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Acanthea Grimscythe (300 KP) rated Let the Right One In in Books
May 16, 2018
Several years ago, I had the pleasure (I think?) of watching the American remake of the film, Let the Right One In, which was titled Let Me In. I don’t remember any of it -only that I had found it interesting at the time. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with the fact that, during those years, I had an obsession with vampires. In fact, I gobbled up the Twilight books around then, and yes I am ashamed to admit that. Let the Right One In never crossed my mind again after that, until I received a box of books for free and found a copy of the Thomas Dunne Books translation inside it. Remembering the movie vaguely, and knowing the original version is among my boyfriend’s favorite films, I decided to give it a read and, once again, I am not in the least bit disappointed. I’m not sure if it’s a difference in what Americans find to be taboo in comparison to Swedish folk or what, but between John Ajvide Lindqvist and Stieg Larsson, I think I’m ready to delve deeper into Scandinavian novels!
Lindqvist has created for readers a completely deplorable cast of characters, ranging from Eli, the child, to her caretaker, Håkan Bengtsson. These characters aren’t hate-worthy in the same manner as Gone Girl‘s Amy Dunne, but rather in the way that they simply are. I won’t go too much into the details behind why I find the cast of this book to be unsavory, because I feel that just about anything I could say about the characters would, in one form or another, spoil the book; these characters and their flaws, which are bountiful, provide the book with so many unexpected twists and turns that just about anything that could be said might reveal something vital to the plot. Except for my favorite character, which, oddly enough, is Gösta. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that, like Gösta, I adore cats and it is extremely difficult for me to not want to take a stray in. (My boyfriend and I have too many, and I love them more than the entire world!)
The plot takes place over the course of about three weeks, beginning near the last week of October and ending on Friday, November 13. For a book of about five-hundred pages, that’s quite a few days to cover and often, that expanse of time, when it is written as detailed as Lindqvist has penned it, can seem like it simply drags on – that is not the case here. As I read, it felt more like a few days than several weeks, largely because the plot is fast paced and constantly moving. Because there isn’t a lot of exposition, there isn’t really much to slow the story down. Told from alternating perspectives, readers are given several different points of view of what’s going on, and from there it is relatively easy to come to your own conclusions regarding the story’s events as well as the behaviors of the various characters. Those I loathed, others might feel pity for, and vice versa.
Let the Right One In is a vampire novel, as I’ve alluded to earlier in this review; however, Lindqvist does not approach the idea of vampires in the same method that many books do presently. These are not romanticized vampires, but rather monsters. Horrible, bloodthirsty creatures that will rip out your throat, not sparkle – that’s what Lindqvist’s vampires are. This fact alone scores extra points with me, because I prefer vampires as the terrors they are meant to be, rather than the glorified, dark lovers that plague most contemporary literature.
My only gripe with this translation of Let the Right One In deals largely with its flow. While the story itself is excellent and the characters dynamic, the translation seemed to be a bit on the rough side. I do not speak Swedish. If I did, I wouldn’t have a use for the translated version of the story. That said, I know absolutely nothing of the language. Given that my major is in Creative Writing and that I have taken Linguistic courses, I do know that some languages have no tense – at least, not in the way that those of us that speak English view it. That said, there are many times in the translation that I was reading where the tense seemed to switch randomly, and I do not know if this was intentional or not. It was not an issue that I encountered while reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo though, so it’s a bit hard for me to be forgiving about it.
This book was definitely worth the read, and I’m hoping that I’ll get a chance to watch the original film adaptation in the future – my boyfriend might have it, actually. I should check!
Lindqvist has created for readers a completely deplorable cast of characters, ranging from Eli, the child, to her caretaker, Håkan Bengtsson. These characters aren’t hate-worthy in the same manner as Gone Girl‘s Amy Dunne, but rather in the way that they simply are. I won’t go too much into the details behind why I find the cast of this book to be unsavory, because I feel that just about anything I could say about the characters would, in one form or another, spoil the book; these characters and their flaws, which are bountiful, provide the book with so many unexpected twists and turns that just about anything that could be said might reveal something vital to the plot. Except for my favorite character, which, oddly enough, is Gösta. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that, like Gösta, I adore cats and it is extremely difficult for me to not want to take a stray in. (My boyfriend and I have too many, and I love them more than the entire world!)
