“Not everyone who reaches back into history can survive it.”

I hope I will have time to write more about this book later, but one thing I need to mention is: what you hear about is true. The denouement is ridiculous and I honestly don't understand why it had to be this why, since it's more than apparent that Kostova's imagination is, to say the least, extraordinarily vivid. Dracula's motive is implausible and unconvincing, but I feel that it holds a symbolic meaning in Kostova's conception of the novel, and therefore, even though plot-wise it's nothing short of embarrassing, I can turn a blind eye on it. I can do that especially because the rest of the book, that is to say more than 620 out of a total of 700, is not only entertaining, but also both insanely instructive and insanely intriguing, and I loved it madly. More on the reasons later.

Full RTC

Am I destined for some kind of literary hell if I say I wish Dan Brown would rewrite this story with the spark and intensity of the Da Vinci Code?

I think I read some review here on GoodReads that called this a book to be conquered. You know, one where after a time you feel so invested that you MUST finish it, you must defeat the book, you will NOT give up, no matter how much you are suffering. Whoever said that about Kostova's The Historian, I salute you.

I kept telling my friends I was reading "a book about hunting for Dracula through libraries across Europe," and that it was about as exciting as it sounds. I also needed to conquer this book because I wanted to figure out why so many people, good friends of mine included, loved this book. Maybe the long, hard, snoozy slog, occasionally punctuated by some good old fashioned undead suspense every hundred pages or so, would have a really terrific ending that made it all worth it. Clearly Kostova is very influenced by Gothic and Victorian writers like Stoker, so maybe this book would have a grand payoff of an ending to merit the praise and best-sellerness.

Instead, Dracula is a librarian. Sigh. Just as boring as it sounds.

It wasn't completely terrible - many charicterizations are off the charts for their specificity and originality. The thing about the books with the Drakulya print was really intriguing. Except that's not enough. The Drakulya books, which could be counted as a premise, with the intrinsic map that is hammered on as a significant discovery, amount to nothing. The map doesn't even figure into the conclusion! Not even with a character saying, "we were totally wrong about that map."

So while I enjoyed parts of this book, and had many moments when I couldn't put it down (the alternate to finding it incredibly tedious, with no in-between), I think its merits don't outweigh its shortcomings. I wish I'd read an Actual Gothic novel - maybe even by Bram Stoker - instead of wasting way too long on this frustrating book.

“It is with regret that I imagine you, whoever you are, reading the account I must put down here. The regret is partly for myself – because I will surely be at least in trouble, maybe dead, or perhaps worse, if this is in your hands. But my regret is also for you, my yet-unknown friend, because only by someone who needs such vile information will this letter someday be read. If you are not my successor in some other sense, you will soon be my heir – and I feel sorrow at bequeathing to another human being my own, perhaps unbelievable, experience of evil. Why I myself inherited it I don’t know, but I hope to discover that fact, eventually – perhaps in the course of writing to you or perhaps in the course of further events…”
-tElizabeth Kostova, The Historian

I would have enjoyed being at the pitch meeting for Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian.

Well, most people think Dracula isn’t real, Kostova must have explained. What this book supposes is that not only is he real, but he’s still alive, and wreaking havoc on the world.

She must have paused here, expecting, perhaps, to be thrown from the room. Allowed to remain, she plunged forward.

My main character is a historian, she would have continued. All the action takes place in libraries, and consists of primary source research. Yes, primary source research. As in, looking at really old writings, and then discussing them, a lot.

She would have paused for breath, at this moment.

Also, it is over 600 pages long.

Clearly, that meeting went well.

The Historian was the “it” book of 2005. It came with a huge advance and big expectations and a national promotional tour. From the start it was a bestseller, capitalizing on the success of The Da Vinci Code, with which is shares more than a few similarities.

