Title: The lost angel
Author: Javier Sierra
Editorial: Metro
Year: 2011
Pages: 527
ISBN: 9788408099956
As you know, The lost angel, the latest novel by Javier Sierra, I got my hands on the book presentation held in Madrid on January 27, eight days before that she would adopt on sale Feb. 4. I left the presentation with a great desire to start reading through all the passion and enthusiasm that we had conveyed its author.
But despite the high expectations I had put into this work, I have to confess that I liked. At no time has come to get hooked, I was seduced and trapped me. I have not sent anything. Has left me indifferent and, at least for me, that's the worst that can happen to me a book.
I can not deny that the argument promised, a lot. The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Mount Ararat in Turkey, London, the U.S. president, police investigations, helicopters, nuclear submarines, the Ark of Noah, John Dee, angels, stones with supernatural powers and, above all, imagination, imagination.
Because even during the presentation Javier Sierra kindly explained in great detail how he had documented in writing this novel, traveling not only Galicia, but even climbing Mount Ararat, where supposedly there is the Ark of Noah, gave me the feeling that this novel is a story written by someone with boundless imagination.
overflowing As I just proved to me the plot. At no time did I have to get along with none of the characters. Julia Alvarez, a restorer who works at the Portico de la Gloria, her husband Martin, an American climatologist with a hidden past, many secrets and a very peculiar family, the agents of the U.S. president, the president, the English police that take care research, friends and relatives of Martin, members of the mysterious Eastern cult ...
characters are many, but none has appeared credible, approachable, human. In short, I have found it impossible to feel identified with any of them, much less come to understand their motivations, their behavior, their desires, their fears and their dreams.
gave me the feeling that at no time has deepened or the plot or the characters, who all passed over without stopping at nothing and that all that was done along the story was run, run and run. Really, at times the reading instead of enjoying myself, to help me unwind, to relax and be comfortable, which is what I expect from a book, all I got was overwhelmed without airing anything.
Another thing I liked is the continuing jumps, I mean. Although I think having short chapters help to read with rhythm, to engage the reader, and I think this is something positive, I no longer seemed so positive are those jumps between different scenes, characters and narrators. At the end I did not know if it was in Santiago de Compostela, in Turkey in London, U.S. or where.
And speaking of places. Another issue that has continually helped me out of the story are minor typos I found. Not many, but I recognize that I am very picky and cranky with these things, not stand and it gives me a lot of anger him in a book. For example, at one point speaks of the East of the Iberian Peninsula for a few lines down, on the same page, put there Galicia as far as I know, Galicia is in the West.
I've also found several expressions I have been very strange, I've been squeaking a lot. Can anyone explain to me how a rock collapses, how can you rub the meniscus instead of the knees continuously or why, on many pages, there are expressions like "the wind, cold, air, etc. snuffed? Would not it be easier to use the verb espabilar? Because, according to the dictionary of the RAE, the meanings of snuff are dispatched quickly, or end quickly, steal away secretly, and sever, remove one thing something that hinders or is it a flaw.
I'm not saying that this novel can not seduce, love or even excite me a lot of readers but of course he has not succeeded. It was probably my fault, do not say no. Had overly high expectations and the disappointment is even greater. To this we must add that this is the first novel I read by Javier Sierra. Until I met him in the presentation to me was a completely unknown author.
I know that in many cases, especially with his previous novel, The Secret Supper , has been compared to Dan Brown. And although this was the first book I read by this author, certainly to me if I was powerfully reminded to The Da Vinci Code, Angels and Demons or Eagle, books that I devoured a few years ago and that time I was excited.
However, I think it is the fault of the novel and not even the author, but my fault. Reading The lost angel I've noticed that in these years, my literary tastes have changed a lot. I do not like this type of novel, now on the books looking for different things, not saying they are no worse or better but certainly, if different. Seeking stories and profound characters, which I will find next, real, human, that make me feel, laugh, mourn, move something inside me that not only moves me and take me running from side to side without transmitting any more. However angel is, this book, of course, I have not exactly taken to heaven.
0 comments:
Post a Comment