The plot takes place over the course of about three weeks, beginning near the last week of October and ending on Friday, November 13. For a book of about five-hundred pages, that’s quite a few days to cover and often, that expanse of time, when it is written as detailed as Lindqvist has penned it, can seem like it simply drags on – that is not the case here. As I read, it felt more like a few days than several weeks, largely because the plot is fast paced and constantly moving. Because there isn’t a lot of exposition, there isn’t really much to slow the story down. Told from alternating perspectives, readers are given several different points of view of what’s going on, and from there it is relatively easy to come to your own conclusions regarding the story’s events as well as the behaviors of the various characters. Those I loathed, others might feel pity for, and vice versa.
Let the Right One In is a vampire novel, as I’ve alluded to earlier in this review; however, Lindqvist does not approach the idea of vampires in the same method that many books do presently. These are not romanticized vampires, but rather monsters. Horrible, bloodthirsty creatures that will rip out your throat, not sparkle – that’s what Lindqvist’s vampires are. This fact alone scores extra points with me, because I prefer vampires as the terrors they are meant to be, rather than the glorified, dark lovers that plague most contemporary literature.
My only gripe with this translation of Let the Right One In deals largely with its flow. While the story itself is excellent and the characters dynamic, the translation seemed to be a bit on the rough side. I do not speak Swedish. If I did, I wouldn’t have a use for the translated version of the story. That said, I know absolutely nothing of the language. Given that my major is in Creative Writing and that I have taken Linguistic courses, I do know that some languages have no tense – at least, not in the way that those of us that speak English view it. That said, there are many times in the translation that I was reading where the tense seemed to switch randomly, and I do not know if this was intentional or not. It was not an issue that I encountered while reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo though, so it’s a bit hard for me to be forgiving about it.
This book was definitely worth the read, and I’m hoping that I’ll get a chance to watch the original film adaptation in the future – my boyfriend might have it, actually. I should check!
Acanthea Grimscythe (300 KP) rated Let Me In in Books
May 16, 2018
Several years ago, I had the pleasure (I think?) of watching the American remake of the film, Let the Right One In, which was titled Let Me In. I don’t remember any of it -only that I had found it interesting at the time. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with the fact that, during those years, I had an obsession with vampires. In fact, I gobbled up the Twilight books around then, and yes I am ashamed to admit that. Let the Right One In never crossed my mind again after that, until I received a box of books for free and found a copy of the Thomas Dunne Books translation inside it. Remembering the movie vaguely, and knowing the original version is among my boyfriend’s favorite films, I decided to give it a read and, once again, I am not in the least bit disappointed. I’m not sure if it’s a difference in what Americans find to be taboo in comparison to Swedish folk or what, but between John Ajvide Lindqvist and Stieg Larsson, I think I’m ready to delve deeper into Scandinavian novels!
Lindqvist has created for readers a completely deplorable cast of characters, ranging from Eli, the child, to her caretaker, Håkan Bengtsson. These characters aren’t hate-worthy in the same manner as Gone Girl‘s Amy Dunne, but rather in the way that they simply are. I won’t go too much into the details behind why I find the cast of this book to be unsavory, because I feel that just about anything I could say about the characters would, in one form or another, spoil the book; these characters and their flaws, which are bountiful, provide the book with so many unexpected twists and turns that just about anything that could be said might reveal something vital to the plot. Except for my favorite character, which, oddly enough, is Gösta. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that, like Gösta, I adore cats and it is extremely difficult for me to not want to take a stray in. (My boyfriend and I have too many, and I love them more than the entire world!)