I purchased The Historian back in 2005, and it has sat on my bookshelf ever since. A lot of time has passed since then. I was young, and single, and childless, and I hadn’t even heard of Game of Thrones. Now I’m not so young, single, or childless, and at times I wish I’d never heard of Game of Thrones. All that time sitting has been rough on The Historian. It now looks as old and worn as one of the ancient documents fondled so lovingly by the characters who populate the novel. I’m not sure what persuaded me to finally read it, other than a gnawing guilt that I paid cover price for it twelve years ago.

While The Historian’s premise is simple, the plot is hopelessly convoluted. Like Bram Stoker’s Dracula, this is an epistolary novel, with large chunks of it coming in the form of “letters” written by various characters.

The story unfolds in three different time periods. The central thread is set in the 1970s and is narrated by the unnamed daughter of a historian-turned-diplomat named Paul. The daughter stumbles upon an old book that, like the VHS tape in The Ring, brings nothing but trouble to the reader. Paul eventually leaves his daughter to embark on some unfinished business; the daughter, needless to say, pursues him.

The second timeline is set in the 1950s. These portions are comprised of letters written by Paul to his daughter. They detail his pursuit – along with a companion named Helen – of both Dracula, and his mentor, Professor Bartholomew Rossi, who has gone missing.

Finally, there is a briefer arc set in the 1930s, made up by letters written by Rossi himself.

The plot contrivances and temporal leaps are not inherently difficult to follow. However, the aesthetics of The Historian lead to confusion. I didn't have any problem with the Rossi letters set in the 1930s. Kostova makes clear that we’re reading a letter by providing a dateline, and setting the letter in italics. The Paul letters, on the other hand, are given only quotation marks. In other words, huge chunks of the novel (the Paul-Helen-1950s thread is the book’s lengthiest) consist of a nested narrative, ala Joseph Conrad. This means quotation marks. A lot of quotation marks. You have to pay close attention to shifts between the unnamed daughter’s story and Paul’s story. Both are told in first person, with little use of proper nouns. The only indicator – as I’ve indicated – are quotation marks. This not only causes uncertainty, but annoyance. I had to keep rereading sentences to separate narration from dialogue. At one point, the Paul letters decide to get a little meta, so that there is a letter within a letter. You know what that means, right? Quotation marks on top of quotation marks. Just quotation marks all the way down!

(It’s a taste thing, but I hate nested narrative. For this reason, I don’t have a great relationship with Joseph Conrad).

One of the interesting things about The Historian is its languorous pacing. Things don’t really snap into gear and start moving until around 200 pages in. Those first couple hundred pages were more like a European travel guide than a historical thriller. Paul and his daughter travel around, seeing cool sights, eating various biscuits, and having long conversations. Despite the lack of inertia, these pages were my favorite. Kostova’s great gift is in description. She is excellent at breathing life into a place, whether that’s a sunny afternoon on the Piazza San Marco in Venice, a glimpse at the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, or a foreboding monastery in Communist-run Bulgaria. My wife and I had our third child not too long ago, so the only traveling we’re doing is the midnight journey into madness. It’s nice, then, to visit exotic locales, if only in the mind. Kostova also has a Tolkien-esque thing for food and drink. The reader is treated to many vicarious meals as the characters hopscotch around the globe. Even when Kostova’s creations are in gravest danger, they are never too near death to have a pleasant cup of tea.

Even as the plot gradually tightens, there is never much action. Sure, there are bursts of movement. Mostly, though, The Historian takes on a predictable pattern. Paul and Helen go to various countries, find an old monastery/church/library, and speak with someone who is either totally helpful or totally against them (one of their nemeses is the “evil librarian”; not kidding, that’s what he’s called). They learn a clue, make their plans, and then head to the next destination. One is tempted to say that The Historian attempts to do for historians what Indiana Jones did for archaeologists. Except that isn’t entirely true. The historians in this novel really act a lot like real historians, except on meth. Paul and Helen visit archives, peruse old-timey documents, and attempt to decipher the past. This is rather typical for a researcher, save for the part about being stalked by the undead.

