Kajwan
This is truly a first for me - I “read” this book by listening to a rap version sung on social media. The reel I watched on Instagram didn't credit the rapper, so I don't know who orchestrated that bizarre “audiobook”, but it covered the entire book, so I can rest assured that I've properly finished it.
My Best Friend's Exorcism is a horror novel that leaves me with conflicting emotions. While it feels lengthy at times and the pacing isn't always on point, I can't help but admit how much I enjoyed it. Some of the symbolism feels undercooked, hinting at deeper meanings that never fully materialize. However, when the book hits its stride, it's genuinely terrifying - delivering bone-chilling moments that had me on edge. Despite its flaws, I found myself immersed in its increasingly dark world, guiltily savoring every scary development. It may not be perfect, but at its peak, it taps into primal fears with unsettling precision, and by the final paragraphs, it managed to bring tears to my eyes. What else is there to desire? I give it a shaking 5, not a solid one, but a 5 nevertheless.
I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid is a thrilling psychological horror that feels tailor-made for those who love road trips filled with deep pondering and snowy nightscapes. The story kicks off with a couple, Jake and his girlfriend, on a road trip to visit Jake's parents at their remote farm. The journey is perfect for wandering thoughts and introspection. As the protagonist delves into her thoughts, the narrative skillfully shifts, blurring the lines between reality and the psychological realm, creating an eerie sense of suspense.
For fans of horror films and detective dramas, this book offers a gripping blend of both. The tension builds masterfully, especially during the dinner scene at Jake's parents' house, transforming a simple meal into a chilling, almost “dinner from Hell” experience. Every detail serves as a crucial clue in this mind-bending mystery, making it a detective-like experience. I'm Thinking of Ending Things is an unforgettable journey, combining contemplation and horror in a way that lingers long after the last page is turned.
I found The Alchemist to be immoral, but that pales in comparison with this horrible excuse of a novel.
Veronika Decides to Die is outright dangerous. Dangerous in its approach. Dangerous in preaching mental illness, romanticizing it, mystifying it to an unimaginable level.
Of course, I fell for a few scenes and tidbits along the way, but altogether, this book is a clear and present danger to those susceptible to ill-thought interpretations of evident crises.
What a load of nonsense! What an abhorrent immoral misleading pile of lies!
The world would've been a Hellish landscape, in a far worse shape than it is now, if people left everyone and everything behind in pursuit of what the voice in their head told them.
This book is corrupt to its vile core, preaching and praising selfishness above all and many other vices on the way.
The Alchemist is not a roadmap to fulfilling dreams, but a dreamy escape from reality, leading to misery, self-centeredness, and a total lack of compassion and understanding towards other fellows.
I dove into You Can Kill Me two days ago, unprepared for the intense grip it would take on my attention span. Here I am, finished in a whirlwind, both impressed and wanting a lot more.
The book's core concept is undeniably captivating; the most controversial criminal case of the Imperial Iran, or so claimed by the author. The controversy that's only mentioned in the book, not shown.
The exploration of this case is original in itselfand brimming with potential. It's clear the author has meticulously researched the topic, leaving no stone unturned in the initial stages. However, this thoroughness seems to have created a roadblock while developing the book into its final form.
The narrative stumbles at times, weighed down by minor details that pad the pages without significantly propelling the narrative forward. It feels as though the author grappled with the source material, hesitant to push beyond its boundaries. This hesitancy translates into a stifling adherence that restricts the book's full potential, leaving it significantly undercooked.
While You Can Kill Me is a fast-paced and intriguing read, it left me yearning for a bolder exploration of the case, and more importantly the absent protagonist, the victim. With a little more authorial freedom, this study could have truly soared.
Sadegh Hedayat's The Blind Owl isn't your typical bedtime story. It's a whirlwind descent into the psyche of a tormented narrator, but unlike some dark narratives, it's surprisingly readable. Hedayat's prose manages to be both fragmented and strangely fluid, pulling you through the narrator's descent with a disturbing ease. It's a one-sitting wonder, not only because it's short, but mainly because the story grips you and refuses to let go until the very end.
The emotions and phenomena the narrator encounters are as varied as they are unsettling. He grapples with love, loss, and a suffocating sense of alienation above all. The line between reality and delusion blurs, leaving the reader questioning everything. But within this unsettling landscape, there's a strange beauty almost ethereal. Hedayat's use of symbolism, particularly the recurring image of the owl, adds another layer of intrigue.
And then there's the ethereal woman, the object of the narrator's obsessive love, maybe a strange case of de Clérambault's. Her character is never fully fleshed out, yet her presence hangs heavy throughout the story. She's an enigma, a symbol, and a testament to the enduring power of a haunting image. Even after finishing the novel, you can't help but wonder about her and the impact she has on the narrator – and by a logical extension, the reader.
