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2.64 AVERAGE
2.64 AVERAGE
I received this book as an Early Reviewer's copy from Library Thing. I really enjoyed the book, kind of a very suspenseful look at how the Patriot Act and the NSA can go down a wrong path with nothing in their way as a check and balance. This book definitely kept me on the edge of my seat - I found the characters likeable, rooted for them, while being captivated by the suspense of the mystery. A great blending of character study, current events and suspense.
I received a copy from Library Thing in exchange for an honest review.
I rarely write reviews for books I do not finish, probably because I rarely leave books unfinished, but I just cannot get through this novel, which is disappointing to say the least.
I was highly intrigued by the description that was given for this book. I thought perhaps it was a psychological thriller and it was going to contain numerous fun twists and turns, leaving you guessing 'til the end. Neel Mukherjee promised it would, "... get under your skin, leave you jittery and unsettled, and have you looking over your shoulder." Yet, all you get is long-winded inner monologues, random thoughts that become seven page essays, run-on sentences, and zero plot. Unsettled? Yes, but only by how tedious it was. And I looked over my shoulder... for a better book to read.
This novel had a lot of potential, as there were a few times it finally delivered a bit of what it promised, but then the narrator would bore me again with his mundane stories. I made it halfway through, but I have reached my limit and must desist.
I rarely write reviews for books I do not finish, probably because I rarely leave books unfinished, but I just cannot get through this novel, which is disappointing to say the least.
I was highly intrigued by the description that was given for this book. I thought perhaps it was a psychological thriller and it was going to contain numerous fun twists and turns, leaving you guessing 'til the end. Neel Mukherjee promised it would, "... get under your skin, leave you jittery and unsettled, and have you looking over your shoulder." Yet, all you get is long-winded inner monologues, random thoughts that become seven page essays, run-on sentences, and zero plot. Unsettled? Yes, but only by how tedious it was. And I looked over my shoulder... for a better book to read.
This novel had a lot of potential, as there were a few times it finally delivered a bit of what it promised, but then the narrator would bore me again with his mundane stories. I made it halfway through, but I have reached my limit and must desist.
BORING. it took everything i had to finish this.
cool concept but holy moly i never want to read a book from the perspective of a whiny old man ever again
cool concept but holy moly i never want to read a book from the perspective of a whiny old man ever again
It took me 2 weeks and 40 naps to get through this one. I'm all for a slow build, but this was unfortunately a slow build to nothing.
Jeremy O’Keefe ist Geschichtsprofessor im College und kehrt, nachdem er ein Jahrzehnt in Oxford gelehrt hat, zurück in seine Heimat New York und versucht dort wieder Fuß zu fassen. Schon bevor er nach Oxford ging war er geschieden, hat allerdings eine sehr erfolgreiche Tochter, zu der er auch ein sehr gutes Verhältnis hat, trotzdem er ihre Jugend über nicht wirklich für sie da war, da er auf der anderen Seite des Atlantiks lebte. So richtig kommt Jeremy in New York allerdings nicht an, zu seinen alten Freunden hat er kaum noch Kontakt und es fällt ihm schwer, neue Bekanntschaften zu knüpfen. Nachdem er auf eine Verabredung wartete, bei der erst hinterher realisierte, dass er sie angeblich nur wenige Stunden zuvor abgesagt hat, beginnt Jeremy sein Gedächtnis zu hinterfragen. Dann erreichen ihn auch noch mysteriöse Pakete ohne Absender, in denen seitenweise Informationen über sämtliche seiner Online- und Telefonaktivitäten verzeichnet sind, die noch aus seiner Zeit in Oxford stammen. Spätestens jetzt wird im klar: Er wird beobachtet.
Immer wieder fragt Jeremy sich, warum er beobachtet wird und schlägt dabei auch immer wieder Brücken zu seiner Zeit in Oxford. Dadurch gibt es etliche gedankliche Zeitsprünge in die Vergangenheit, die mal mehr und mal weniger interessant sind und insgesamt viel zu ausschweifend und detailliert vom Protagonisten wiedergegeben und auseinandergepflückt werden. Generell werden viele Episoden aus Jeremys Leben nach meinem Geschmack viel zu ausführlich erzählt, zumal einige davon auch einfach nur unendlich langweilig und belanglos sind. Erst in der zweiten Hälfte des Buches wird es zumindest ein wenig spannender, was die Ausflüge in seine Oxford-Zeit angeht, aber auch hier wird einfach zu viel geschwafelt.