Neat tourist locales and sumptuous repasts cannot entirely hide the fact that everything else is thin gruel. The characters are props, not people. Nobody has any personality, or depth, or even a quirk. Well – that’s not entirely true. Paul’s quirk is that he keeps “groaning.” Seriously. His only reaction is to groan, or to stifle a groan. Jeez, Paul, grow up! You aren’t six anymore. The putative main character – the daughter/overall narrator – doesn’t even have a name. There isn’t a believable interaction in 642 pages. Paul sets out to find Rossi, his mentor, because…Why? To drive the story. We are told that Paul “loves” Rossi, but the key word is told. The book tells us how to feel, instead of convinces us with rich characterizations. There are, in fact, enormous spans of time in which Paul doesn’t think about Rossi at all, though he remembers to describe every meal he eats in his “letters”.

(A brief rant about epistolary novels. In short: they are such a silly conceit. It just takes me out of the novel’s world. Am I really supposed to believe that a character would write a letter hundreds of pages long? Or that this letter would be structured as a novel, replete with withheld information, reams of dialogue, internal monologues, telling details, and cliffhangers? It’s actually dumb. There’s a reason Paul can’t catch Dracula. He’s too damn busy writing his War and Peace-length letter to his daughter.)

The characters are not helped by the leaden dialogue. Just about everything spoken is exposition. I don’t necessarily expect Aaron Sorkin-like exchanges, but still, it’d be nice to have one evocative conversation.

This is a summertime read, so I grade it on that curve. It’s not bad by any means. Certainly, it wasn’t a chore to finish. But I’m also not going to give it an entirely free pass just because it’s a literary “guilty pleasure” (or whatever the term is to describe a book you’re reading when you should be finishing Dickens).

The Historian isn’t nearly as fun as its ridiculous foundation implicitly promises. This should be over-the-top goofy. There should be grand guignol violence. There should be sex, or at least half a million double-entendres. (Alas, there is no sex at all, which happens when you structure a novel as a father’s letter to his daughter). There should be a realization that this material is fundamentally lowbrow, then go even lower (but with class). Instead, Kostova handles this with portentous seriousness. This doesn’t contain any of the gonzo amusement that a globetrotting trip around Europe on Dracula’s heels should rightfully entail.

n  *****5 stars.*****n

Como he dicho anteriormente, cuando uno se enamora de la pluma de un autor difícilmente habrá poco que pueda gustar.
n  

n    n      Review in my account bookstagramn    n  

n

n  n

En este caso Kostova me atrajo con Tierra de sombras, n  RESEÑA AQUÍn, quedé tan encantada con la autora que empecé a investigar más de sus libros y descubrí La historiadora y después de leerlo quedé totalmente enamorada. No puedo ser imparcial con un libro de 700 páginas que me haya tenido enganchada durante días y noches y haberlo acabado en tan solo 6 días. Pocas veces me suceden estas cosas con un libro largo.

La historia se narra en tres épocas y como punto central la ubicación de la tumba de Drácula, su vida como figura histórica y el mito construido a su alrededor. Paul, siendo un estudiante de post-grado, inicia su estudio de Vlad El Empalador, también conocido como Vlad Dracul, cuando recibe de forma misteriosa un libro en blanco con una xilografía en la página central con el símbolo de la Orden del Dragón, creada por el padre de Vlad. Dicho libro tendrá relación con Bartholomew Rossi (director de la tesis de Paul) y con Turgut Bora, profesor turco de literatura inglesa en la Universidad de Estambul y los secretos que descubrió sobre ello.

n  n

Años después la hija de Paul descubre por casualidad unas cartas dentro de un libro, le pregunta a su padre sobre ello y este le cuenta sobre la desaparición del director de su tesis, el profesor Rossi, la búsqueda de Paul visitando bibliotecas en Estambul, monasterios en Rumania y aldeas en Bulgaria tratando de encontrar el rastro de su mentor.

n  n

El libro desde el primer capítulo me tuvo enganchada y a medida que avanzaba no decae la narración. Elizabeth Kostova supo enlanzar de forma excelente la figura histórica de Vlad con la fantasía que todo encaja perfectamente. Si algo he de decir sobre esta historia es que me encantó, la recreación de los monumentos y bibliotecas a través de la narración fue maravillo, tanto asi que me senti del libro viviéndolo todo. Lo más que amé fue Estambul; leer la narración de esa ciudad fue magia pura con Santa Sofía como elemnto central de todo.

