Imagine, if you will, that the story in Genesis of children born to fallen angels and human women was true: after one passing reference in the Bible, these "giants," called Nephilim, disappeared from view. Or did they? Danielle Trussoni's Angelology explores the nefarious influence the Nephilim have had on history since the Flood, killing and oppressing with wanton and inhuman cruelty. To combat their hold on human civilization, scholars have obsessively studied the Nephilim, forming angelological societies dedicated to freeing humanity from Nephilistic control. At the center of this struggle is the Lyre of Orpheus, which originally belonged to Michael the Archangel, and which was given to the fallen angels in their prison beneath the Rhodopes Mountains in the Balkans. This celestial instrument has the power to manipulate matter, and in the hands of the Nephilim, it could cause unimaginable destruction. It's up to one young woman, a nun in a convent in upstate New York and heir to a long heritage of angelological families, to piece together the puzzle of the lyre's whereabouts and prevent the Nephilim from realizing their own devices.
I was very intrigued by the premise of the novel, and found myself quickly engrossed. The style and the narrative structure, making much use of flashbacks and epistolary features, are quite reminiscent of Elizabeth Kostova's novels, particularly The Historian. Ultimately, however, the climax of the novel feels rushed and the reader isn't given sufficient detail to clearly follow the final events. Points of view switch with abandon and there are no markers to guide the reader through the pivotal last pages of the story. That being said, if you prefer your books with nebulous finales and like to imagine for yourself the ultimate outcome, this book may be a good candidate for your list. Trussoni's world is fully realized and features compelling characters--for the most part.
Showing posts with label thrillers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thrillers. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Last Ember by Daniel Levin
I've already confessed to a weakness for Dan Brownian novels, so the latest one I've read shouldn't come as a surprise choice to anyone--and the subject matter of choice is of particular interest to me. The Last Ember features a young American lawyer named Jonathan Marcus, a former classics student, now a corporate lawyer, summoned mysteriously to Rome in order to testify in an antiquities case regarding broken pieces of the Forma Urbis, a stone map of ancient Rome. His opposite number, Dr. Emili Travia, former girlfriend of Jonathan, quickly becomes involved in the mysterious reason for his visit, a millennia-old cover-up regarding the true fate of the Menorah of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, long believed to have been brought back to Rome by Titus and then lost to history. Jonathan and Emili must struggle against corrupt police, nefarious artifact destruction around the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, and even Jonathan's past in order to uncover the truth and preserve the past, using Flavius Josephus's writings to bring light to the mystery.
Levin, a Harvard-educated man, writes well and constructs a great narrative with compelling characters who are actually three-dimensional, unlike some of his counterparts in the Dan Brownian world. The novel appears to be meticulously researched, full of classical quotations and fascinating information, and while obviously a work of fiction gains a great sense of reality from the details woven into the story.
Highly recommended for fans of history as well as lovers of Dan Brown!
Levin, a Harvard-educated man, writes well and constructs a great narrative with compelling characters who are actually three-dimensional, unlike some of his counterparts in the Dan Brownian world. The novel appears to be meticulously researched, full of classical quotations and fascinating information, and while obviously a work of fiction gains a great sense of reality from the details woven into the story.
Highly recommended for fans of history as well as lovers of Dan Brown!
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Marks of Cain by Tom Knox
In a departure from yesterday's review comes a title I just finished this morning before lunch--one that I probably wouldn't recommend to anyone except my sister, who loves to read adrenaline-pumping-style books regardless of their relative merit. That may be a little overgeneralized, but as I once said, I'm allowed to make generalizations when I'm standing on a chair. Or blogging from my personal literary soapbox. Which is, in my imagination, somewhat chair-like.
Anyhow, I will admit to generally enjoying the perusal of Dan Brown-esque novels (which are currently rather ubiquitous), and while I loved The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons, I didn't love The Lost Symbol (too cookie-cutter and similar to his last novels, plus I guessed the "big" revelation that is so essential to Brown's plots). Steve Berry, however, a lesser known but more prolific writer in the same style, also attempts to tackle similarly interesting issues but without the somewhat self-conscious desire to stir up talk about sensitive issues.
Tom Knox (which is a pen name for a British journalist) seems to write his books in order to provoke controversy. His earlier novel, The Genesis Secret, took a religious concept, mixed in some modern science, added a suitably manly protagonist, and dolloped a fair bit of sex and profanity to finish the job. The same thing goes on in The Marks of Cain, which drags in everything from medieval witch burnings to eugenics to the Holocaust to genetic diseases, with a result about as mixed as the ingredients. The plot goes something like this: David Martinez, orphaned at fifteen, is called to his dying Spanish grandfather's hospital bed to receive a well worn map and a vague confession about the past that prompts him to follow the route laid out on the old atlas--with the help of a cool couple million dollars his grandpop had lying around. Meanwhile, Simon Quinn, mediocre journalist extraordinaire, is investigating brutally cruel murders in and around Britain ... the only link being the victims' origins in the Basque country of southern France and northern Spain. As Martinez follows the trail, he meets a beautiful blond Jewish woman, runs afoul of a cannibalistic ETA terrorist, and generally gets to travel unglamorously to Germany and Namibia.
While somewhat thought-provoking and set in exotic locales, this lacks all of the sparkle of other Dan Brown wannabes, substituting violence and sex for plot holes. It was fascinating to see how the background of eugenics had a direct influence on the Holocaust--if I can trust the background scholarship. (The jury is out on that one.) Overall, I wouldn't recommend it except for a case of extreme airport boredom.
Anyhow, I will admit to generally enjoying the perusal of Dan Brown-esque novels (which are currently rather ubiquitous), and while I loved The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons, I didn't love The Lost Symbol (too cookie-cutter and similar to his last novels, plus I guessed the "big" revelation that is so essential to Brown's plots). Steve Berry, however, a lesser known but more prolific writer in the same style, also attempts to tackle similarly interesting issues but without the somewhat self-conscious desire to stir up talk about sensitive issues.
Tom Knox (which is a pen name for a British journalist) seems to write his books in order to provoke controversy. His earlier novel, The Genesis Secret, took a religious concept, mixed in some modern science, added a suitably manly protagonist, and dolloped a fair bit of sex and profanity to finish the job. The same thing goes on in The Marks of Cain, which drags in everything from medieval witch burnings to eugenics to the Holocaust to genetic diseases, with a result about as mixed as the ingredients. The plot goes something like this: David Martinez, orphaned at fifteen, is called to his dying Spanish grandfather's hospital bed to receive a well worn map and a vague confession about the past that prompts him to follow the route laid out on the old atlas--with the help of a cool couple million dollars his grandpop had lying around. Meanwhile, Simon Quinn, mediocre journalist extraordinaire, is investigating brutally cruel murders in and around Britain ... the only link being the victims' origins in the Basque country of southern France and northern Spain. As Martinez follows the trail, he meets a beautiful blond Jewish woman, runs afoul of a cannibalistic ETA terrorist, and generally gets to travel unglamorously to Germany and Namibia.While somewhat thought-provoking and set in exotic locales, this lacks all of the sparkle of other Dan Brown wannabes, substituting violence and sex for plot holes. It was fascinating to see how the background of eugenics had a direct influence on the Holocaust--if I can trust the background scholarship. (The jury is out on that one.) Overall, I wouldn't recommend it except for a case of extreme airport boredom.
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