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A review by pedroalmeida
The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker
1.0
“The Golem and the Jinni” is the debut novel of Helene Wecker, another holder of a Masters in Creative Writing diploma. It falls within the urban phantasy/historical fiction mongrel genre, and relates the story of a Jinni, a creature from arabian mythos (think Aladdin), and a Golem from jewish folklore (to the likes of Frankenstein, but made of clay).
Take two improbable beings, throw them into immigrant-swarmed New York at the turn of the 20th century and you get the raw ingredients for culture-clash plot, with the same overall emotional cloth that drapes most of Disney’s children classics.
Which is my number one objection: who is the target audience for this book? Seriously. Because never have I felt so much at a loss with the author’s plans. The basic morality begins to be suitable for a child coming into adolescence, the awkward mature theme that drills into the narrative every now and then might appeal to the mid-teen at conflict with his emerging desires, and the absence of younger characters makes me think the book is addressed to young adults. So which one is it?
The prose is basic at best, there is an overabundance of useless detail that clogs the narrative to a snail-like pace – innumerable references to places in New York city, parks, monuments, what have you; or little actions or events which truly DO NOT need to be described – contrasting deeply with the setting that is lacking.
The characters bear as much depth as paper cut figures and there is this implied notion that every emotion has to be dissected in its minute parts, lest the reader looses himself in the train of thought. Which is rather pointless and annoying when characters are utterly boring and predictable.
The difference between the Yiddish-speaking community and Little Syria appears to be a predilection for either coffee houses or metalsmithing, and even the expected language barriers are eclipsed by the omnipresent English and the fitting skill at universal speech that both Jinni and Golem possess. Which is sad, cause the varied cultural exposition held a lot of promise – all to waste.
Side characters, save one, are irrelevant and carbon copies of each other, they appear and disappear as MacGuffins to advance the plot and die when the author has no more use for them or, clearly, when their presence might offend the mystical fairy land mentality the permeates the whole work.
After a quick reread I’ve noticed I failed at smothering my cynicism, so I’ll cut it short. Read “The Golem and the Jinni” if you’re trying to feel better or you’d rather believe the world was frozen in the image the six-year old you formed. That is ok. Among life’s tragedies, looking for comfort is human and I’d be the first the confess it.
But when you try to instill values, as I deeply believe the author tried to, and imbue your work with your own vision it’s lamentable and sad to do so under false pretenses, lame assumptions of a sparkly world. Fantasy has always been the means by which life has touched its boundaries, and perhaps dared to cross them, but it’s a connection that goes both ways: you cannot dot fantasy with an aura of innocence and expect it to be meaningful for the humans the exist on the earthen side.
Read “The Golem and the Jinni” if you’re looking for escapism, but you can drink yourself senseless in less time and (maybe) less money. Read it for the sake of reading pulp fiction, but don’t expect feeling you learned much in the end.
Or maybe pay heed to the wise words. Life’s too short to read crap.
Take two improbable beings, throw them into immigrant-swarmed New York at the turn of the 20th century and you get the raw ingredients for culture-clash plot, with the same overall emotional cloth that drapes most of Disney’s children classics.
Which is my number one objection: who is the target audience for this book? Seriously. Because never have I felt so much at a loss with the author’s plans. The basic morality begins to be suitable for a child coming into adolescence, the awkward mature theme that drills into the narrative every now and then might appeal to the mid-teen at conflict with his emerging desires, and the absence of younger characters makes me think the book is addressed to young adults. So which one is it?
The prose is basic at best, there is an overabundance of useless detail that clogs the narrative to a snail-like pace – innumerable references to places in New York city, parks, monuments, what have you; or little actions or events which truly DO NOT need to be described – contrasting deeply with the setting that is lacking.
The characters bear as much depth as paper cut figures and there is this implied notion that every emotion has to be dissected in its minute parts, lest the reader looses himself in the train of thought. Which is rather pointless and annoying when characters are utterly boring and predictable.
The difference between the Yiddish-speaking community and Little Syria appears to be a predilection for either coffee houses or metalsmithing, and even the expected language barriers are eclipsed by the omnipresent English and the fitting skill at universal speech that both Jinni and Golem possess. Which is sad, cause the varied cultural exposition held a lot of promise – all to waste.
Side characters, save one, are irrelevant and carbon copies of each other, they appear and disappear as MacGuffins to advance the plot and die when the author has no more use for them or, clearly, when their presence might offend the mystical fairy land mentality the permeates the whole work.
After a quick reread I’ve noticed I failed at smothering my cynicism, so I’ll cut it short. Read “The Golem and the Jinni” if you’re trying to feel better or you’d rather believe the world was frozen in the image the six-year old you formed. That is ok. Among life’s tragedies, looking for comfort is human and I’d be the first the confess it.
But when you try to instill values, as I deeply believe the author tried to, and imbue your work with your own vision it’s lamentable and sad to do so under false pretenses, lame assumptions of a sparkly world. Fantasy has always been the means by which life has touched its boundaries, and perhaps dared to cross them, but it’s a connection that goes both ways: you cannot dot fantasy with an aura of innocence and expect it to be meaningful for the humans the exist on the earthen side.
Read “The Golem and the Jinni” if you’re looking for escapism, but you can drink yourself senseless in less time and (maybe) less money. Read it for the sake of reading pulp fiction, but don’t expect feeling you learned much in the end.
Or maybe pay heed to the wise words. Life’s too short to read crap.