Si hay cosas negativas, aunque considero que sólo una y fue ese final, un poco apresurado para mí y abierto a muchas incognitas. Sin embargo es de mis favoritos de este 2018 y lo recomiendo a todos.

n  Actualización 12/06/2018n

¡Espectacular! Amo esta mujer y es de mis lecturas favoritas de este año. Reseña pronto

Hmmm.
I read this at work and one of the builders in the break room looked over the top of his copy of the Daily Star and asked if this was some sort of "how to" book (he understood that I was an archaeologist and thus interpreted The Historian to be some sort of quick guide to well, being a historian). And I sighed my deepest sigh yet, as another tiny particle of my soul curled up, died and flaked off and floated away into the ether.

Obviously if I was a vampire I wouldn't have to worry about the condition of my soul because that would be long gone, along with worries about iron supplements and dental hygiene. Maybe not a bad thing in the long run.

So Vlad Tepes, Prince, Impaler and legendary ruler of Wallachia, not to mention possible embodiment of Bram Stoker's villainous Count Dracula is a living breathing actual person who has taken to sending out teasers in the form of esoteric historic folios in order to lure unto himself a librarian, historian or archivist for nefarious purposes related to archiving. As every goodreader knows, book collecting is an addiction and so imagine having over 500 years in which to collect and hoard piles of papery goodness? Vlad is not averse to snacking on his bibliophilic staff either and this got me to thinking... what would be the tastiest of all professions?

The conclusions I have drawn are based largely upon my perceptions of what each job actually entails. If you perform any of these professions then feel free to chip in and argue the pros/cons of your own tastiness.

1. Chef: Generally a little plump, well-fed, uses only the finest ingredients and are subtly flavoured after years of rubbing things in butter, slurping down sherry, red wine, bouille bases with herbs and shallots. Lets face it these people are basically self basting here. The only potential downside might be the long term exposure to garlic.

2. Athlete: Perfectly honed in their well muscled meaty suits and filled with more vitamins and minerals than you can shake a stick at plus with the added bonus of always having their blood pumping extra loudly due to all the exertion so they're easy to find.

3. Lingerie model: scantily clad and used to drapping themselves over furniture in a way which might be appealing to vampires of a more traditional frame of mind. Exposed neck area for easy biting.

4. Dentists: Probably taste minty fresh and who is to say that a vampire might not need a scrape and polish now and again?

However, I quite clearly digress. The Historian moves like a river, the edges (first and last section) swirl and spin and blood sucker you into a promising plot, however the centre has a sluggish meander where the waters get a little muddied. The story follows three generations of the same family and little by little their own history is shown to be interwoven with that of Vlad the Impalers. The narrative travels between Amsterdam, America, Oxford, France, Istanbul, Bulgaria and Romania so there are pleny of colourful scenery changes as the plot unfolds. I did enjoy this, all digression and prevarication aside and Elizabeth Kostova can write and is clearly an excellent historian in her own right, which is what pushed me on to the end without feeling the need to drive a stake through my own heart.

January 3, 2014

Dear Khanh of 2006,

I am your older, wiser self. Many things will happen in the years that have elapsed before you become the me of today. You will fall in love. You will break hearts. You will get your heart broken (karma's a bitch). You will change jobs. You will graduate from college.

