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olivia_reads_'s review against another edition
2.0
A weird book. No real climax. Fairly the same temperament throughout the entire book. Interesting book but not insanely interesting to read if that makes sense. Didn’t love main characters somewhat misogynistic tone with Rema. Unsatisfying ending completely, very disappointed in ending. Only kept reading because I wanted to know the crazy twist end I was expecting but the story just didn’t end. It was kind of pathetic actually.
tvil's review against another edition
4.0
I think it quite likely that this book was inspired by The Crying of Lot 49. The premise and plot bear some similarities, and I assume the nefarious and nebulous "49 Quantum Fathers" are a reference. Instead of a covert postal service, it's a covert academy of meteorology that the protagonist grapples with at the edges of his/her sanity.
The story reads very similarly, but not the prose; it's less fever dreamy than Pynchon and more an analytical and self-reflective treatise on going mad and seeing your reality unravel. Analytical because the protagonist is a psychiatrist (psycho-analyst?) who himself seems to go insane, with a cool and professional detachment.
The narrative is also meta-fictional in an interesting way: The author's real-life deceased father, the meteorologist Tzvi Gal-Chen, or at least a version of him (a "Quantum Father"?) plays a prominent part in the plot.
I was also reminded slightly of Solaris; the doppelganger Rema in this book is portrayed similarly to Lem's simulacrum Rheya (although her name was Hari in the original Polish), and there's a similar focus on clothes and their missing buttons/zippers, but I might be reading too much into things.
Anyway, I really liked this book. It was brooding, not sprawling, which was both a strength and a slight weakness. At times there was little moving the plot forward, but it felt focused.
I actually think I originally bought this book because I liked the ballpoint pen cover designed by Billie Jean.
The story reads very similarly, but not the prose; it's less fever dreamy than Pynchon and more an analytical and self-reflective treatise on going mad and seeing your reality unravel. Analytical because the protagonist is a psychiatrist (psycho-analyst?) who himself seems to go insane, with a cool and professional detachment.
The narrative is also meta-fictional in an interesting way: The author's real-life deceased father, the meteorologist Tzvi Gal-Chen, or at least a version of him (a "Quantum Father"?) plays a prominent part in the plot.
I was also reminded slightly of Solaris; the doppelganger Rema in this book is portrayed similarly to Lem's simulacrum Rheya (although her name was Hari in the original Polish), and there's a similar focus on clothes and their missing buttons/zippers, but I might be reading too much into things.
Anyway, I really liked this book. It was brooding, not sprawling, which was both a strength and a slight weakness. At times there was little moving the plot forward, but it felt focused.
I actually think I originally bought this book because I liked the ballpoint pen cover designed by Billie Jean.
settingshadow's review against another edition
3.0
Well that was quite odd. The basic premise of the book was well-done: a psychiatrist's descent into psychosis. Here Dr. Galchen's medical background really shines from the accuracy with which she portrays her protagonist's failed reality checking and lack of insight, to the subtle historic clues that suggest a schizophreniform personality (excessive paranoia, overvalued ideas), Galchen parades nearly every possible positive psychotic symptom. Leo experiences thought insertion, overvalued ideas, pressure speech with train of thought patterns, hallucinosis, and delusions of every flavor. It's all done organically, realistically and from a first person perspective. While unique and originally fun as a concept, once Leo finishes his descent into psychosis, the plot doesn't really go anywhere, and I found the last 25% or so of the book dragged.
