Carlos Ruiz Zafon, the author of The Shadow of the Wind, has churned out another one which is quite similar to his previous one. Shrouded in Zafon’s signature mystery, the story weaves around the life of a writer, his unrequited love life, la femme de la vie, his protective mentor (and for good reason), Barcelona, magic and books. Let me tell you the Devil IS in the detail. Given all this, I still don’t think I have blurted out all the nuances contained within the book.
Maybe I expected more from the book, or maybe it was on similar lines of the prequel, I again found Zafon’s ending to completely fall flat against the great beginnings that he writes. My reviews on books are totally personal and I suggest the reader not take my word to judge it because I have had the best sellers, Pulitzer Prize winners cradled in my hands but unable not to finish them. However, I bought this book for the simple fact that I wanted reassurance that there are some authors’ books that I will never be able to keep down before finishing it, prolong sleepless nights to get to the last word in the last page and he did not betray my hope. I loved the book, I loved the angst a writer goes through. I loved the fact that I went out bought this book and obsessed about it.
0 Scribbles:
Post a Comment