The Blind Owl is a challenging but rewarding read. It's not a book for everyone, but for those who dare to delve into its depths, it offers a truly unique and unforgettable experience. An experience I didn't even imagine was waiting for me when I picked up this rather thin volume.
Who could imagine such a promising story coming to this disappointing end? The closing volume of this trilogy is borderline incoherent at times and almost entirely devoid of the novelties and exciting elements that made the first volume outstanding and the second one tolerable. The inconsistencies I mentioned in my review of the first volume are not even mentioned, let alone resolved. Out of all the minor and major issues I have with the finale, the most annoying is the characters acting glaringly out of character. What a shame!
The repetitiveness has suffocated this trilogy. By the middle of the 2nd book, everything seems to have been said, mentioned, or witnessed once. The narrative gradually starts to work against itself. The novelty is unfortunately worn off beyond repair and the parallel stories don't quite match the way they did in the first book. Even though new and promising characters and situations are introduced in this volume, they don't amount to much and are summarily developed and put aside.
Now that I look back, I wish it had ended with the first volume, and not been dragged out to become this rather dull, almost cliché story.
Despite my dissipating appreciation for the trilogy, I will keep reading the final volume and post my opinion about it.
The Vertical Cemetery is the first volume in what promises to be an intriguing trilogy, Gate of the Dead. Despite some minor—and at times, major—inconsistencies, the book provides a thorough introduction to a compelling story. It effectively sets the tone, establishes the structure, and introduces the characters, all while setting the stage for future developments with a few clever moves.
The narrative's parallel structure is one of its strongest points, weaving together two distinct worlds in a manner that is both engaging and satisfying. When the story bridges the gaps between these worlds, it creates a sense of profound connection between the past and the present through showing undeniable similarities. This interweaving of narratives adds depth and richness to the book, making it a captivating read.
However, the book is not without its flaws. It could have greatly benefited from more rigorous editing. There are several historical inconsistencies and descriptions that sometimes don't make sense. These issues could have been addressed with careful editing, which would have elevated the book's overall quality.
Despite these shortcomings, The Vertical Cemetery succeeds in evoking a range of emotions. It fills the reader with dread at times and thrills at others, showcasing the author's ability to create an immersive and dynamic experience. The story's potential shines through, leaving readers eager to dive into the second book of the trilogy.
One of the strongest criticisms against A Confederacy of Dunces basically boils down to the fact that there's not one single likable character in this entire tome. Although not entirely devoid of truth, this book is arguably filled to the brim with characters vivid and pretty much alive! Moving with spectacular alacrity across pages, streets, from homes to factories and to bars, and back. And do you like everyone you meet daily?
Leave these characters with different worldviews to interact with each other, hinder each other, assist each other, and accompany each other in a bleak world of meaninglessness, confusion, and misunderstanding, then add a total lack of ability to correctly and humanely connect with each other. The final result tends to turn out exceptional one way or another.
This graphic novel is beautifully put together, but the pace feels rushed and in my opinion, doesn't do justice to the source material. Nevertheless, one shouldn't forget that it's a compact story narrated in the span of a mere 160 pages which can be read in one sitting. For this reason, Wool: The Graphic Novel can be considered a pleasant read, to enjoy for one hour or two, and then put aside for good.
Like many other graphic novels of the Stranger Things what I liked the most about this one was the atmosphere; that seclusion, the building dread, the looming storm. It felt a little rushed at times, but kept the boiling tension simmering to the very end. I would love to see this as a stand-alone movie; that would work out perfectly.
Somewhere near the end of the book, Bevins writes:
None of the systems set up by the Soviet Union are still here. On the other hand, the countries that chose, or were forced onto, paths into the American-led global capitalist system have stayed on them. The countries that did not often fell onto similar paths in the past twenty-five years. Over that same time period, the world has undergone a process often called “globalization.” That term certainly caught on for a while. But for those who want to be truly accurate, a better word is “Americanization,” Westad says. For better or worse, almost all of us now live in the global economic system that Indonesia and Brazil entered in the mid-1960s, a worldwide capitalist order with the United States as its leading military power and center of cultural production. That may change soon—who knows. But we're still here.
In this relatively compact book, Johnson draws a line connecting a DEA agent in the United States, drug cartels in Colombia, big-time organized crime figures in Italy, and notorious terrorists on many “the most wanted” lists across the globe stationed mainly in the Middle East. He picks 3 real-life figures, handling them like characters to be developed, and from then on, the ink sprawls to connect with other bolts.
Two of these three characters are on the opposite ends of the spectrum; a DEA agent on one end, and a terrorist on the other. The third character falls somewhere in the middle, bringing about all it takes to connect the previous two.
The pacing leaves much to be desired since it is not evenly organized across the three main characters. I can assume that it is entirely due to source material problems. I think the writer had had direct access to one of the figures, and ample evidence and archival material regarding the other, but when it comes to the third figure, the limitations start to show themselves.
