A semi-autobiographical novel about a childhood with no mother and a “crazy” father. (Autobiographically inspired novels about difficult childhoods seem to occupy about a quarter of the shelf space in Swedish bookshops nowadays – half is filled with detective stories and a quarter is left over for other odds and ends.)

Connie grows up with her aunt and uncle, who take care of her out of duty and with not much love. The rest of the people in her life are not much different. She finds them boring and intolerant, and no one understands her. She has trouble at school (difficulty sitting still and concentrating, and often she falls asleep) and only one friend.

All this bleak dullness around her makes it all the more understandable that she loves her father Ted – because he is fun. Ted enjoys defying all social conventions and expectations, telling tall stories and making mischief. He steals garden gnomes from his neighbour’s garden, takes Connie to a porn movie, and sneaks them into a circus tent by crawling under its edge. Connie looks up to him, and takes after him: she hides a forbidden hamster in her room, rides without a ticket on her weekend trips to her dad, and leaves turds in front of neighbours’ doors.

Connie spends every other weekend with her father. Or rather, she is supposed to, but sometimes her father forgets. The more you read, the more you realise that Ted confuses unconventionality with selfishness: what he likes to think of as his rebellion isn’t anything high-minded like an effort to change the world or to show people what is possible, but simple disregard for others’ lives. Connie herself sees this only after many years of disappointment.

The story initially seems fun, but is sad inside: the almost infinite love and loyalty of a child is ignored by her father, and no one else in her life cares much for her, either. She is seen as trouble, and perhaps pitied. Today (or perhaps even in the 1970s, if she had caring parents?) she would probably be diagnosed with some kind of letter combination and get help at school. Or maybe not. And even with that help she would still not fit in anywhere in a conservative small town.

As semi-autobiographies go, this one wasn’t too bad, but not too good either. Connie was well written, but Ted’s character doesn’t quite work. He’s described as a womanizer, always introducing Connie to new girlfriends, but he comes across as ridiculous rather than charismatic, and it’s hard to understand how he’d attract all those women. A greater weakness is the book’s repetitive nature. Not much changes or develops over time, and it all becomes an endless list of Ted’s escapades. No matter how wild they all are, it becomes boring after a while.

You can buy it on Bokus.

As the back cover says, “you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy called Bruno.” Bruno lives in Nazi Germany during the war. His family moves to a house in the country, due to his father’s job, next to an odd place with lots of people wearing striped pyjamas. Bruno is puzzled by the whole thing.

Thanks to his powerful father the family is sheltered from most of the troubles that come with the war, but even so Bruno is not a credible 9-year-old. A boy of that age could not possibly miss that there is a war going on around him, or not know who the Führer is, or not have heard of Jews. (Come on, the word Führer is a normal German word meaning leader – how could a German boy NOT understand the word?) He would have to be incredibly stupid, or to live with his eyes shut and his ears covered, singing “la la la I cannot hear you”. This makes it rather hard to get engaged in Bruno’s view of life.

There’s not much else in the book to be engaged in, either. Everything except Bruno’s thoughts are very sketchily described, including his relationship and conversations with the one friend he finds. Perhaps Boyne does this to keep the book simple enough for children, but the end result is patronising and superficial.

The book is marketed as a child’s view of the Holocaust, but I wouldn’t give it to a child to teach them about the Holocaust. Firstly the book is sufficiently coy and indirect about what is actually happening, that a child reading it wouldn’t learn much unless they already knew a lot – and if they knew it already, they wouldn’t get anything new from this one. And secondly Boyne takes great liberties with various facts in order to make his plot work, so the reader would get a seriously misleading and sentimentalised picture of what it was like.

Very disappointing.

Amazon UK, Amazon US.

“Caipirinha med Döden” / “Caipirinha with Death”.

Erica is a successful copywriter, in a happy relationship with her partner Tom. One night Tom tells her that he wants to take a break from their relationship. She goes home and tries to drown her despair in alcohol. Then someone knocks on her door. She opens and meets a man who says he’s Death. (He was supposed to visit the man upstairs, he says, but went to the wrong door.) Erica is by now so drunk that she isn’t even scared.

A few days later (after Erica finds out that the man upstairs has died from a cerebral hemorrhage) Death comes back to visit Erica. They talk. He turns out to be charming and funny, and not at all scary. He sleeps in her sofa, and makes her a luxurious breakfast the morning after. Soon he’s sort of moved in with her, cooks her gourmet dinners and even does the dishes. He asks Erica to accompany him to a few jobs, and after a while asks her to take care of some souls herself. Without thinking twice, Erica uses the opportunity to “solve some problems” among her acquaintances.

