Wulf C. Krueger

A Feel-Good Road Trip Built on Unbelievable Shortcuts

“The Car Share” by Zoe Brisby tells a rather simple story: Alex, a young man in his mid-twenties, is depressed and heartbroken by a rejection that didn’t even happen, offers a car-share ride to Brussels. Maxine (“Max”), a ninety-year-old woman from a retirement home who believes she has Alzheimer’s, joins him to undergo euthanasia while she still has capacity whereas Alex is trying to escape his emotional pain. Their journey is full of adventures and turns into a transformative friendship.

Unfortunately, that promise is very sloppily executed: The “life-changing” trip consists of just two days. A recovery from diagnosed moderate depression in a mere two days is both belittling the illness and intrinsically questionable within the novel.

Max, on the other hand, was married to a psychologist, is very scientifically minded, but fails to actually get a diagnosis instead of relying on her own non-existent medical expertise. To make her decision to get euthanised depend on that, and to make her switch from seriously and decisively wanting to die to embrace a full, new life in the course of two days is hardly believable. It also completely misjudges Belgium’s law about assisted dying: Although a non-resident, non-citizen is not automatically barred by Belgian law, the notion that someone could simply make an appointment and have euthanasia carried out there and then is very unlikely, because the process requires repeated, well-considered requests, written documentation, independent medical consultations, and, in non-terminal situations, at least a one-month waiting period, typically alongside extensive evaluation.

During their trip to Brussels, press and police quickly but inexplicably jump to the conclusion that Alex abducted Max. This, and other small adventures, lead to many attempts at creating both humorous and life-affirming situations. Sadly, the humour falls very flat and the author conveys, almost forcefully yet shallowly, simple ideas that would have deserved a much more thorough and careful depiction.

»“Strictly speaking, a fear of flying isn’t a flaw. It’s very common.” “Are you afraid of planes, too?” Alex asked hopefully. “Goodness no, I’m not a chicken!”«

Worst of all, though, the story is completely unoriginal: In 2013, “The Universe Versus Alex Woods” by Gavin Extence was published. In it, yet another Alex, a young man with neurological issues (which also lead to mental health ones), becomes friends with elderly Mr Peterson, a reclusive Vietnam veteran and cannabis user, through their shared love of Kurt Vonnegut and philosophical conversation.

Central plotlines include Alex grappling with mortality, his relationships, his mental/neurological health, and a trip to a Swiss clinic because of Mr Peterson’s terminal diagnosis. Sounds familiar?

To me, it certainly did. Whereas “Alex Woods” sensitively and sensibly deals with its subjects and topics, giving them time to naturally grow while applying dry humour, philosophical musings, and quirkiness alongside serious issues, “Car Share” treats sadness with warmth and comedy, eccentric characters, and (very) light escapades.

“Car Share” is mostly comedic, whereas “Alex Woods” shines with humour and humanity. Thus, “Alex Woods” is a five-star read, versus a generous two stars for this one.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Strong start, shaky middle, and an ending that can’t make it whole

It started out so well: Effie is a policewoman. Having been born and raised in New Zealand (NZ) for her first 15 years, she’s now in her thirties, living in Scotland. Suddenly, back in NZ, a girl appears from out of the bushland. She looks just like Effie at that age. Of course, Effie feels she must go back and investigate.

This is basically what the first third of the novel focuses on. It’s interesting and gripping; Effie “feels” like a self-reliant, competent woman. The descriptions of NZ’s bushland were brilliant and the writing was perfectly fitting. The pacing was good and the story full of promise.

The second third deals with Effie’s investigation and discoveries in NZ, and that’s how the cookie crumbled for me: Effie, who did well in Scotland and whose instincts and experience from her earlier life in NZ came back to her, this Effie suddenly starts to look like a naive damsel in distress. Her childhood sweetheart, now himself a local policeman, whom Effie immediately falls for again after 17 years of absence and he falls for her, too, has to rescue her time and time again. The pacing starts to become rather uneven here - there’s one particularly long slog that should have been much shorter.

The final third introduces a third timeline following the two already established timelines (young Effie in NZ, today’s Effie in Scotland/NZ). It details a view of a closely related story which, to me, didn’t actually add much to the by now somewhat convoluted story. The endling, unfortunately, didn’t really help redeem this novel.