It is noteworthy that what the book lacks in pacing, very well makes up in other aspects. And I must say that I'm eagerly waiting for Johnson's next book, whatever that might be.
ZeroZeroZero: Look at Cocaine and All You See Is Powder. Look Through Cocaine and You See the World.
Considered a sequel (as far as non-fiction books can go) to Gomorrah, Saviano's debut, published 8 years before this, ZeroZeroZero once again puts on display the scheme of organized crime, this time on an international scale; South America, Western Europe, the United States, and North Africa.
Much like Gomorrah, this book is a combination of the author's musings on one hand and facts about the international operations of narcotraffickers and different branches of law enforcement around the globe on the other. And much like Gomorrah to my dismay, whenever Saviano approaches the subjects from his home country, he seems to forget that they are just names, like the names of those from other places, and delves so deep into the details that everything becomes a blurry monolith, extremely difficult to comprehend. When he puts his Italian macro lens aside and picks up a wider lens to capture the larger picture, his writing, the rapid succession of details, becomes comprehensible.
The author tries to present the reader with a whole picture through minor details, brief stories, interviews, memories, snippets of information, and short biographies of those involved. This is mostly a successful attempt, because the lines are drawn clearly, and the shapes soon start to emerge from the vague lines.
I was looking for a good starting point to take on reading Spider-Man and I finally landed here. Ultimate Spider-Man: Power and Responsibility is pretty much your basic introduction into the Spider-verse. All the key ingredients are there and it takes you step-by-step deeper and deeper into this world. Nothing outlandish, nothing that stands out in particular, and a decent read.
This book initially appeared as a faint, yet persistent blip on my literary radar, coinciding precisely with the revelation of Martin Scorsese's latest cinematic endeavor. As time advanced, that modest blip steadily swelled into a resplendent beacon of anticipation. Now, on the precipice of the film's release, I have concluded this mesmerizing narrative with profound satisfaction, grateful that the movie inspired me to delve into this intricate, exhilarating, and profoundly poignant tale.
Throughout the narrative, the subtle undercurrents of race and ethnicity, which ebb and flow with the story's myriad twists and turns, serve as the sturdy spine of this enthralling tale. The characters are introduced with extraordinary attention to detail, surpassing the depth of characterization found in many works of fiction, and the thorough research dedicated to the various aspects of the crimes is palpable.
However, it is with a tinge of regret that I must acknowledge a somewhat hurried pace in the book's third segment, coincidentally the part with which I felt the deepest connection. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, Killers of the Flower Moon is an engrossing blend of true crime and history, a literary confluence that unfolds like a riveting mystery, interwoven with a tapestry of tragic events that have the capacity to cast a shadow of sorrow upon the reader's heart.
Zibakalam's Reza Shah can be an intensely concise introductory book on this king most suitable to younger readers and broader audiences if shortened a tad. The book stands at 300 pages with only a handful of resources. One can literally count the references in this book on the fingers of one hand, and this is the biggest downside of Zibakalam's work.
Having that said, the endeavor Zibakalam has undertaken should not be neglected based on weak research. He has tried to shed light on one of the most influential figures in the modern history of Iran and he has more-or-less done what he has embarked on.
Reza Shah doesn't bring anything new to the table for the reader who seeks further analysis and nuanced knowledge of the era, but it rather compiles data that is scattered across hundreds of pages in the span of a rather thin volume.
For this, Zibakalam deserves applause. I think the problem lies with the advertisement (or lack thereof) for this book. Ordinary readers may think this is a book by a professor of the most prestigious university in the country, whereas it could've been published under a pseudonym by Zibakalam and null the criticism about the limited number of resources.
All in all, this should not be treated as an “academic” read, but a “popular” history book, and a rather good one at that (considering the lack of competition).
Merged review:
Zibakalam's Reza Shah can be an intensely concise introductory book on this king most suitable to younger readers and broader audiences if shortened a tad. The book stands at 300 pages with only a handful of resources. One can literally count the references in this book on the fingers of one hand, and this is the biggest downside of Zibakalam's work.
Having that said, the endeavor Zibakalam has undertaken should not be neglected based on weak research. He has tried to shed light on one of the most influential figures in the modern history of Iran and he has more-or-less done what he has embarked on.
Reza Shah doesn't bring anything new to the table for the reader who seeks further analysis and nuanced knowledge of the era, but it rather compiles data that is scattered across hundreds of pages in the span of a rather thin volume.
For this, Zibakalam deserves applause. I think the problem lies with the advertisement (or lack thereof) for this book. Ordinary readers may think this is a book by a professor of the most prestigious university in the country, whereas it could've been published under a pseudonym by Zibakalam and null the criticism about the limited number of resources.
All in all, this should not be treated as an “academic” read, but a “popular” history book, and a rather good one at that (considering the lack of competition).