The only problem with this novel is that its covers are too close together. I wanted more of Slava, his bumpy love life, his venal grandfather, even Herr Barber.
So many critics seem to have been knocked on their behinds by Dicker's novel that I can't be sure I'm not missing something...They see a masterpiece; I see a completely ordinary, amiably cartoonish and well aerated page-turner...What the book does well is what all good thrillers should: it twists and turns.
If this volume lacks some of the heat and intellectual force of the first two books, it feels like an essential building block. This writer is constructing a towering edifice, in what feels like real time. Few artistic projects of our era feel more worth attending to.
...his narrative is focused on not eating what the rest of the crew is eating, not sleeping where others sleep...he waits in his cabin alone, wondering what the hell is going on. Dyer might as well be on a cruise ship, and he knows it.
He says that the financial rescue programs enacted in the crisis years were a success because the alternative—which no one can ever know—would have been far worse. What we do know is that, six years later, the economy is suffering through a historically weak recovery and the emergency programs haven't ended.
The story in the book of Mr. Greenwald's contacts and conversations with Mr. Snowden and others may very well be true; I have no basis to question it. And Mr. Greenwald's political arguments are, of course, open to debate. But his portrait of the nature and goals of the NSA programs is simply false.
And so the appearance of William D. Cohan's "The Price of Silence,'' in part a comprehensive examination of the case, may prompt weary sighs...And yet there are good reasons to plunge into Mr. Cohan's chronicle—not least, his meticulous research and evenhanded tone.
Throughout, vivid details of his search in blistering heat for holy sites both authentic and dubious anchor this complex, compelling spiritual testimony. "You've met my Jesus," he concludes. "Now meet your own."
Given this long and complex history, it’s a surprise to find that the book is so readable, and so nearly complete. Perhaps it was never finished because the strain of being known as one of the finest prose stylists of his generation proved too much for Leigh Fermor’s perfectionism.
His book, "Mad as Hell," turns out to be a reasonably diverting account—almost shot-by-shot—of the making of the movie, padded out with the inevitable behind-the-scenes intrigue, the critical response and a stab at assessing the film's enduring significance, such as it is.
Catling taught with Sebald in the last decade of his life, and her flowing translation pays crucial attention to the prosody and contours of Sebald’s sentences.
Nesbo references the clichés directly — he knows we know — so that when a hung-over Hole initially questions whether he should take the Bangkok job, the head of crime squad tells him, “Cut the Philip Marlow stuff, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”
Orfeo is a long novel, but it never feels so. The book sets its themes early — grief and love, exploration and its limits — and plays variations on them, some of such power it is the only thing that forces you to stop.
These depictions of Roger Ailes as something other than a frothing, ratings-mad showman-provocateur may be cases of damning with faint praise. But it’s about as a fair and balanced an account as one could hope to read about someone who has so weightily tipped the scales of American political life to the right.
The Burglary shows how a small group of committed individuals performed the bravest act of all, exposing Hoover's tyrannical misrule to the light of day and the acid test of popular opinion.
Priscilla brilliantly exposes the tangled complexities behind that question so easily asked from the comfort of a peacetime armchair: "What would I have done?"
...magic is transmitted via a narrator's voice, whose captions punctuate the frames, combined with speech bubbles from the characters whose animated facial expressions mirror their dialogue.
Along the way, concepts such as hedonistic sustainability...and the ideal depth of a front yard...are explained with Gladwellian facility...Mercifully, the text isn’t overballasted with such pop science clichés.
...a lively account of his experiences with the joys of weightlessness as well as the discomfort of leaving the ship for a space walk. A page-turning memoir of life as a decorated astronaut.
This is, quite simply, a must-read book. It is characteristically brutal, tragic, darkly humorous, and riveting.