„Ich bin Niemand“ setzt sich mit vielen Themen auseinander, es geht nicht nur um die staatliche Beobachtung und Überwachung, der der Protagonist sich ausgesetzt sieht, sondern auch um Terrorismus, Karriere, Familie und in gewisser Weise auch Heimatlosigkeit, denn weder Oxford wird je zu Jeremys Zuhause, noch fühlt er sich wirklich heimisch und wohl, als er wieder in New York landet. Das Augenmerk des Romans liegt aber definitiv auf hochaktuellen Thematiken wie Datenschutz und staatlicher Observation, allerdings nähert sich der Roman diesen Themen in meinen Augen einfach zu eindimensional und langatmig – Jeremys Gedanken wiederholen sich ständig und er hat die längsten inneren Monologe, die man sich nur ausmalen kann. Nicht immer waren diese langweilig, aber dennoch vermochten es die wenigsten seiner Monologe, mich wirklich ans Buch und an die Geschichte zu fesseln – leider.
An jeder Stelle spürt man, wie sehr Jeremy mit dem, was ihm widerfährt, zu kämpfen hat, wie er es nicht versteht und trotzdem immerzu versucht, logische Schlüsse aus dem Ganzen zu ziehen. Trotzdem wir so viel an seinen Gedanken und Gefühlen teilhaben durften, blieb mir Jeremy sehr fern. Er hatte nichts wirklich falsches getan, aber ich konnte dennoch keinerlei Mitgefühl für ihn entwickeln und er war mir auch nicht sympathisch, wobei ich nicht wirklich sagen kann, woran genau das lag. Vielleicht war es der akademische und teilweise fast schon emotionslose Tonfall, in dem er sein Leben schilderte, vielleicht war mir aber auch seine Persönlichkeit generell zu farblos.
„Ich bin Niemand“ setzt sich mit einem hochinteressanten Thema auseinander, wird diesem aber in seiner Umsetzung keinesfalls gerecht. Das Buch bietet nur gelegentlich so etwas wie einen Spannungsbogen und verrennt sich in zu ausgeschmückten und langatmigen Erzählungen über Belanglosigkeiten. Sprachlich hat dieses Buch zwar eine Menge zu bieten, die Handlung entfaltet sich aber kaum und bietet keine überraschenden Höhepunkte oder Wendungen. Ich hatte mir definitiv mehr erhofft. 3/5
Immer wieder fragt Jeremy sich, warum er beobachtet wird und schlägt dabei auch immer wieder Brücken zu seiner Zeit in Oxford. Dadurch gibt es etliche gedankliche Zeitsprünge in die Vergangenheit, die mal mehr und mal weniger interessant sind und insgesamt viel zu ausschweifend und detailliert vom Protagonisten wiedergegeben und auseinandergepflückt werden. Generell werden viele Episoden aus Jeremys Leben nach meinem Geschmack viel zu ausführlich erzählt, zumal einige davon auch einfach nur unendlich langweilig und belanglos sind. Erst in der zweiten Hälfte des Buches wird es zumindest ein wenig spannender, was die Ausflüge in seine Oxford-Zeit angeht, aber auch hier wird einfach zu viel geschwafelt.
„Ich bin Niemand“ setzt sich mit vielen Themen auseinander, es geht nicht nur um die staatliche Beobachtung und Überwachung, der der Protagonist sich ausgesetzt sieht, sondern auch um Terrorismus, Karriere, Familie und in gewisser Weise auch Heimatlosigkeit, denn weder Oxford wird je zu Jeremys Zuhause, noch fühlt er sich wirklich heimisch und wohl, als er wieder in New York landet. Das Augenmerk des Romans liegt aber definitiv auf hochaktuellen Thematiken wie Datenschutz und staatlicher Observation, allerdings nähert sich der Roman diesen Themen in meinen Augen einfach zu eindimensional und langatmig – Jeremys Gedanken wiederholen sich ständig und er hat die längsten inneren Monologe, die man sich nur ausmalen kann. Nicht immer waren diese langweilig, aber dennoch vermochten es die wenigsten seiner Monologe, mich wirklich ans Buch und an die Geschichte zu fesseln – leider.