It’s really a shame; this novel held so much promise. Ultimately, though, it’s bogged down by clichéd devices (e.g., the motherly matron saving our heroine, the manly local hero, and similar tropes), uneven pacing, hard-to-believe plot elements, and other small flaws. For me, it fell far short of what it could have been.

Three stars out of five.

The murder of a family of local old-money, seemingly perpetrated by the criminal equivalents of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, leads to a commune of aging hippies, high-profile international drug smuggling, police corruption, murder-by-cop, and loads of other crimes against readership by the highly incompetent author, "Caro Ramsay" (in quotation marks because nobody would publish anything like this under their real name, I hope!).

The large cast is ridiculously clichéd from their "crooked" toes, "endless" legs, flat stomachs, big breasts, large blue eyes, and, of course, blonde hair. "Adorable" animals, the same plot device used three times inside a single chapter - unless you're either a completionist fool like myself, or had a recent lobotomy, stay away.

I keep reading about publishers rejecting authors. If only they had rejected this one.

One star out of five.

"For Reasons Unknown" and absolutely unknowable, this collection of words but mostly without proper punctuation, was actually published.

Another family murdered in their locked house, another "damaged", "dark", DCI called Matilda Darke (can you hear me cry?) who tragically lost her husband to cancer, mostly sees through to the bottom of bottles, not cases, is being brought back to investigate a cold case.

»She popped two Venlafaxine from the blister pack, washed them down with the wine, and left the house, taking the newspaper with her.«

(Note the admirable use of commas! The author doesn't ususally grace his wooden sentences with them. Here's proof: »‘No you don’t do you?’«)

As with the latest lot of novels I've been reading, this one just plain sucks: Shallow characters, unbelievable villains, cops who act to the best of their minimal abilities, a completely unhinged antagonist - this one has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It does feature lots of melodramatic bollocks...

»The rage and tension building up inside her was agony.«

(Having recently finished this, I do sympathise with the general sentiment, though.)

Also, "your" and "you're" is hard for such gifted authors as this one...

»‘Yesterday, a body was found in the city centre, on Holly Lane. I went to the scene and you’re Acting DCI Hales was there.'«

"Michael Wood", once more I hope this person has no children to embarass or was at least smart enough to choose a pen name, also suffers from (and makes us suffer for) his distinct incompentence in the use of idioms:

»for argument’s say, let’s say it was your fault.«

For <beep>'s sake! I should be paid for reading such drivel!

Go forth and read any old directory because it surely is better written, edited, and more interesting than this turd of a novel.

0.25 stars out of five because it's composed of words and has a (story-unrelated) cover.

The new year starts as the last one ended: With me choosing daft books to read. At least this one was relatively short. DI Hillary Greene lost her husband due to circumstances I forgot about roughly 15 seconds after they were presented. Said husband was also a cop and as corrupt as they come. Sadly, Faith Martin, obviously struggling to come up with a good plot, decent characters, writing in general, and failing at all of that went to having him, a city cop, deal with exotic animals (I think, don't hold me to that; it could have been anything similarly ridiculous for his position).

Every character is clichéd, little of the story is believable, and the few original ideas don’t come to fruition because the author simply can’t deliver.

One star ouf of five.

P.S.(A.): Because I just noticed it: "Faith Martin" is just the fourth pen name for Jacquie Walton (a much more fitting surname) because she probably "burned" the first three in publishing circles. Just so you know whom to avoid. (There really should be a public "literay offender register"! ;) )

I'm always on the lookout for interesting (crime/mystery) series'. Especially with interesting female protagonists. And this one?

Female lead? Check. Interesting? Not so much. Our heroine whose name I've long forgotten suffers from trauma, finds a body (and then some more on the next day because the cops didn't search the house properly...), joins the murder investigation team on the first day of her job as a police constable and, of course, solves the case almost single-handedly.

Her superior officer, another oh-woe-is-me character, who is generally perceived as an arsehole, falls for the poor, traumatised, fragile, and homebody'ish dear, and she, of course, for him. Also, of course, they don't even talk about it but prefer swooning for each other.

Oh, yes, and their case? The plot is so thin, Phifer's imagination so limited, one would assume any random screenwriter had written this as an episode for some weird romance/mystery crossover for some TV show nobody knows (or, realistically, wants to know).

