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3.73 AVERAGE
3.73 AVERAGE
DNF. Boring characters, atmosphere, and mystery. There are so many other things I would like to read.
I feel like there could have been a good book in here somewhere because there were parts that I was actually intrigued by. However, this book is a drag. It took me so long to read because the characters were flat, so many parts were unnecessary, the writing could be infuriating because many of the things that happened were illogical, she constantly and pointlessly used italics (seriously with the italics), metaphors, similes, etc. I skimmed so much of it and had to force myself to keep reading. Because there were some parts of this book that did entertain me I might have given this book a 2 but I can’t get past how problematic it is. The book is often racist, sexist, transphobic, and homophobic which, sadly, seems to be largely overlooked. The reason I kept reading was because I hoped that it would get better or at least have a satisfying ending.
(The next part is spoilery so don't read it if you haven't read the book yet and want to.)
Needless to say, I was very disappointed by the fact that basically nothing was resolved. I get that it is supposed to be like one of Cordova’s films but it was done pretty poorly.
(The next part is spoilery so don't read it if you haven't read the book yet and want to.)
Needless to say, I was very disappointed by the fact that basically nothing was resolved. I get that it is supposed to be like one of Cordova’s films but it was done pretty poorly.
ahhhhhhhh! blew through it in a day, neglecting many responsibilities. Super captivating and engrossing, also super creepy and disturbing. Nice integration of documents like news articles and websites. recommended.
Ειλικρινά, αυτό το βιβλίο ξεκινάει με τις καλύτερες προοπτικές αλλά θέλει πολλή υπομονή για να το τελειώσεις. Το άφησα κανα δυο φορές γιατί με κούρασε ΠΑΡΑ ΠΟΛΥ, παρόλο που μέχρι τη μέση θα του έβαζα 4 αστέρια. Θεωρώ το τέλος απαράδεκτο και το προτείνω μόνο σε όσους έχουν γερά νεύρα.
Gosh, did I LOVE this book. I honestly couldn't put it down for the week it took me to read it (and almost missed my stop on the subway both ways on my one commuting day in to the office). I couldn't remember where I found this title, and I picked it at random off of my Kindle library to read after finishing the last book I was reading, and I was overjoyed to find that I was completely invested in this read.
It starts off as what you might think is a typical detective story, but it quickly becomes something more: a quirky trio working together to solve a mystery, an experience of reading real documents in a file, a question of fiction vs. reality, an examination of what we want to communicate through art, and so much more. It had a gothic vibe to it, a horror vibe, and a supernatural vibe. Every time I felt like I knew where Pessl was going with the story, she took me right to that conclusion and then tipped the story sideways, so I couldn't get a handle on it, and I LOVED it. She led me right to the place I thought I'd so smartly figured out, only to acknowledge that I'd put the pieces of the puzzle together to find that the completed puzzle didn't remotely match the picture on the box.
I'm going to be thinking about this one for a long time (and regretting that it's over, as I always do with a great read), but I'll be moving on to more of Pessl's work in the near future.
It starts off as what you might think is a typical detective story, but it quickly becomes something more: a quirky trio working together to solve a mystery, an experience of reading real documents in a file, a question of fiction vs. reality, an examination of what we want to communicate through art, and so much more. It had a gothic vibe to it, a horror vibe, and a supernatural vibe. Every time I felt like I knew where Pessl was going with the story, she took me right to that conclusion and then tipped the story sideways, so I couldn't get a handle on it, and I LOVED it. She led me right to the place I thought I'd so smartly figured out, only to acknowledge that I'd put the pieces of the puzzle together to find that the completed puzzle didn't remotely match the picture on the box.
I'm going to be thinking about this one for a long time (and regretting that it's over, as I always do with a great read), but I'll be moving on to more of Pessl's work in the near future.
An abbreviated version of this review is now published in the UVU Review newspaper.
7.5/10
When I first heard that Marisha Pessl’s new book’s plot was the mystery surrounding the untimely, early death of the piano-prodigy possibly-Girl-Interrupted-ish intensely magnetic & smart daughter of a Pynchonianly-reclusive cult-followed Lynch/Kubrick/Polanski-type film director, I was both excited and worried.
