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For anyone tired of reading about serial killers on the loose or yet another search for the Holy Grail, this book is the perfect antidote. The initial intrigue of the mysterious appearance of a postcard pushed under the door of our hero, Lucas' apartment takes a 90 degree turn when he meets the homeless 'Roof People' of Barcelona's Gothic quarter then he and his newly acquired girlfriend Nuria are kidnapped by a religious cult who believe they are reincarnation of members of the Cathar Sect from the 13th Century. As Lucas relates the details of his experiences to his motley associates Sean Hogg and Igbar Zoff, both so eccentric as to be totally believable, he slowly but surely slides into his own personal drug and alcohol hell. Despite the often surreal twilight feel to the book, it's totally compelling and like all good books, the reader is left with a feeling of missing old friends once the final page is turned.
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