Most importantly, you will become more intelligent, you will learn the art of advanced thinking because really, all college teaches you is how to get good grades by regurgitating textbooks. When you are older, as you begin to read critically, you will learn to appreciate a good book, and you will be able to identify literary bullshit when you see it.

That's all this book is. Literary bullshit.

This book is dramatic rubbish, artistic gibberish. It is nothing more than a glorified travel brochure.

Seriously, younger Khanh, what the fuck were you thinking when you enjoyed this book? You thought it was sweet, you thought it was romantic, you thought the writing was beautiful. Really? Really?

Between 2006 and 2014, you will be able to identify purple prose when you see it. You will realize that flowery prose is not good writing. Correlation does not imply causation, and good writing does not necessarily encompass a good plot.

You will be able to recognize a deus ex fucking machina when you see it. Oh, I know that you learned about deus ex machina in AP English. You learned a lot of things in English class. You learned about symbolism, foreshadowing, all that good shit, but really, it does you no fucking good unless you are able to identify it when you see it. And clearly, you did not see the tremendous, horrifying, abominable (that's a hyperbole) overuse of deus ex fucking machina upon your first perusal of this book.

You will realize that a good epistolary book involving several different characters should have the characters be actually fucking distinct. Did you seriously think this book was realistic in any way, when you cannot distinguish between the narrative of an old man, an older man, and that of a girl as she grows from her early teens?

Did you ever for a moment think upon the complete absurdity of the letters and the storytelling, particularly when said letters and spoken stories were told in excruciating minutiae. Is that realistic in any way? In your letters, have you ever once mentioned the trivialities of your evening routine, particularly when it made absolutely no relevance whatsoever to whatever point you were trying to make?

n  While I waited I poked up the fire, added another log, set out two glasses, and surveyed my desk. My study also served me for a sitting room, and I made sure it was kept as orderly and comfortable as the solidity of its nineteenth-century furnishings demanded. I had completed a great deal of work that afternoon, supped off a plate brought up to me at six o’clock, and then cleared the last of my papers.n

When you tell a story to your friends, have you ever once mentioned the drumming of your fingertips when you're trying to tell a story of---supposedly---the utmost importance?

n  I drummed my fingers on the desktop. The clock in my study seemed to be ticking unusually loudly tonight, and the urban half darkness seemed too still behind my venetian blinds.n

I know you are young and stupid, but you are not that stupid. Please don't tell me that this book fooled you in any way. Did you seriously buy into the letters and the "stories?"

Fucking letters. Fucking stories. Bullshit attempts at letters and storytelling and an epistolary timeline that is everything overwrought, all that is overdramatic and completely devoid of sense and rationality. I would beg for a little bit of sensationalism over sense, because overall, the plot of this story is entirely lacking in anything remotely resembling fascination, anything that would captivate and hold the imagination rather than lulls it to sleep.

You endured over 700 pages of this balderdash for a story that doesn't even bring any sense of excitement. Vlad Tepes holds no danger. He is the equivalent of a grown-up high school bully. Once powerful, he no longer holds any amount of thrall. The only remnants of his power are the few close hangers on, the few douchebags foolish enough to cling onto the remains of a long-diminished power. That high school bully might scare a few odd child here and there, with his posturing, with his scowls. You, as an adult, are no longer afraid. You, as an adult, should know better than to buy into this book's aesthetically pleasing, inconsequential claptrap.

Reluctantly yours,

An older, a more erudite, a considerably more critical

- Khanh

Don't let the 2 star rating fool you - I would still recommend this book for fun. POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD.

It strikes me that scholars and graduate students (even sexier!) are now the go-to heroes for this continuing genre of suspenseful historical/mystery/magic quests. Da Vinci Code blah blah blah. That's right, to save the world, one must be a careful reader, and in this book, it struck me as especially humorous that in his infinite evil, Dracula infiltrates the minds of those who can truly commit nefarious deeds: They will rip cards out of the card catalogue! They will confiscate your library privileges! They will you stop you from, gasp, reading! In short, they will stop you from entering the dangerous world of nerddom, you nerd. And if you should succumb in your valiant scholarly efforts, beware.....or you might become.....A LIBRARIAN IN HELL. Yes, indeed, a fate worse than death.