Instead of reading this, walk into the library of your choice, randomly grab a book and your chances of reading something more decent than this one are around 80%.

Two stars ouf of five.

"Never Sleigh Never"

As if that didn't give it away... This novel was pretty much horrible from start to finish. I should dnf more liberally.

I'm not yet back in "proper review mode" but I'd like to point you to my friend BJ's review with which I mostly agree.

"Mostly", because to me, this novel was slighly tiring to read - the plethora of issues Ellie, the primary protagonist, faces felt, at times, overwhelming (on the other hand, nothing felt outlandish). All I wanted was a cute, queer Christmas romance - but I kept returning to this novel much more quickly than to any other novel I've recently read.

This book, like Ellie and Jack, spoke to me, touched me emotionally, and created an unexpected sense of connection that I could not resist.

Also, parts of the writing felt as unintentionally messy as the story intentionally is. For that (and the utterly daft title) I have to substract one star.

Basically, a soap opera, a lot of stuff about a leaky roof, "reformed" "cute" aristocrats, Ardery has a cameo, oh, and, yes, there's a murder on the side lines.

The Lynley series itself is "A Slowly Dying Cause" - and rightly so.

A hiker disappears. People search. That's the story. Watching colour dry on my wall is more interesting.

An unlikely encounter, a roadtrip, a growing friendship, amusing to hilarious characters - a worthy instalment in this series.

A video game disguised as a novel. An ugly cocktail of misogyny, racism, and every phobia in the book. And lots and lots of violence porn. That so many people like this, speaks volumes...

O tempora, o mores!

A few years ago, I came across a TV show simply called “Bosch” that quickly became one of my favourites. At some point, I realised there were Bosch novels - and I was done for.

Michael Connelly had created a detective and an entire “Bosch Universe” that I came to love. Of course, I dived straight into anything in that universe and, by now, have read everything set in that universe - including the exploits of Mickey Haller, the “Lincoln Lawyer”.

So, when a new instalment was published, I rushed in excitedly - and found a shallow, bland, uninspired novel, trying hard to cash in on current worries about AI (artificial intelligence).

Don’t get me wrong: there is certainly reason to be at least concerned about AI because right now, the pace at which AI is being developed by far outpaces the ethical concerns around it. The scenario of “The Proving Ground” could, to some extent, play out today.

Unfortunately, said scenario - an unhinged teenager murders his ex-girlfriend - is something we’ve seen long before the AI hype. AI doesn’t really play any decisive role here, and the one bold and (relatively) original idea Connelly has remains unused.

Jack McEvoy, himself a protagonist in the Bosch Universe, makes an appearance, but is barely used and even when he’s around, his contributions are hardly meaningful. Sadly, the same applies to pretty much every other one of Mickey’s friends as well.

Worst of all, though, it all dies with a whimper. There would have been countless interesting, exciting, or even novel ways to end this rather short novel (it’s 20% shorter than the average of all other novels in the series), but Connelly goes for the easiest and most boring one.

Even the writing is not up to the author’s usual standards: stylistically, “Proving Ground” could itself have been written by an AI.

Compared to earlier novels in the “Lincoln Lawyer” series, this one lacks all the grit, the suspense, the courtroom drama, the subtlety of Mickey’s performances, and it’s even very repetitive at several points.

If you are a completionist like myself, go ahead, read it - you will be disappointed, but that’s not the point, eh?

If you are new to the series, just choose an earlier one and pretend this one doesn’t exist. A sentence from chapter 49 reflects my feelings perfectly:

»And yet there was something underwhelming about it.«

Generous three stars out of five.

Oh, wow, this one was a very serious let-down: At break-neck speed, we're (oftentimes literally) rushing through Prague with no time to reflect. There's no place for reason, intelligent behaviour, believable developments, or anything that would give the reader time to actually think about this uninspired mess.

Worst of all: Langdon teams up with a person who calls herself a "noetic scientist". "Noetic science" is a term you'll find nowhere near any reputable scientific institute, serious researchers, or anything else you might consider even ever-so-slightly scientific. You won't find it on Wikipedia either.