What really struck me though, almost immediately, was the inclusion of Tzvi Gal-Chen as a character. "How odd, Gal-Chen, that sounds familiar," I thought, then remembered that the book was by Rivka Galchen. I then checked the acknowledgements, yup, she includes Tzvi in there. A quick google search revealed that Tzvi Gal-Chen is Rivka's (deceased) father (But no information about the surname spelling discrepancy). The pictures of him in the book, citations of his research and figures from his papers are all real, as is the description of him and his computer programmer wife living in Oklahoma with their two kids (Google has no opinion as to whether Rivka and her brother were indeed spoiled, bad at soccer, and good at math). In an interview, Rivka mentioned that readers rarely notice but for her the inclusion of her father is the largest part of the book. Well, I noticed and for me, it loomed large, as you can tell by the amount of googling it provoked. It's just such a strange decision: why include one's dead father in an otherwise non-autobiographical novel, as the hallucination of the psychotic protagonist? To make the reader feel like they're going crazy and overvaluing ideas? To invoke a Freudian feel wherein the reader sits around asking "but what does she mean by her dead father?" It's so very weird and it completely broke my ability to otherwise concentrate on the novel at all.
What I did appreciate even more knowing that Rivka grew up with a meteorologist for a father was her obvious love of language. It was clear that she had been rolling around words and turns of phrase in her head for a long time, taking them in and out of context, so when she got the chance to explore every possible meaning of every phrase, she really made the technical language sing.
What really struck me though, almost immediately, was the inclusion of Tzvi Gal-Chen as a character. "How odd, Gal-Chen, that sounds familiar," I thought, then remembered that the book was by Rivka Galchen. I then checked the acknowledgements, yup, she includes Tzvi in there. A quick google search revealed that Tzvi Gal-Chen is Rivka's (deceased) father (But no information about the surname spelling discrepancy). The pictures of him in the book, citations of his research and figures from his papers are all real, as is the description of him and his computer programmer wife living in Oklahoma with their two kids (Google has no opinion as to whether Rivka and her brother were indeed spoiled, bad at soccer, and good at math). In an interview, Rivka mentioned that readers rarely notice but for her the inclusion of her father is the largest part of the book. Well, I noticed and for me, it loomed large, as you can tell by the amount of googling it provoked. It's just such a strange decision: why include one's dead father in an otherwise non-autobiographical novel, as the hallucination of the psychotic protagonist? To make the reader feel like they're going crazy and overvaluing ideas? To invoke a Freudian feel wherein the reader sits around asking "but what does she mean by her dead father?" It's so very weird and it completely broke my ability to otherwise concentrate on the novel at all.
What I did appreciate even more knowing that Rivka grew up with a meteorologist for a father was her obvious love of language. It was clear that she had been rolling around words and turns of phrase in her head for a long time, taking them in and out of context, so when she got the chance to explore every possible meaning of every phrase, she really made the technical language sing.
beccagomezfarrell's review against another edition
3.0
I was very intrigued at first but my interest started to wane further in to this story of a man who becomes convinced that his wife is being impersonated by a doppelganger. Oh, and there's lots of meteorology, too. It's a thinker's book and I enjoyed the pondering but wish the story would have offered some more concrete conclusions.
tearaven's review against another edition
3.0
This was such an odd book that it made it interesting. I would imagine this is probably as close as you can get to being inside the mind of someone who's going mad without going mad yourself. Moments are very touching between the main character and his 'simulacrum' wife. Her use of describing the sense of touchso often is also of note.
jessmanners's review against another edition
3.0
I don't know! There were moments, especially at the beginning, when I was really charmed by how quirky and bizarre this is, but for the most part, I vacillated between feeling too stupid and too impatient. I think I wanted this to be a story of a person who seemed crazy but ultimately wasn't, but..unless my problem is that I'm too stupid for this book, which is entirely possible (or that it doesn't lend itself well to being heard rather than read--another definite possibility), it just turned out that the person who seemed obviously crazy was obviously crazy, and was forcing everyone else to navigate the world around him and his delusions, which I guess is interesting on some level, but wasn't enough to sustain me for an entire novel.
I think I would have loved this book if I had read it 10 or 15 years ago, but...
I think I would have loved this book if I had read it 10 or 15 years ago, but...
jessrock's review against another edition
3.0
Hello, my old friend the unreliable narrator. When used well, you are sublime (see: [b:Pale Fire|7805|Pale Fire (Penguin Modern Classics)|Vladimir Nabokov|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1165644180s/7805.jpg|1222661]); when not, you are irritating in the extreme.