So Dracula tries to lure the most promising scholars to him, as what he as always desired, above even power and awe, is a well-catalogued library of rare documents? So he distributes books to said scholars, warns them copiously when they *do* attempt to follow these clues to their logical conclusion, but then secretly desires them to find his lair anyway? So that he can then freak out and move it? He both covets and resists their cleverness? Doesn't quite sit right with me as the "grand reveal." Just read the Stoker classic! Sooo delightful, far more blood-curdling, far more intriguing to probe for deeper symbolism. This Dracula seems fairly bland in comparison, as do its principal characters.

I can only hope that although I am not a historian, nor pursuing a PhD, there may be room for a toiling MFA student in one of these labyrinthine plots.

"I can't make it out," she said, squinting at the closely-typed pages, hand trembling. A line of concentration appeared in her forehead. "Wait! I think - I think it says that I must write a two-page scene where one character expounds entirely in monologue! Damn you, you diabolical genius, damn you!"

Perhaps the evil genius of myth will cultivate an interest in the literary arts? Can't wait.

Well written, interesting perspective on Vlad the Impaler. Good research into the history of that part of the world.

Tentatively, my hand crept towards the mouse. What dark and unholy specter could be contained in other people's reviews of Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian?

I was filled with passive-voiced dread as the link was clicked by me. I was horrified to read:

xdragonlady's review:
"My main problem with the book being that the author told the tale from so many different points of view, but that they were each told in first person without giving the reader any notice as to who was telling the tale. [...] I don't understand why this book is on the bestseller's list."

I was aghast! Could the novel I had just read really have been a confounding multi-tiered multiple first-person narrative with lack-luster voices which the author clearly mistook for a clever attempt at recreating a sense of research?

With much hesitation, I read on.

"I find myself thinking of my mother's comment after she read the Da Vinci Code, that it was ok but she knew many other books that were written much better that should be best sellers. I wish Brien had read the book at the same time as I did, I would liked to have talked to him about it."

Blast! I too wondered what xdragonladyx's mother and friend Brien would have thought! If only she could have included a detailed transcription of their own reviews! I may now never know if either of them viewed The Historian as an attempt to capitalize on the fad of Dan Brown-style mysteries and the vampire genre!

Suddenly, a wayward link caught my eye and I clicked.

Silver's review:
"I think I read some review here on GoodReads that called this a book to be conquered. You know, one where after a time you feel so invested that you MUST finish it, you must defeat the book, you will NOT give up, no matter how much you are suffering. Whoever said that about Kostova's The Historian, I salute you."

As I read this thing about someone reading something else somewhere, I was reminded of my own refusal to allow the dry 600+ page tome to defeat me, and that by the time I had completed the flatulent ending, not only had I conquered it, but impaled it still screaming onto a ten-foot stake. It was dead and without the risk of ever returning to life, so that no one would ever have to read it again.

You're welcome.

What a wonderfully well researched book for historical fictions fans. Elizabeth Kostova sure knows storytelling and did a terrific job interweaving the search for Dracula (The Impaler) and Eastern European history. The author takes you through ancient castles, churches, and libraries looking through documents for clues to the whereabouts of the historical Dracula.

The book is entrancing, but a bit slow at times when progressing through over 22 CD's. My biggest complaint is I didn't care for the quickly wrapped-up ending. Otherwise, I enjoyed the mix of historical fiction and light horror.

4 out of 5 stars.

Este libro tenía toda la pinta de ser una gran promesa, con todos los ingredientes.

