The book starts in my home city where I grew up. There are some details that I can picture well: the statue on the High Street that looks like a knife surely must be the Exeter riddle sculpture, though I can't say that I ever look at it this tall, pointy thing with its big silver balls and think 'knife'. But maybe that's just me. As I'm writing this review, I can't imagine which high school Nick, Mae and Jamie would have attended. Much like watching an episode of Torchwood (or reading one of the novels), any verisimilitude is lost on me as I try to figure out the geography in my own head. Perhaps it's simply a risk of urban fantasy and trying to equate the reality that you know with the reality presented in the book.
A few times I almost gave up reading it. It wasn't until the last hundred or so pages that I actually found myself invested in the plot or characters; I'm not sure whether I want to read the sequel or the upcoming third part of the trilogy.
The narrative hugs the protagonist Nick closely throughout the book, sticking so close to him that it seems only a short jump to a first person viewpoint. I found myself hating Nick more and more, even within the first few chapters. He was too strong, too witty, too detached from the world and cocksure; I was left with the overwhelming feeling that this simply wasn't a sixteen year old boy. Perhaps, I thought, if it were in first person I would have more sympathy for him. Then, in the last third of the book it became abundantly clearly why the third person narrative was so important and why we weren't directly inside Nick's head.
Not sure this one will have a permanent place on my bookshelf.
No comments:
Post a Comment