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aceinit's review against another edition
4.0
I want a entire novel based on the "twist" concerning the main character's life. I want an entire genre of novels based on it.
wealhtheow's review
4.0
A rational middle-aged Finnish woman thinks about her late son and his obsession with trains. This has a wonderfully unique character voice. Here's an example (the narrator's son was out all night, while the narrator sat up worrying after him):
"I wasn’t able to utter anything for a while, so as not to start crying or screaming uncontrollably; I wasn’t able to even move, because I felt a compelling desire to seize the child and thoroughly shake him for scaring me like that.
Finally I said surprisingly calmly: “I’ll make you a cup of cocoa. You’ll drink it without a murmur and then go back to sleep. The camera stays here. We won’t talk any more about this, but if you do something like this once more, I won’t even ask you anything, I’ll make a stew of you while you sleep and sell you to that drunkard Traphollow for mink food. And with the money I get I’ll bribe Mr. Starling to close his eyes about your disappearance. And if anybody asks about you, I won’t admit you ever existed. Do we understand each other?”
Rupert stared at the camera with nostrils wide open. He pointed at it and whispered: “But there’s evidence in there!”
“Do we understand each other?” I insisted. My voice could have peeled an apple.
He struggled long with himself before he gave up and nodded."
But also, the magic in here is exceedingly slippery in a way I really appreciate.
Finally I said surprisingly calmly: “I’ll make you a cup of cocoa. You’ll drink it without a murmur and then go back to sleep. The camera stays here. We won’t talk any more about this, but if you do something like this once more, I won’t even ask you anything, I’ll make a stew of you while you sleep and sell you to that drunkard Traphollow for mink food. And with the money I get I’ll bribe Mr. Starling to close his eyes about your disappearance. And if anybody asks about you, I won’t admit you ever existed. Do we understand each other?”
Rupert stared at the camera with nostrils wide open. He pointed at it and whispered: “But there’s evidence in there!”
“Do we understand each other?” I insisted. My voice could have peeled an apple.
He struggled long with himself before he gave up and nodded."
But also, the magic in here is exceedingly slippery in a way I really appreciate.
heniaakbar's review
4.0
It's one of those sci-fi things I don't understand but love unconditionally. Although the writing is a bit of a drag, I love the ending. It's amazing, pretty, I don't understand at all but I'm happy about it.
I think I just have the things with paths, or in this case, rails not taken, I guess.
I think I just have the things with paths, or in this case, rails not taken, I guess.
lnatal's review
3.0
You may read online Thor.com.
I don’t like to think about the past. But I cannot stop remembering my son.
Emma Nightingale prefers to remain grounded in reality as much as possible. Yet she’s willing to indulge her nine year-old son Rupert’s fascination with trains, as it brings him closer to his father, Gunnar, from whom she is separated. Once a month, Gunnar and Rupert venture out to follow the rails and watch the trains pass. Their trips have been pleasant, if uneventful, until one afternoon Rupert returns in tears. “The train tried to kill us,” he tells her.
Rupert’s terror strikes Emma as merely the product of an overactive imagination. After all, his fears could not be based in reality, could they?
I don’t like to think about the past. But I cannot stop remembering my son.
Emma Nightingale prefers to remain grounded in reality as much as possible. Yet she’s willing to indulge her nine year-old son Rupert’s fascination with trains, as it brings him closer to his father, Gunnar, from whom she is separated. Once a month, Gunnar and Rupert venture out to follow the rails and watch the trains pass. Their trips have been pleasant, if uneventful, until one afternoon Rupert returns in tears. “The train tried to kill us,” he tells her.
Rupert’s terror strikes Emma as merely the product of an overactive imagination. After all, his fears could not be based in reality, could they?
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