Part of the worry is of course the possibility of the Let Down. It is hard consuming an artistic endeavor on stable terms when you've invested so much into it before you can get your hands on it. This can be a thematic anticipation, such as mine with Pessl’s novel, or the Why Are You Taking So Long To Finish This anticipation which William [Gaddis/Gass] fans are familiar with and -- to a much lesser degree -- Jonathan Franzen fans. It happens all the time in the music industry: I am sure the handful of Guns & Roses fans felt this when Chinese Democracy was finally released. Dr. Dre’s fans have been waiting over a decade for Detox, which will surely disappoint proportionally to the length of pent-up [im]patience he has inflicted. Sure, take your time, wait for the muse, etc. But perhaps 2Pac was right in his assessment when he worked with Dre: Pac was so prolific in the studio that he grew sick of waiting around for Dre to deliver beats to him that he found other ways around it, which led to a falling out right before he died.
I digress.
Although at a surface level Night Film might seem to trot out the “Female Relative of a Male Professional” trope that an astonishing amount of novels deploy, the frictions of that dichotomy are what sustain the story.
While Night Film is ostensibly about those Special Topics that intrigued me, Pessl did a wonderful job weaving each element into the story rather than just forming a bricolage of interesting ideas. For instance: I tried to approach with caution since I am a fan of classical music and David Lynch and Thomas Pynchon. I was worried that there’d be too much replication that those In The Know would see past and disregard. But with Lynch -- even though there is a picture of Cordova from behind in a Rolling Stone article, which looks precisely like Lynch from that angle, including his slight waved disheveled hairdo -- she doesn’t just mime his work or life. You can tell Pessl is a Lynch fan, and she has admitted as much in interviews. But rather than mimicking his work in her writing -- which would come off scraggly and insincere at best -- she writes in a way that is clearly informed rather than simply formed by his art.
Filmmaker Stanislas Cordova is portrayed in a nearly Lacanian father way, the not-there aspect applying to various parts in his life, whether in his work, social, or familial duties. He is a cult artist, and as their fans are wont, legions of adulation-riddled fanatics dissect every frame in his films and brim up a passion that overflows in secret online destinations and college classrooms.
There is a shroud of darkness sprinkled throughout the novel, but I actually expected much more of it. You do get a feel of Cordova’s films, especially later on in the novel, when things turn ominous as the real and imagined worlds collide and weave together. The major players pushing the plot forward include a dedicated and disenfranchised journalist, Scott McGrath, and two young ragamuffins connected partially to the crime scene. Cordova was the reason McGrath was disenfranchised, so when Cordova’s daughter dies, McGrath wants to get to the bottom of it. He wants the truth, which isn’t always clear to see or accept when jealousy and the desire for revenge have the possibility to cloud judgment. He tries to piece together the mystery while his own life is falling out of control.
Despite some expected cringe from heavily-marketed books(publishers always know what readers want, eh?), the story was fun to follow, and the 624 pages flowed much quicker than expected. It was slightly experimental, but that’s only in relation to the novel as a form. Post-postmodern gimmickry isn’t all that experimental in these hyperlinked days, so the websites, magazine articles, polaroids, notes and errata sprinkled throughout the text aren’t as foreign a concept as, say, readers of Barth’s “Giles Goat-Boy” may have felt in 1966. Nonetheless, the hijinks were kept at bay for the most part, and it was a straightforward story with many twists and speculations that readers of all kinds can get into. Fans of straight genre thriller or mystery books would enjoy Pessl’s “Night Film,” as well as those of us puffed in pretension with literary fiction’s finely-tuned prose, because this novel falls somewhere in the gray area between, which usually means both sides will either embrace or deny it with strong opinions.
7.5/10
When I first heard that Marisha Pessl’s new book’s plot was the mystery surrounding the untimely, early death of the piano-prodigy possibly-Girl-Interrupted-ish intensely magnetic & smart daughter of a Pynchonianly-reclusive cult-followed Lynch/Kubrick/Polanski-type film director, I was both excited and worried.
Part of the worry is of course the possibility of the Let Down. It is hard consuming an artistic endeavor on stable terms when you've invested so much into it before you can get your hands on it. This can be a thematic anticipation, such as mine with Pessl’s novel, or the Why Are You Taking So Long To Finish This anticipation which William [Gaddis/Gass] fans are familiar with and -- to a much lesser degree -- Jonathan Franzen fans. It happens all the time in the music industry: I am sure the handful of Guns & Roses fans felt this when Chinese Democracy was finally released. Dr. Dre’s fans have been waiting over a decade for Detox, which will surely disappoint proportionally to the length of pent-up [im]patience he has inflicted. Sure, take your time, wait for the muse, etc. But perhaps 2Pac was right in his assessment when he worked with Dre: Pac was so prolific in the studio that he grew sick of waiting around for Dre to deliver beats to him that he found other ways around it, which led to a falling out right before he died.
I digress.