It’s weird combination of thriller and chick lit. Mostly chick lit, though: after all, the book is mostly about the love life of a hip young woman, plus some sprinklings of her work life, told in an irreverent tone and with lots light humour. I don’t know if it’s a chick lit thing or not, but I found Erica annoyingly stupid and really couldn’t sympathize with her when things started to go wrong for her.

I like reading about natural forces presented as people, because there are often interesting angles to those stories. Here this plot device isn’t used too well: Death gets to deliver too many philosophical lectures. And Erica herself gets involved in a project about genetic testing, so we get those debates as well. Because of the setting the discussion cannot be anything but superficial and banal. And when Death is joined by the Devil, and later it turns out that Jesus is still alive as well, it all becomes too much.

The story also spirals somewhat out of hand, but the final twist is a good one.

The book isn’t badly written, but it’s like all the other Swedish books I’ve read in the past 6 months: the language is that of a journalist. There are facts and descriptions, but there is no beauty in it. The author has no voice of her own. Disappointing, really.

Bokus. No Amazon links because the book hasn’t been translated into English.

The Lady and the Unicorn is a famous series of woven tapestries, created in the 15th century, when tapestries were all the rage among the rich and powerful.

Jean Le Viste, recently ennobled, wants to show to the nobility of France that he is as good as them, so he orders a set of tapestries for his house. He wants them to show the battle of Nancy, but his wife decides that something less violent would fit the dining room better. She wants an allegorical series instead, with unicorns.

The story is told from the points of view of half a dozen people who affect the making of the tapestries, consciously or not. There’s the artist who draws the design. There’s the family of Brussels weavers who make it. And then there’s the lady and the daughter of the Le Viste family, who inspire the artist as he draws the pictures.

Chevalier jumps between the viewpoints, as they all see the creation of thea tapestries from very different angles. The stories overlap and hook into each other – a rather obvious metaphor of weaving.

Nicolas, the artist, is the warp that keeps all the stories together. He’s a horny young man, chasing all the women he meets, seducing them with the myth of the unicorn and its potent horn. At the same time, his love for women and his ability to, nevertheless, see them as individuals is what makes the tapestry a masterpiece.

It’s a lightweight but enjoyable book, and my opinion of it keeps shifting depending on the mood I’m in.

One the one hand it’s very readable: the story flows smoothly with hardly any padding, and the characters really come to life. It’s also a very evocative book: it made me wish I could see the tapestries myself. As usual, Amazon reviewers complain about vulgarity and unlikeable characters, but I found both of these flaws to be limited. There’s plenty of vulgarity and imperfection in life, and as long as it’s interestingly presented, I don’t mind.

On the other hand there’s no denying that the book is superficial and the characters simplistic – Nicolas in particular feels very one-dimensional. A slight smell of cheap romance hovers over the book, with some rather unlikely events and far too modern thoughts in the head of, for example, a 14-year old girl raised in the sheltered confines of a Catholic, noble family.

A good and memorable read but not enough to make me go Wow.

Numerous reviewers had come away disappointed because they had previously read The Girl with the Pearl Earring by the same author. Since I found this one first, it sounds like I have something even better to look forward to.

Amazon UK, Amazon US.

This book got such positive reviews and so much publicity that I had to see for myself. Having read it, I have to say it was OK but not particularly impressive.

The book is written in first person, from the point of view of Amir, a young Afghan. Amir grows up in a prosperous family in 1970s Kabul, together with Hassan, the illiterate son of the family’s servant. Both boys are motherless, and they spend their entire childhood together. Hassan remains unshakeably loving and loyal, even though Amir sometimes cannot help treating him as an underling. Amir struggles to earn his father’s love and never quite succeeds. Then war forces them into exile in the US, where Amir’s father loses some of his power and influence, even though they both still remain close to the Afghan community. An old friend, now dying, asks Amir to return to Afghanistan, and various complications ensue.

The main weakness of this whole story is that it isn’t a cohesive story. It’s the union of three disparate parts: first the childhood memories, then the years in exile, and then the trip back. And there’s not enough glue to hold them together: they all have different tone, and the links between them are weak.

The first section of the book, the childhood in Afghanistan, was interesting and beautiful, even though some events were rather predictable. But when Amir moves to the US the story changes abruptly into something rather ordinary, with a love story, a death, some unexpected news etc. This part is far less interesting: events slow down, and Amir doesn’t have anything particularly interesting to say.