The plot takes place over the course of about three weeks, beginning near the last week of October and ending on Friday, November 13. For a book of about five-hundred pages, that’s quite a few days to cover and often, that expanse of time, when it is written as detailed as Lindqvist has penned it, can seem like it simply drags on – that is not the case here. As I read, it felt more like a few days than several weeks, largely because the plot is fast paced and constantly moving. Because there isn’t a lot of exposition, there isn’t really much to slow the story down. Told from alternating perspectives, readers are given several different points of view of what’s going on, and from there it is relatively easy to come to your own conclusions regarding the story’s events as well as the behaviors of the various characters. Those I loathed, others might feel pity for, and vice versa.
Let the Right One In is a vampire novel, as I’ve alluded to earlier in this review; however, Lindqvist does not approach the idea of vampires in the same method that many books do presently. These are not romanticized vampires, but rather monsters. Horrible, bloodthirsty creatures that will rip out your throat, not sparkle – that’s what Lindqvist’s vampires are. This fact alone scores extra points with me, because I prefer vampires as the terrors they are meant to be, rather than the glorified, dark lovers that plague most contemporary literature.
My only gripe with this translation of Let the Right One In deals largely with its flow. While the story itself is excellent and the characters dynamic, the translation seemed to be a bit on the rough side. I do not speak Swedish. If I did, I wouldn’t have a use for the translated version of the story. That said, I know absolutely nothing of the language. Given that my major is in Creative Writing and that I have taken Linguistic courses, I do know that some languages have no tense – at least, not in the way that those of us that speak English view it. That said, there are many times in the translation that I was reading where the tense seemed to switch randomly, and I do not know if this was intentional or not. It was not an issue that I encountered while reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo though, so it’s a bit hard for me to be forgiving about it.
This book was definitely worth the read, and I’m hoping that I’ll get a chance to watch the original film adaptation in the future – my boyfriend might have it, actually. I should check!
Lindqvist has created for readers a completely deplorable cast of characters, ranging from Eli, the child, to her caretaker, Håkan Bengtsson. These characters aren’t hate-worthy in the same manner as Gone Girl‘s Amy Dunne, but rather in the way that they simply are. I won’t go too much into the details behind why I find the cast of this book to be unsavory, because I feel that just about anything I could say about the characters would, in one form or another, spoil the book; these characters and their flaws, which are bountiful, provide the book with so many unexpected twists and turns that just about anything that could be said might reveal something vital to the plot. Except for my favorite character, which, oddly enough, is Gösta. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that, like Gösta, I adore cats and it is extremely difficult for me to not want to take a stray in. (My boyfriend and I have too many, and I love them more than the entire world!)
The plot takes place over the course of about three weeks, beginning near the last week of October and ending on Friday, November 13. For a book of about five-hundred pages, that’s quite a few days to cover and often, that expanse of time, when it is written as detailed as Lindqvist has penned it, can seem like it simply drags on – that is not the case here. As I read, it felt more like a few days than several weeks, largely because the plot is fast paced and constantly moving. Because there isn’t a lot of exposition, there isn’t really much to slow the story down. Told from alternating perspectives, readers are given several different points of view of what’s going on, and from there it is relatively easy to come to your own conclusions regarding the story’s events as well as the behaviors of the various characters. Those I loathed, others might feel pity for, and vice versa.
Let the Right One In is a vampire novel, as I’ve alluded to earlier in this review; however, Lindqvist does not approach the idea of vampires in the same method that many books do presently. These are not romanticized vampires, but rather monsters. Horrible, bloodthirsty creatures that will rip out your throat, not sparkle – that’s what Lindqvist’s vampires are. This fact alone scores extra points with me, because I prefer vampires as the terrors they are meant to be, rather than the glorified, dark lovers that plague most contemporary literature.
