Take a photo of a barcode or cover
A review by zefrog
The Snow Garden by Christopher Rice, James Daniels
3.0
There is little doubt that Christopher Rice has a vivid imagination and a knack for telling a gripping story. He is unfortunately not a very good writer.
The first forty pages or so of The Snow Garden are particularly clunky. Rice, perhaps too preoccupied with creating a sense of suspense, is more cryptic than anything in those pages. After that he somehow manages to relax into his story and things improve a lot, although we are still regularly confronted with shockingly clumsy turns of phrase thoughout the book.
It's all a little far-fetched: the characters we are presented with all seem unbelievably damaged (only the secondary characters appear to be reasonably "normal") and some of the plot twists are fairly predictable. But on the whole, if the reader is ready to suspend their disbelief and their more pedantic instincts, this a fairly good yarn which will keep you entertained for a few hours on snowy days.
As a side note, this edition of the book is not of good quality. There are many typos and some words are even swapped around ("be could" instead of "could be"). Page 315 is even blank. It should read:
him. Tim looked up from the beer he held in his lap, hope and fear meeting on his face.
He had told Eric he was perfectly aware of the damage he was capable of doing, and the rage of that proclamation had flooded him with adrenaline. But when the words had left his mouth, he had believed that the damage he could inflict could bring about some truth amid the tangle of lies that had brought him to Altherton University. Now, all he was capable of doing was casting renewed suspicion on Lisa’s death in hope that someone more powerful than he would follow the trail to 231 Slope Street.
“Are you doing to record this?” he asked.
Home at last at 231 Slope Street, Eric was about to hang up his coat when he head Pamela’s laughter. It went through his nerves like a raw, electric wire. Down the front hallway, the kitchen spilled light across the hardwood floor he and Michael had so lovingly refinished that summer. He went to the kitchen doorway. When she saw him, Pamela, her face already glowing with whatever was in the glass she was drinking from, lit up with pleasant surprise. Across from her, Michael smiled, his expression a bitter parody of Pamela’s. His robe was sliding off his back, his hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes did no possess the same alcoholic sheen as Pamela’s.
“He lives!” Michael announced.
“Play with us!” Pamela urged; she had gotten his arm and was pulling him down into a chair.
“What… are you playing?” he managed.
“She’s lovely,” Michael said under his breath, too low for Pamela to catch.
“You’re not allowed to make fun of me!” Pamela said, he back to them as she uncapped the bottle of Tanqueray on the counter.
Beneath her playfulness, a spark of fear electrified her every motion. What had Michael done to unnerve her?
He turned to Michael. “When did she…”
“An hour ago.” Michael’s eyes were on Pamela. “Did you two have a date tonight?” he asked her.
The first forty pages or so of The Snow Garden are particularly clunky. Rice, perhaps too preoccupied with creating a sense of suspense, is more cryptic than anything in those pages. After that he somehow manages to relax into his story and things improve a lot, although we are still regularly confronted with shockingly clumsy turns of phrase thoughout the book.
It's all a little far-fetched: the characters we are presented with all seem unbelievably damaged (only the secondary characters appear to be reasonably "normal") and some of the plot twists are fairly predictable. But on the whole, if the reader is ready to suspend their disbelief and their more pedantic instincts, this a fairly good yarn which will keep you entertained for a few hours on snowy days.
As a side note, this edition of the book is not of good quality. There are many typos and some words are even swapped around ("be could" instead of "could be"). Page 315 is even blank. It should read:
him. Tim looked up from the beer he held in his lap, hope and fear meeting on his face.
He had told Eric he was perfectly aware of the damage he was capable of doing, and the rage of that proclamation had flooded him with adrenaline. But when the words had left his mouth, he had believed that the damage he could inflict could bring about some truth amid the tangle of lies that had brought him to Altherton University. Now, all he was capable of doing was casting renewed suspicion on Lisa’s death in hope that someone more powerful than he would follow the trail to 231 Slope Street.
“Are you doing to record this?” he asked.
Home at last at 231 Slope Street, Eric was about to hang up his coat when he head Pamela’s laughter. It went through his nerves like a raw, electric wire. Down the front hallway, the kitchen spilled light across the hardwood floor he and Michael had so lovingly refinished that summer. He went to the kitchen doorway. When she saw him, Pamela, her face already glowing with whatever was in the glass she was drinking from, lit up with pleasant surprise. Across from her, Michael smiled, his expression a bitter parody of Pamela’s. His robe was sliding off his back, his hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes did no possess the same alcoholic sheen as Pamela’s.
“He lives!” Michael announced.
“Play with us!” Pamela urged; she had gotten his arm and was pulling him down into a chair.
“What… are you playing?” he managed.
“She’s lovely,” Michael said under his breath, too low for Pamela to catch.
“You’re not allowed to make fun of me!” Pamela said, he back to them as she uncapped the bottle of Tanqueray on the counter.
Beneath her playfulness, a spark of fear electrified her every motion. What had Michael done to unnerve her?
He turned to Michael. “When did she…”
“An hour ago.” Michael’s eyes were on Pamela. “Did you two have a date tonight?” he asked her.