It's basically a "faith-based science", or, in plain words, complete utter bullshit (just like this novel). Brown has his heroine even tell us explicitly that her "science" should be exempted from any kind of burden of proof because that’s simply too high a bar... An "experiment" that succeeded once, the results of which have not been reproduced in decades, should be taken at face value instead. That's Trump, MAGA, and Kennedy "science".

Yes, the novel is suspenseful - if you disengage your brain and just follow our pair of professors-cum-action heroes and the mysterious and murderous "Golem" along on their unlikely and unbelievable ride. It's so outlandish a story that Brown obviously felt the need to tell us in a foreword that all locations actually exist. We might not believe anything he writes otherwise.

Oh, and the title? That stroke of genius is explained tediously in the end as well. Even now, my brain hurts when I think of this novel.

One generous star out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

A thrilling yet tangled chase through secrets, ethics, and emotional turmoil.

This instalment in the Cormoran Strike & Robin series delivers suspense, complexity, and compelling character dynamics, yet is weighed down by convoluted plotting and missed opportunities for clearer development.

This eighth instalment of the Cormoran Strike & Robin series doesn’t quite reach the brilliance of its predecessors. The primary case Strike & Robin are investigating is very convoluted and complicated. At some points I actually had to search for and go back to earlier parts to remember the connections.

As such, this novel was somewhat more challenging to read. It was nevertheless worth it: It was suspenseful, interesting, and - despite the complexity - believable and very, very engaging.

Much room is given to the relationship between Robin and Strike, and countless were the times when I wanted to grab one of them and shake them and shout at them to finally talk to each other. (I confess to loudly yelling at my Kobo to that effect.)

Coming from the previous novel’s ending, I had hoped for, but did not expect, big developments - which may or may not have occurred in this novel…

If you’re a fan of this series, get it from a library to try and make sure the author doesn’t get a dime from you. Do not start the series with this book, though. It’s probably good enough for a stand-alone read, but you’ll definitely be confused by many of the references to earlier books.

»We are all of us, though not all equally, mistaken. - Albert Pike The Liturgy of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry«

Please take note: Rowling is still very much openly transphobic and, thus, I encourage you not to buy her books, but rather get them in a library so that at the very least she won’t profit any more than she already has.

If you’re one of those people who don’t believe who and what she is, here’s an excellent article (permanently updated) that collects Rowling’s disgusting statements and actions:

www.glamour.com/story/a-complete-breakdown-of-the-jk-rowling-transgender-comments-controversy

Roman Polanski, Woody Allen, Bill Cosby, Joanne K. Rowling - they are different kinds of monsters and yet monsters they all are. I recoil whenever I’m confronted with their depravity. And yet, I cannot break from their art. I can keep calling them out, though.

Four stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

What 107 Days Promised, and What 285 Days Betrayed

When I was a young man, I saw the United States of America as a source of good in the world. I dreamt of migrating there and becoming a hot-shot IT guy in Silicon Valley.

My belief was further fuelled by people like Noam Chomsky, Barack and Michelle Obama, Paul Auster and Siri Hustvedt, Robert Langer, and, last but not least, Kamala Harris.

I feverishly followed those 107 days of Harris’ campaign and loved how she presented her vision for the USA, the world, and herself. Her authentic passion and the joy she exuded gave me hope.

Then the USA elected, for the second time, the racist felon whose Republican administration is now responsible for the death of millions of people around the globe. The current US administration is dismantling everything good about the USA and leaving it as many from my generation have always seen the USA: an imperialist nation that forces other countries into compliance.

Now, my only hope is that the sheer incompetence of said administration will be their downfall: an intellectually challenged president, an oafish backwater turd as VP, a “war” secretary running the Pentagon like a frat house on steroids - a drunken, misogynistic circus where the bar tab is as scandalous as the supposedly secure documents, a self-styled medical maverick who treats science like folklore, spreading conspiracy memes, apologising by text, and claiming no memory of infamy, a blonde right-wing barbie spinning inflated stats, and picking civil rights when they’re convenient - just ignoring the rest of the US Constitution, and a mercurial voice claiming civil liberties, parroting disinformation, shifting ideologies, and cherry-picking minority rights when it fits her brand.

All the more so since Kamala Harris had wonderful ideas and plans. Had she even been able to implement a fragment of what she describes in “107 Days”, ironically, it would have actually made the US great again.