My only gripe with this translation of Let the Right One In deals largely with its flow. While the story itself is excellent and the characters dynamic, the translation seemed to be a bit on the rough side. I do not speak Swedish. If I did, I wouldn’t have a use for the translated version of the story. That said, I know absolutely nothing of the language. Given that my major is in Creative Writing and that I have taken Linguistic courses, I do know that some languages have no tense – at least, not in the way that those of us that speak English view it. That said, there are many times in the translation that I was reading where the tense seemed to switch randomly, and I do not know if this was intentional or not. It was not an issue that I encountered while reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo though, so it’s a bit hard for me to be forgiving about it.
This book was definitely worth the read, and I’m hoping that I’ll get a chance to watch the original film adaptation in the future – my boyfriend might have it, actually. I should check!
Acanthea Grimscythe (300 KP) rated The Graveyard Apartment in Books
May 16, 2018
I've spent the past few days buried up to my eyeballs in Mariko Koike's The Graveyard Apartment, and to say I thoroughly enjoyed the book would be a lie; in fact, it failed to live up to my expectations and I am left wanting. Before I delve into my review, I would like to thank NetGalley, Thomas Dunne Books, and the author and translator, for providing me with an advanced reader's copy for the purpose of an unbiased review.
Horror is my ultimate weakness. Anything that has the potential to be spooky or scary, I am likely to gobble up without a second thought: or, at the very least, take the time to sit down and read or watch. After reading the synopsis for Mariko Koike's The Graveyard Apartment, I eagerly applied for the opportunity to review a copy of the book prior to release. Now that I've finished devouring it, I find myself with many unanswered questions.
The Graveyard Apartment takes place in the late 80s, and was, in fact, originally published in 1986. It tells the tale of a small family, the Kanos, that has made their first real estate purchase: a comfortable, two bedroom apartment located on the eight floor of a new apartment building that, as the book's title indicates, is located near a graveyard... and a temple... and a crematorium. Apparently that's not enough to warn off potential buyers though, because the Kanos are not the only ones duped into purchasing one of the fourteen apartments. Once they've settled in, strange occurrences begin and they quickly find themselves in a living nightmare.
Beginning with the characters, I find nearly all of them to be unlikable in one way or another, with the exception of the daughter, Tamao. Her parents, Misao and Teppei Kano, strike me as extremely self-centered and one-dimensional, as do her aunt and uncle, Naomi and Tatsuji. Their downstairs neighbors, the Inoues, are precisely what you'd expect of a more outgoing family, and the managers of the apartment are rather dry in comparison. I felt little to no sympathy at any point for anyone other than the daughter, the dog, and the finch and for this, especially in something that has been labeled a psychological thriller, is extremely disappointing. Without being able to form a connection to the characters, I tend to find it difficult to actually care about what happens to them, and so upon the conclusion of the book, I simply shrugged and closed my Kindle app.
The story itself has a lot of potential, and yes I am aware that is a word I throw around a lot in my reviews. When I look at a plot, I tend to form my own thoughts regarding what could happen, and a lot of times that does lead to me being let down. For instance, in The Graveyard Apartment we learn that Misao is Teppei's second wife, the first having been lost to tragedy. Though Teppei's first wife, Reiko, is mentioned very often in the book, and made to seem as if there is a key role to be played by her, there actually isn't: it's all useless information that has been thrown out to the reader, but has no real connotation on the story. Likewise, Misao discovers that there had originally been plans to build an underground mall in the area back in the 60s. Given the strange things that happen throughout the book, one might expect to see and learn a lot more about this supposed mall and the aftermath of its construction having been canceled. We don't. Again, it is an element to the story that is not fully fleshed out, even though it is clearly a major factor in the history of the apartment building that the Kanos have moved into.
As if those two players weren't enough of a disappointment, the book does not come to a conclusion, and for me this is a disappointment. I don't care much for happy endings; in fact, I rather prefer unhappy endings. The Graveyard Apartment robs us of any sense of finality, though, and in truth fails to draw the story to a true close. As a reader, we can surmise the outcome based on the book's epilogue, but that's about as much we can do. We can figure out what happened to the Kanos and their fate, but we do not learn why. Instead, Koike continues to hint at a malevolent being haunting a recently built apartment complex whose origins are unknown, and whose origins no one really seems to be overly curious about. Sure, they're scared, but they don't really seem to care beyond that. There wasn't any shortage of clues either, as to why the place may have been haunted; only a lack of motivation in regards to finding out why that extends beyond Teppei's initial apprehension.
