Monthly Archives: October 2008

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Neverwhere

AuthorNeil Gaiman

Paperback
Pages: 400 pages
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Release Date: January 25, 2005
ISBN-10: 0060557818
ISBN-13: 978-0060557812


There are a few authors that I save for special occasions. Travelling is one of those special occasions and Neil Gaiman is one of those authors. So when it came time to pack my bags and choose the novels that were coming with me Neverwhere was a no-brainer. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I loved American Gods and figured something in the same vein set in Europe could only be a good thing. What I got wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it was a bloody fun romp, nonetheless.

Neverwhere is more Stardust (Gaiman’s whimsical take on the classic Faerie Tale) than American Gods (Gaiman’s dark, menacing take on America, Media and Gods), which, in the end, I think was a good thing for the novel. Neverwhere starts off quick, and never looks back – leading the reader through a version of the London Underground that constantly keeps the reader on their toes with imagination. Half the fun with the novel comes from that anticipation about what Gaiman will throw at Richard Mayhew (and, by extension, the read) next. Wonderful visuals delight and the characters met along the way are just as charming and magical as the fantasy world.
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The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

The Shadow of the Wind

AuthorCarlos Ruiz Zafon

Paperback
Pages: 487 pages
Publisher: Penguin
Release Date: January 25, 2005
ISBN-10: 0143034901

Years ago, when I last travelled through Europe, standing in the middle of a bustling bookstore in a Cologne train station, I held a copy of Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind in my hands. I contemplated it, having heard the first rumblings of the novel and its quality. I ended up putting it back on the shelf, not purchasing it. Ever since that day, I regretted not reading it on that trip, and so when it came time to hit the train stations of Europe, I made sure to bring a copy with me.

This time, as my train trundled its slow way through the quaint, rolling hills of northern Slovakia, I was gazing out the window, The Shadow of the Wind resting on the seat beside me.

“Ahh, I’ve read that one,” says the young man across from me, broken English tumbling its way inelegantly through his thick accent. “Museum of Forgotten Books, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, encouraged by his enthusiasm.

“It’s good. A good book,” he said.

The young fellow on the train may have had the name of the fabled Cemetery of Forgotten Books wrong (though it could have been lost in the Slovakian translation), but he certainly got one thing right – The Shadow of the Wind is a good book. A very good book.
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