Although at a surface level Night Film might seem to trot out the “Female Relative of a Male Professional” trope that an astonishing amount of novels deploy, the frictions of that dichotomy are what sustain the story.
While Night Film is ostensibly about those Special Topics that intrigued me, Pessl did a wonderful job weaving each element into the story rather than just forming a bricolage of interesting ideas. For instance: I tried to approach with caution since I am a fan of classical music and David Lynch and Thomas Pynchon. I was worried that there’d be too much replication that those In The Know would see past and disregard. But with Lynch -- even though there is a picture of Cordova from behind in a Rolling Stone article, which looks precisely like Lynch from that angle, including his slight waved disheveled hairdo -- she doesn’t just mime his work or life. You can tell Pessl is a Lynch fan, and she has admitted as much in interviews. But rather than mimicking his work in her writing -- which would come off scraggly and insincere at best -- she writes in a way that is clearly informed rather than simply formed by his art.
Filmmaker Stanislas Cordova is portrayed in a nearly Lacanian father way, the not-there aspect applying to various parts in his life, whether in his work, social, or familial duties. He is a cult artist, and as their fans are wont, legions of adulation-riddled fanatics dissect every frame in his films and brim up a passion that overflows in secret online destinations and college classrooms.
There is a shroud of darkness sprinkled throughout the novel, but I actually expected much more of it. You do get a feel of Cordova’s films, especially later on in the novel, when things turn ominous as the real and imagined worlds collide and weave together. The major players pushing the plot forward include a dedicated and disenfranchised journalist, Scott McGrath, and two young ragamuffins connected partially to the crime scene. Cordova was the reason McGrath was disenfranchised, so when Cordova’s daughter dies, McGrath wants to get to the bottom of it. He wants the truth, which isn’t always clear to see or accept when jealousy and the desire for revenge have the possibility to cloud judgment. He tries to piece together the mystery while his own life is falling out of control.
Despite some expected cringe from heavily-marketed books(publishers always know what readers want, eh?), the story was fun to follow, and the 624 pages flowed much quicker than expected. It was slightly experimental, but that’s only in relation to the novel as a form. Post-postmodern gimmickry isn’t all that experimental in these hyperlinked days, so the websites, magazine articles, polaroids, notes and errata sprinkled throughout the text aren’t as foreign a concept as, say, readers of Barth’s “Giles Goat-Boy” may have felt in 1966. Nonetheless, the hijinks were kept at bay for the most part, and it was a straightforward story with many twists and speculations that readers of all kinds can get into. Fans of straight genre thriller or mystery books would enjoy Pessl’s “Night Film,” as well as those of us puffed in pretension with literary fiction’s finely-tuned prose, because this novel falls somewhere in the gray area between, which usually means both sides will either embrace or deny it with strong opinions.
Marisha Pessl's sophomore novel, Night Film, is a hot ticket; my $1.50 in library fines was more than worth the book's wild ride. At first, I feared that the tale might be too creepy; horror is not my genre, but I can enjoy a mystery. Night Film proved to be a psychological thriller, and I read it in big gulps, sailing through a dozen tiny chapters at a sitting. (There are more than a hundred chapters in its 624 pages.) Its innovation is the use of reproduced (fictional, but with permissions) web pages, magazine clippings, and records, which I found effective in pulling me in and giving a feel of primary-source material. Apparently, there is also a digital component, but I decided not to go down that rabbit hole in the wake of my recent iOS7 update. One may be able to access the "real" Cordovite Blackboards, but I don't want to. While I recall really enjoying Pessl's first book, Special Topics in Calamity Physics (2006), I don't remember it all that well. My sense is that book was more "literary" in both style and content; I wasn't dazzled by the writing in Night Film, nor was I put off by it in any way - except for the excessive and random italicizations of words and phrases. Mostly the story compelled me forward, maybe because I'm a film fan, or because I love New York, or because Scott's dogged pursuit of the truth captured me. Pessl has crafted another amazingly inventive tale.
Superlatives: Character I'd most like to hang with: Nora. Character I'd most like to hear more from: Inez Gallo. Most honest character: Nora. Most caricatured character: Marlowe Hughes. Most throwaway character: none.
Superlatives: Character I'd most like to hang with: Nora. Character I'd most like to hear more from: Inez Gallo. Most honest character: Nora. Most caricatured character: Marlowe Hughes. Most throwaway character: none.
I'm not sure why this is being compared to Gillian Flynn. This was pretty shallow by comparison. It has an interesting premise, but the characters are paper thin. It is one of those books that I didn't care if one of the major characters lived or died.
3.5 stars. I was so invested but that ending was utter doodoo.