An jeder Stelle spürt man, wie sehr Jeremy mit dem, was ihm widerfährt, zu kämpfen hat, wie er es nicht versteht und trotzdem immerzu versucht, logische Schlüsse aus dem Ganzen zu ziehen. Trotzdem wir so viel an seinen Gedanken und Gefühlen teilhaben durften, blieb mir Jeremy sehr fern. Er hatte nichts wirklich falsches getan, aber ich konnte dennoch keinerlei Mitgefühl für ihn entwickeln und er war mir auch nicht sympathisch, wobei ich nicht wirklich sagen kann, woran genau das lag. Vielleicht war es der akademische und teilweise fast schon emotionslose Tonfall, in dem er sein Leben schilderte, vielleicht war mir aber auch seine Persönlichkeit generell zu farblos.
„Ich bin Niemand“ setzt sich mit einem hochinteressanten Thema auseinander, wird diesem aber in seiner Umsetzung keinesfalls gerecht. Das Buch bietet nur gelegentlich so etwas wie einen Spannungsbogen und verrennt sich in zu ausgeschmückten und langatmigen Erzählungen über Belanglosigkeiten. Sprachlich hat dieses Buch zwar eine Menge zu bieten, die Handlung entfaltet sich aber kaum und bietet keine überraschenden Höhepunkte oder Wendungen. Ich hatte mir definitiv mehr erhofft. 3/5
I read the first half of the book and then skimmed the ending. The premise was great, but just not a writing style I enjoy.
Meh. Just meh. I read all the way through for it to end like THAT‰Ы_
If I could give I AM NO ONE more stars, I would. A marvel of a literary thriller about our modern surveillance era.
I do not use the word 'literary' lightly. If one is expecting car chases and rock-'em-sock'-'em action, one will be highly disappointed. No, this is a psychological book full of quiet terrors, surrounded by incidents so mundane that the average person can't help but identify. This is of course the point. Your life? Mine? Opened up and spread across the cold metal dissection table? What would one find, if one looked closely enough? In this world of six-degrees-of-separation, who can say they have not met someone at a party, sat next to someone on a bus, bought cheese from someone, had their hair styled by someone, even perhaps been friendly to, even perhaps loved, a person with whom the shadowy offices of global surveillance would take exception. A file would be started. I shouldn't be at all surprised if there's one on me.
Consider the irony if one had dedicated one's life to the research of East Germany's Stasi as has Jeremy, our narrator. It's that sort of a puzzle-book.
The narrator's first person voice is perfect (I'm quite baffled by reviews here that say otherwise) -- in part because it has exactly the right tone for an academic who's spent a long time in Britain, but also because Jeremy is someone a tad bland, and deeply flawed. He's prone to long moments of introspection, passages I adored for their thoughtfulness and Jamesian interiority. It's a risky choice in a world where readers are accustomed to narrators more prone to action, and written with a high 'likability factor' in order to please their publishing house's sales team. I applaud Flanery for making it.
There is a great review in the Guardian of this book, which in part reads: "One of the pleasures of reading Flanery is the tussle between ways of understanding the shapes of stories and language. He mixes, to quote an interview he gave, “expressionism, symbolism, surrealism” into what he calls “critical realism” – he writes realist novels which show their awareness that realism is a self-conscious form like others. Reviewers have described his novels as thrillers, which is never quite right – but there are parts of the story that stand out as thrilling, next to other parts that are meditative, and others that are psychologically baffling. Readers are constantly seeking to work out what sort of writing they are reading. For instance, many of the chapters end with the kind of statement – 'As you will see, I had things to find out … ' – that suggests the construction of a thriller and doesn’t quite fit with what has gone on before."
Approach this book not as a thriller, although as the Guardian says, there are certainly thrilling moments, but as a compelling psychological exploration of privacy and what the imposed lack of it, might mean to a life. Any life. Even yours.
I received this book from Blogging for Books in return for an honest review.
I do not use the word 'literary' lightly. If one is expecting car chases and rock-'em-sock'-'em action, one will be highly disappointed. No, this is a psychological book full of quiet terrors, surrounded by incidents so mundane that the average person can't help but identify. This is of course the point. Your life? Mine? Opened up and spread across the cold metal dissection table? What would one find, if one looked closely enough? In this world of six-degrees-of-separation, who can say they have not met someone at a party, sat next to someone on a bus, bought cheese from someone, had their hair styled by someone, even perhaps been friendly to, even perhaps loved, a person with whom the shadowy offices of global surveillance would take exception. A file would be started. I shouldn't be at all surprised if there's one on me.