Fortunately, Rivka Galchen does a wonderful job of using her unreliable narrator to tell a most unusual tale. Psychiatrist Dr. Leo Liebenstein introduces his tale by explaining that one day, inexplicably, his wife was replaced with another woman who was like his Rema in nearly every way, but who was not his Rema. Furthermore, Rema has disappeared, and Leo can't figure out where she's gone or who would be behind this unthinkable substitution. He goes off on a quest to find her, joining forces along the way with his former psychiatric patient Harvey (almost certainly a nod to the film of the same name) who is under the impression that he is a secret agent for the Royal Academy of Meteorology, is able to control the weather, and is using his ability to play a part in a cosmic battle between the Academy and the destructive group of weather subversives known as the 49 Quantum Fathers.
The book does a very good job of walking the line between letting us in Leo's head and giving us the distance to see that Leo's view of reality is not a true one. The only point where I felt the scales tipped a little too far in the "distance" direction was when Galchen indulged herself in the oversmart joke of having Leo use the word "perseveration" over and over again in the space of a few paragraphs - the effect is grating, though the word's meaning - after I looked it up! - was clearly intended to underline Leo's tenuous grasp on reality (from dictionary.com: "perseveration: the pathological, persistent repetition of a word, gesture, or act, often associated with brain damage or schizophrenia").
I really enjoyed reading this book, though the ending felt unsatisfactory, like Galchen wasn't sure what to do with her protagonist after dragging him out to the end of his sanity.
And one unanswered question: Why has Galchen given her mysterious, unseen "godlike" figure Tzvi Gal-Chen her own last name? Is she really inserting herself into the story and suggesting that she IS Tzvi Gal-Chen (since the mystery of who Gal-Chen really is is never satisfactorily resolved)? Is this some joke I'm just not getting?
Fortunately, Rivka Galchen does a wonderful job of using her unreliable narrator to tell a most unusual tale. Psychiatrist Dr. Leo Liebenstein introduces his tale by explaining that one day, inexplicably, his wife was replaced with another woman who was like his Rema in nearly every way, but who was not his Rema. Furthermore, Rema has disappeared, and Leo can't figure out where she's gone or who would be behind this unthinkable substitution. He goes off on a quest to find her, joining forces along the way with his former psychiatric patient Harvey (almost certainly a nod to the film of the same name) who is under the impression that he is a secret agent for the Royal Academy of Meteorology, is able to control the weather, and is using his ability to play a part in a cosmic battle between the Academy and the destructive group of weather subversives known as the 49 Quantum Fathers.
The book does a very good job of walking the line between letting us in Leo's head and giving us the distance to see that Leo's view of reality is not a true one. The only point where I felt the scales tipped a little too far in the "distance" direction was when Galchen indulged herself in the oversmart joke of having Leo use the word "perseveration" over and over again in the space of a few paragraphs - the effect is grating, though the word's meaning - after I looked it up! - was clearly intended to underline Leo's tenuous grasp on reality (from dictionary.com: "perseveration: the pathological, persistent repetition of a word, gesture, or act, often associated with brain damage or schizophrenia").
I really enjoyed reading this book, though the ending felt unsatisfactory, like Galchen wasn't sure what to do with her protagonist after dragging him out to the end of his sanity.
And one unanswered question: Why has Galchen given her mysterious, unseen "godlike" figure Tzvi Gal-Chen her own last name? Is she really inserting herself into the story and suggesting that she IS Tzvi Gal-Chen (since the mystery of who Gal-Chen really is is never satisfactorily resolved)? Is this some joke I'm just not getting?
grayxen's review
mysterious
tense
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
shelfimprovement's review against another edition
2.0
I really want to like this book, as I had read some really spectacular reviews. It started out really strong, but it quickly became rather pointless.