The third part, the return to Afghanistan, is different again. Now there are action scenes and danger. Finally, pointless complications are introduced at the very end, that would have made sense if this was an autobiography, but don’t work in a fictional context.

These three sections are sort of linked by some events and facts, but some of these links seem rather contrived, the way people in soap operas find out that their husband’s twin did not die in childhood after all but is now back with a vengeance, and so on. And just like soap operas, the book manages to combine improbability with predictability.

Some reviewers have wondered whether the book was written with Hollywood in mind. Others have questioned whether perhaps Hosseini tried writing just about his childhood, and was then told by a publisher that he needed a plot, that the book needed to make a “point”. Either of these would explain the odd mixture in this book.

The writing itself was average at best, with lots of clichés and the almost-obligatory sprinklings of farsi words in all dialogue.

It was interesting to read about pre-war Afghanistan, but I can’t say the book gave me any real insight into the culture or history of Afghanistan. Despite being set in Afghanistan, the book felt American. My guess is that the book will mainly appeal to readers who want “riveting dramas of betrayal and salvation”, with the exoticism of Afghanistan adding some extra spice. Mass-market entertainment.

Amazon US, Amazon UK.

In another world, some humans stand out from others – they all have some sort of deformity (which is why they’re called Tesques, short for Grotesques) as well as an extra opening in their body. A minority of them also have a healing ability, which allows them to draw out the sickness from a human body and turn it into a physical “concretion” which is expelled through that opening.

Unfortunately Tesques have no rights to speak of, and healers are treated as no more than valuable slaves. They have no say in how their gift is used, and most are drained in less than 10 years.

The book is the life story of one such healer called Payne. Unlike most healers, Payne doesn’t seem to be affected by the Drain, and he manages to complete more complex healings than most of them. He is young, overconfident, and tries to do the impossible: to heal the Drain of another healer. The healing goes wrong, leaving the other healer in a worse state than before. Nevertheless both survive, which is enough to make Payne into a bit of a legend.

He starts out an idealist, as most young people do, wanting to help humans, caring for them. But as he is excluded from their communities – even a church in which he invests a lot of his energy – his optimism wanes, his alienation grows and slowly turns into rebellion.

This was a strange book: distant and dreamy. Payne remains distant from both his world and from the reader. There is no real engagement, and hardly any emotions. The story is a seemingly random selection of episodes from Payne’s life, with no clear overall path. Neither the external events nor Payne’s personal development have any clear direction. At the end, rather unexpectedly, the story turns into myth. This doesn’t fit the preceding 95% of the book at all, but somehow it still works quite well. Perhaps it’s just because I like myths, powerful in their unreality.

But taken as a whole, the book was an interesting and satisfying reading experience. Well-written, and distinctive enough to be worth reading.

Here’s the review at SF Site that made me want to read this book. I agree with just about everything in that review except their opinion of the ending.

Amazon US, Amazon UK.

This is an efficient and matter-of-fact book. On the first page we find out that the world is about to end. In six days, in fact. This fact becomes common knowledge when it’s announced on the news.

What would you do if you heard this kind of thing on the news? Not as a rumour but as a certainty, with the scientists only disagreeing on whether we have 4 days left or 6. Nothing matters, because you have no future.

In the book, some people riot, some go off to spend their last week in the Bahamas. Some realise that they’ve wasted their lives, other continue quietly with theirs. Detective Inspector Watkins, the protagonist of the book, decides to spend the last 6 days solving a murder case that he is assigned to on the same day the news breaks. The rest of the story is a straightforward detective story, against a background of the world winding down.

The idea of end of the world is conveyed in such calm, matter-of-fact tone that it becomes serious rather than shocking. Very Englishly calm and understated. A slim little book but it really made an impression on me. So much of our lives hinges on there being a future, on survival – if not our own survival then at least that of our children, our friends, or at least of the human race. And even if the human race went extinct then we’d know that the trees and spiders and nettles around us would still be there. Even if we ourselves die, we leave some mark. But everything ending? What would that feel like?

It’s not just an idea book but also a well-written one. Tight prose, no unnecessary words (although not as terse as “The Road”), good flow and good dialogue.

For some reason the book hasn’t gotten much attention. Seems to be a small unknown publisher, maybe that’s the reason? I found a single review on Amazon (2 sentences!) and one on SF Site. In any case it deserves a wider readership.