Consider the irony if one had dedicated one's life to the research of East Germany's Stasi as has Jeremy, our narrator. It's that sort of a puzzle-book.
The narrator's first person voice is perfect (I'm quite baffled by reviews here that say otherwise) -- in part because it has exactly the right tone for an academic who's spent a long time in Britain, but also because Jeremy is someone a tad bland, and deeply flawed. He's prone to long moments of introspection, passages I adored for their thoughtfulness and Jamesian interiority. It's a risky choice in a world where readers are accustomed to narrators more prone to action, and written with a high 'likability factor' in order to please their publishing house's sales team. I applaud Flanery for making it.
There is a great review in the Guardian of this book, which in part reads: "One of the pleasures of reading Flanery is the tussle between ways of understanding the shapes of stories and language. He mixes, to quote an interview he gave, “expressionism, symbolism, surrealism” into what he calls “critical realism” – he writes realist novels which show their awareness that realism is a self-conscious form like others. Reviewers have described his novels as thrillers, which is never quite right – but there are parts of the story that stand out as thrilling, next to other parts that are meditative, and others that are psychologically baffling. Readers are constantly seeking to work out what sort of writing they are reading. For instance, many of the chapters end with the kind of statement – 'As you will see, I had things to find out … ' – that suggests the construction of a thriller and doesn’t quite fit with what has gone on before."
Approach this book not as a thriller, although as the Guardian says, there are certainly thrilling moments, but as a compelling psychological exploration of privacy and what the imposed lack of it, might mean to a life. Any life. Even yours.
I received this book from Blogging for Books in return for an honest review.
Jeremy is a professor at NYU and recently back from about a decade at Oxford. The strange events start small, a missed appointment with a student that his email says he rescheduled, but he doesn't remember sending or receiving any email. Then he keeps running into the same guy over and over... Is he going crazy, or is someone watching him?
Little by little, we learn Jeremy's back story and that he truly isn't anyone special, despite indications that perhaps someone is taking a special interest in him. The premise and plot are interesting, but they get really bogged down in too many words and in what feels like fear-mongering. There's too little action. I wanted to like this more than I did.
Little by little, we learn Jeremy's back story and that he truly isn't anyone special, despite indications that perhaps someone is taking a special interest in him. The premise and plot are interesting, but they get really bogged down in too many words and in what feels like fear-mongering. There's too little action. I wanted to like this more than I did.
I read this for mystery book club at my library and we all hated it. This is book is so poorly written that I'm amazed it got published. There is a sentence on page 61 or 62 that was 128 words long. I have absolutely no idea how that got passed an editor, if it was even edited.
-Spoilers-
The worst part for me though was how the narrator kept telling us that he was paranoid when he clearly wasn't. The narrator suspects a man of stalking him. Not much later after he come to that conclusion his stalker shows up inexplicably at his house. Instead of freaking out about it the narrator goes with the stalker to a secondary location and then allows himself to be cornered in a dark basement.
On top of that 90% of everything we're told about the narrator's time at oxford is pointless. It doesn't add anything to the story and instead just makes him look like a jackass. Also, half of the people in my book group thought it was annoying every time the narrator complained about how old and feeble he was. These women are much older than the narrator and do so much more with their time than he does that they found him extremely aggravating.
Honestly, if I could give this book negative stars, I would.
-Spoilers-
The worst part for me though was how the narrator kept telling us that he was paranoid when he clearly wasn't. The narrator suspects a man of stalking him. Not much later after he come to that conclusion his stalker shows up inexplicably at his house. Instead of freaking out about it the narrator goes with the stalker to a secondary location and then allows himself to be cornered in a dark basement.
On top of that 90% of everything we're told about the narrator's time at oxford is pointless. It doesn't add anything to the story and instead just makes him look like a jackass. Also, half of the people in my book group thought it was annoying every time the narrator complained about how old and feeble he was. These women are much older than the narrator and do so much more with their time than he does that they found him extremely aggravating.
Honestly, if I could give this book negative stars, I would.