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cartoonmicah 's review for:
Caging Skies
by Christine Leunens
Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers.
Here is one of the few books I have ever rushed to finish because I was hoping against hope it would suddenly get better. If you loved JoJo Rabbit and considered reading this book because you found the movie funny and poignant and deep, turn back now. Do not enter these waters of such tragic disappointment.
For the first third of this novel, the premise follows that of the film, though along lines that are less insightful and far less generous to the protagonist. There is a lot to think about, to imagine being a child inculcated by Nazi propaganda against your own parents wills. The film makes this far more poignant than the book does, but there is still a lot of historical content to chew on. The film plot concludes about a third of the way into the novel, and the reasons become strikingly obvious. From here, the premise shifts entirely to that of an overdrawn Hitchcock film. No redeeming or consoling qualities are ever loaned out to young Johannes, but he quickly evolves from a confused and selfish little boy to a demented and obsessive adult.
I have to spoil this book. It’s too annoying.
The first third of this book, taking place during the war, is about family drama in a house divided by the Third Reich. Throw in parents who are hiding a Jewish girl and you have a really incredible premise that is somewhat squashed by the annoying personality of the narrator. Johannes is completely lacking in self awareness and barely takes time to mention the contradictions as he hates and Jews and obsesses over an imaginary romance with one in particular. He expresses a level of derangement as he hurts his family members to gain their sympathies while also considering turning them over to the authorities. Once everyone in his family but him is dead, he matures into a man who is equally ready to kill or die for the woman he continues to lie to and hide for years after the war ends.
Most of this book is like the slow, boring, day to day diary of Norman Bates, if he preferred to chain girls up in the attic and lived in Ally occupied Vienna after WWII.
“Dear Diary, Grandma died today. Anyway, I want to kill Elsa because she barely says thank you when I bring her tea, even though I sold the family heirlooms to buy it for her. I told her about how responsible she was for my mother’s death until she cried and then I felt better and I was so sad for her that I wanted to kiss her.”
There you have the basic premise of this book. As the plotless story inches forward, the historically insightful elements about post-war occupation and economic deterioration are overpowered by emotionally obsessive bipolar poetic nonsense that reminded me of a less intellectual Stephenwolf or *shuddering* Other Worlds. Yikes!
About two thirds of the way through the novel, I began to think that none of it could possibly make sense unless Elsa was a split personality of Johannes, simply a ghost or a memory built upon unrecognized guilt and unremarked upon grief. I still think it’s possible to interpret the book that way. Perhaps I’m too dense to recognize that this was the explicit goal of the author. If so, this brings my assessment up by at least half a star. But what’s the difference between 1 and 1.5 stars, really?
Here is one of the few books I have ever rushed to finish because I was hoping against hope it would suddenly get better. If you loved JoJo Rabbit and considered reading this book because you found the movie funny and poignant and deep, turn back now. Do not enter these waters of such tragic disappointment.
For the first third of this novel, the premise follows that of the film, though along lines that are less insightful and far less generous to the protagonist. There is a lot to think about, to imagine being a child inculcated by Nazi propaganda against your own parents wills. The film makes this far more poignant than the book does, but there is still a lot of historical content to chew on. The film plot concludes about a third of the way into the novel, and the reasons become strikingly obvious. From here, the premise shifts entirely to that of an overdrawn Hitchcock film. No redeeming or consoling qualities are ever loaned out to young Johannes, but he quickly evolves from a confused and selfish little boy to a demented and obsessive adult.
I have to spoil this book. It’s too annoying.
The first third of this book, taking place during the war, is about family drama in a house divided by the Third Reich. Throw in parents who are hiding a Jewish girl and you have a really incredible premise that is somewhat squashed by the annoying personality of the narrator. Johannes is completely lacking in self awareness and barely takes time to mention the contradictions as he hates and Jews and obsesses over an imaginary romance with one in particular. He expresses a level of derangement as he hurts his family members to gain their sympathies while also considering turning them over to the authorities. Once everyone in his family but him is dead, he matures into a man who is equally ready to kill or die for the woman he continues to lie to and hide for years after the war ends.
Most of this book is like the slow, boring, day to day diary of Norman Bates, if he preferred to chain girls up in the attic and lived in Ally occupied Vienna after WWII.
“Dear Diary, Grandma died today. Anyway, I want to kill Elsa because she barely says thank you when I bring her tea, even though I sold the family heirlooms to buy it for her. I told her about how responsible she was for my mother’s death until she cried and then I felt better and I was so sad for her that I wanted to kiss her.”
There you have the basic premise of this book. As the plotless story inches forward, the historically insightful elements about post-war occupation and economic deterioration are overpowered by emotionally obsessive bipolar poetic nonsense that reminded me of a less intellectual Stephenwolf or *shuddering* Other Worlds. Yikes!
About two thirds of the way through the novel, I began to think that none of it could possibly make sense unless Elsa was a split personality of Johannes, simply a ghost or a memory built upon unrecognized guilt and unremarked upon grief. I still think it’s possible to interpret the book that way. Perhaps I’m too dense to recognize that this was the explicit goal of the author. If so, this brings my assessment up by at least half a star. But what’s the difference between 1 and 1.5 stars, really?