Harris writes engagingly in short- to medium-length chapters about every step along the way. We don’t learn anything really new, but it’s still highly interesting to get to know Harris’ personal points of view and how she actually felt. More often than not, I was in tears when comparing her ideals, her plans, and what she did with what is happening right now.

I agree with almost everything she writes but one major point she’s trying to make: Harris writes that two thirds of the US population did not vote for Trump. She’s being honest in stating that one third simply stayed home instead of voting. This is not a valid excuse, though: the US citizens knew what was at stake - namely their democracy - and they still didn’t vote.

This is why Harris is wrong: You The People are responsible for Trump. You The People are complicit in what your administration is committing. You The People do not rise against the current administration in defence of your democracy.

Instead, you let your modern Gestapo, ICE, randomly arrest people who are not white enough or speak with an accent. Your corrupted Supreme Court is the new Volksgerichtshof the majority of judges of which give all of this their blessings.

What we see in the news daily, this is who you are now, and I promise you: We, The World, may eventually forgive but we will never forget.

Five stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Complicated, convoluted, small-town vibes to the point of weirdness (to put it mildly). This would also explain the distinct lack of intelligence displayed... Another one which was suspenseful but very much forgettable. Tinned ravioli are tastier, more palatable and more interesting.

I won't continue this series or read anything else by Dugoni.

Banal, completely forgotten not even two months later. Not recommended.

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

This was a huge let-down for me. The author barges on with the conspiracy theory bullshit he started serving somewhat earlier. He goes to such lengths, though, that the entire novel loses any kind of credibility.

I feel like I have to read this stuff; don't be me, you don't have to!

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Puh... Leider sehr dürftig. Von Schirach erzählt lakonisch bis zur Belanglosigkeit einerseits oder zu Selbstverständlichkeit andererseits.

Weitgehend schlicht langweilig. Über Recht, Kaffee und Zigaretten konnte er wunderbar schreiben. Seitdem geht ihm die literarische Luft aus.

Trotzdem: Ferdinand von Schirach ist und bleibt eine großartige Person.

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Ja, das war genau das Richtige für einen ausklingenden Sommer. Dupin in Höchstform, unter Druck, im Stress und dann sind auch noch seine Schwiegereltern bei ihm zuhause!

Ein spannender Fall, ein großartiges Ensemble, bei dem alle an Konturen gewinnen, viel Spaß mit Kaffee und Schokolade - wunderbar.

(Still compulsively reading. Who am I to disrupt my flow by writing detailed reviews? ;-) )

Finally, a complete winner!

This is Josie Quinn no. 23; if you know her, read it. You won't be disappointed, I promise! No Mettner whining, no dead granny trauma, just a cold case coming up from the bottom of a river, a patchwork family, and its secrets.

If you're new to Josie Quinn, feel free to jump right in. Yes, you're missing a lot of background but it doesn't matter all that much. The case is still riveting and interesting.

Thrilling, suspenseful, intelligent, and warm-hearted in some aspects (Wren!) as well. Really good one!

Read due to a New York Times book review. Once I saw the cover, I should have known better...

Every chapter introduces a new issue which is promptly resolved in the next. The entire story felt like I had read it before (I hadn't!) because there's not a single original thought in this entire novel. Each and every character, from the saintly ex-con, the alholic(s), the small-town heroine and her estranged mother. There's also the reborn christian grandma (no worse human beings than those!) with her "tough love", the reformed music agent, and many more who feel like you've read about them a million times, or seen their story in some TV trash.

None of them were likeable in any kind either. Another complete waste of reading time.

Bog-standard feel-good stuff featuring clicheed, over-the-top characters, a rather boring story, conflicts that are resolved by "a good, strong talking-to" by one senior or another.

Readable but not worth my reading time.

Not so hot anymore but I'm too tired to write proper reviews right now.

While not quite as good as some of the earlier instalments, "Little Children" is most certainly a good read. Kim and her team are called out to help another team in Blackpool - while at the same time checking on said team.

The team dynamics are a bit different due to the different location and the strained collaboration with the Blackpool team but it's still an easily recognisable and devourable Kim Stone.

A good read, indeed, but I'm certainly looking forward to seeing Kim and her team in her usually haunts next time!