Amazon UK, Amazon US

One day, the stars disappear. It turns out that a barrier has been set up between the Earth and the rest of the universe. Research later shows that the barrier is a time discontinuity: outside it, time passes millions of times faster. Satellites sent out through the barrier seem to return within seconds, yet have weeks’ worth of data with them. But somehow there are still 24-hour days with sunshine.

It doesn’t take people long to figure out that given the size of the time differential, the Sun will soon have changed so much that the Earth would be completely uninhabitable if the barrier disappeared. An entire generation of people grows up having never seen the stars, and knowing that they might well be the last generation ever. Some go on with their lives, but as time passes, more and more of them live out their desperation and hopelessness.

Three kids happen to be out stargazing when the barrier appears. The rest of the story revolves around the three of them as they grow up. One becomes a scientist, obsessed with understanding the Spin, as the barrier is called. Another gets sucked into the various apocalyptic sects that are born out of this event. The third one observes life from the outside, never quite getting involved himself.

The SF part of the book is impressively well thought-out: all the various implications and possible effects of a time barrier are explored, everything is consistent and makes sense. Even the final explanation (yes, there is one) actually makes sense. Lots of logical but innovative side ideas are presented almost off-hand. A lesser writer using one idea per book could have built his whole career on the ideas in this book.

At the same time this is not just an idea book (as SF books can sometimes be). The human angle is all there, too. The characters are well-rounded and believable, their relationships dynamic and interesting. Humankind’s feeling of being doomed and having no future is subtly all-pervasive.

And to top it all off, the story is well told. The pacing is good, the language is smooth, and the classical flashback structure is really skilfully used. I actually want to know how the characters can get from the flashback time to the present time, and the chapters taking place in present time gradually make more and more sense as the past catches up with the present.

The end result is an intelligent and enjoyable book. Really really good.

Amazon UK, Amazon US.

The book thief is Liesel, a young German girl who is sent to live with her foster parents during WW2. There are bombings and book burnings, a Jew hidden in a basement, and Jews in a concentration camp. There are also childhood games and stories and accordion music.

The story is narrated by Death. Death has a penchant for ominous flash-forwards, and for printing short fact-filled asides in bold type, and for comparing everything to colours.

As you can see, I found Death an annoying addition to the story (at least as a narrator – I admit that where he actively participated in the story, he was necessary for the story).

The rest of the story was interesting and moving, and often went off in an unexpected direction. There are believable characters, touching scenes, and lots of emotion. But I found the Death angle annoyingly contrived, and Zusak’s handling of the English language pretentious and clumsy.

A more detailed review that says what I would say if I had time.

Amazon UK, Amazon US

“The Dice Man” is the faux-autobiographic story of a psychiatrist who, bored with his ordinary routine life, decides one evening to let a die determine his next action. If the die shows a 6, he does one thing, otherwise something else.

He finds the experience exhilarating and liberating, and goes on to let the dice decide more and more of his life. At first the decisions are small, but later on he includes options such as leaving his family, killing someone, etc. As the psychiatrist he is, he also decides to spread this new idea as a therapeutic technique, as a way for everyone to learn that the self is malleable and not fixed, everyone can be anyone.

The premise is that we all have minority selves, impulses that push us in different directions, but we are taught and encouraged to extinguish and suppress most of them, to create a coherent self. This coherent self is only an illusion, and, what’s worse, an illusion that only causes struggle and boredom. Somehow Luke also links this to Zen ideas of letting go of the self.

The choices that Luke makes are driven by the dice, but they’re ultimately framed by the options he sets out before he throws the dice. And the options he comes up with tend to involve lots of sex and fair amounts of violence. Initially I got the impression that he was supposed to be your average self-absorbed sex-obsessed man, to show us how everyone has violence in them. But he seemed more like a psychopath, unaffected by the violent acts that the dice “tell” him to commit, feeling no empathy or remorse. While this leads to lots of explicit sex (which may get you ’cool points’ from the lads) it also leads to an aimless plot, and a rather simple, uncomplicated and thus uninteresting man.

And that’s my main gripe with the book. The basic idea is a great one, but the story that it develops into really doesn’t make much of it. The plot is weak and gradually unravels; the style becomes more and more uneven – which was probably an intentional choice, but that doesn’t make it any more successful. Basically the second half of the book didn’t add much, after I’d read the first half. And yet there are so many things one could do with this idea!

And yet there was something strangely compelling about this book. I cannot get this idea of randomness-directed decisions out of my mind. Even though I really didn’t think it was a good book, I’d recommend you to read it anyway.

Amazon US, Amazon UK.