I really, truly can't wrap my head around how much was wasted in this book. It was like watching a B-rated horror flick where someone forgot to tie up the loose ends. Honestly, I would have liked to see more revealed regarding Reiko and the failed underground mall.
Horror is my ultimate weakness. Anything that has the potential to be spooky or scary, I am likely to gobble up without a second thought: or, at the very least, take the time to sit down and read or watch. After reading the synopsis for Mariko Koike's The Graveyard Apartment, I eagerly applied for the opportunity to review a copy of the book prior to release. Now that I've finished devouring it, I find myself with many unanswered questions.
The Graveyard Apartment takes place in the late 80s, and was, in fact, originally published in 1986. It tells the tale of a small family, the Kanos, that has made their first real estate purchase: a comfortable, two bedroom apartment located on the eight floor of a new apartment building that, as the book's title indicates, is located near a graveyard... and a temple... and a crematorium. Apparently that's not enough to warn off potential buyers though, because the Kanos are not the only ones duped into purchasing one of the fourteen apartments. Once they've settled in, strange occurrences begin and they quickly find themselves in a living nightmare.
Beginning with the characters, I find nearly all of them to be unlikable in one way or another, with the exception of the daughter, Tamao. Her parents, Misao and Teppei Kano, strike me as extremely self-centered and one-dimensional, as do her aunt and uncle, Naomi and Tatsuji. Their downstairs neighbors, the Inoues, are precisely what you'd expect of a more outgoing family, and the managers of the apartment are rather dry in comparison. I felt little to no sympathy at any point for anyone other than the daughter, the dog, and the finch and for this, especially in something that has been labeled a psychological thriller, is extremely disappointing. Without being able to form a connection to the characters, I tend to find it difficult to actually care about what happens to them, and so upon the conclusion of the book, I simply shrugged and closed my Kindle app.
The story itself has a lot of potential, and yes I am aware that is a word I throw around a lot in my reviews. When I look at a plot, I tend to form my own thoughts regarding what could happen, and a lot of times that does lead to me being let down. For instance, in The Graveyard Apartment we learn that Misao is Teppei's second wife, the first having been lost to tragedy. Though Teppei's first wife, Reiko, is mentioned very often in the book, and made to seem as if there is a key role to be played by her, there actually isn't: it's all useless information that has been thrown out to the reader, but has no real connotation on the story. Likewise, Misao discovers that there had originally been plans to build an underground mall in the area back in the 60s. Given the strange things that happen throughout the book, one might expect to see and learn a lot more about this supposed mall and the aftermath of its construction having been canceled. We don't. Again, it is an element to the story that is not fully fleshed out, even though it is clearly a major factor in the history of the apartment building that the Kanos have moved into.
As if those two players weren't enough of a disappointment, the book does not come to a conclusion, and for me this is a disappointment. I don't care much for happy endings; in fact, I rather prefer unhappy endings. The Graveyard Apartment robs us of any sense of finality, though, and in truth fails to draw the story to a true close. As a reader, we can surmise the outcome based on the book's epilogue, but that's about as much we can do. We can figure out what happened to the Kanos and their fate, but we do not learn why. Instead, Koike continues to hint at a malevolent being haunting a recently built apartment complex whose origins are unknown, and whose origins no one really seems to be overly curious about. Sure, they're scared, but they don't really seem to care beyond that. There wasn't any shortage of clues either, as to why the place may have been haunted; only a lack of motivation in regards to finding out why that extends beyond Teppei's initial apprehension.
I really, truly can't wrap my head around how much was wasted in this book. It was like watching a B-rated horror flick where someone forgot to tie up the loose ends. Honestly, I would have liked to see more revealed regarding Reiko and the failed underground mall.