Kostova ambienta su libro en parte de los años setenta, una parte de la historia de esos años, intenta escribir con un lenguaje muy florido, pero para mí realmente sonó algo exagerado o excesivo. Si, sé que su personaje es una joven historiadora, pero la narrativa podría ser más elegante, incluso en una historia sobre jóvenes. Todos en la historia hablan con la misma voz. Por no hablar de que en varias ocasiones tuve que volver y releer porque había perdido el hilo de quién hablaba. Mucho cambio, mismo tono.

La estructura multinarrativa es ambiciosa es un guiño a la novela de Stoker, pero Kostova no lo logra. Todos sus personajes, suenan parecidos no los diferenciaba. Hay demasiada exposición y repetición. Kostova sobrescribió. Mucho. Una cantidad excesiva de páginas que sobran en el libro. La perspectiva cambiaba con frecuencia. Fue confuso, agotador, aburrido a ratos, otros que tenía que volver atrás, personajes vacíos muy planos. Una historia que podía haber dado para grandes cosas con buenos resultados. Una idea interesante. Pero está mal llevado, todo demasiado excesivo. Como resultado convirtió su lectura en un coñazo para mi.

Escribe sobre Vlad Tepes, Drácula, intentando crear una nueva versión a la historia, pero en realidad hacer esto ya es muy difícil que sea un éxito. Nada nuevo, nada sorprendente. En los momentos de mayor suspense, por denominarlos de alguna manera ya que a eso es que no puede ni llamársele "intento de" me sorprendía estar leyendo y ver el intento de la autora de crear tensión. La protagonista tiene momentos en los que teme por su vida, lo pasa mal o pasa algo, y va la escena siguiente y está tomando un té tan tranquilamente. ¿Pero qué...? No ha logrado ni ejecutar, ni mezclar bien los momentos. Algunos me parecieron absurdos. Crea tensión, la rompe pronto, o lo deja ahí sin más. Muy mundano..

Los personajes. Inexistentes. De cartón. No son nada realistas. No encontré nada en ellos que llame la atención lo más mínimo, sin diferencias entre unos y otros. Usan el mismo tono, o tienen las mismas reacciones y todo se conecta al azar. No hay "casi nada" creíble en ellos o yo ni les preste la debida atención entre los bostezos y el café debido a las cartas. De las que luego hablaré, porque joder, tiene tela la cosa...

La protagonista en la historia ya para empezar solo se mueve por la superación, por el deseo de resolver el misterio que su padre no pudo, para demostrar que es una mejor historiadora. No hay más, vacío, con momentos que en fin..

Las cosas simplemente suceden. Así por que si. Sin razón. Hay deux ex maquina para regalar y los personajes pues se juntan románticamente hablando, de la manera más sosa y a momentos sin sentido. Por que sí. Sin lógica, simplemente lo hacen sin más. Sin nada que haga entrar en materia. Joder algo de sal, especias. Algo de sabor joder. Romance absurdo que no despierta interés alguno.

Las cartas, ¡Las puñeteras cartas!, detalladas, mucho, vaya que si lo son, tanto como excesivas y aburridas. He leído varios libros que utilizan ese formato de cartas integradas en la trama de manera eficiente y eficaz. Le da un puntazo a la lectura. Pero aquí me pareció tan absurdo. Aquí no solo son largas, sino que también están excesivamente detalladas en cosas que no son necesarias. Lo que crea pues otra capa más de basura, perdón, otra razón por la que al libro y a sus personajes les falta vida, alma o algo que destacar. Increíbles. Y ese intento de romance me importó bien poco.

Deus ex maquina y coincidencias hay para dar y regalar como caramelos. En el libro suceden por doquier algunas coincidencias. Vale, algunas no pondría objeción. Pero como casi todo aquí es y sucede por que si, en otras se excede. Es que no he identificado ni una puñetera razón realista para que la mayoría de los personajes hagan las cosas que hacen.

Por no hablar del desenlace de algun personaje que me dejo con la boca abierta, vamos que ni la factura de la luz.

La historia es sobre vampiros, en este caso el ya usado, en exceso, Drácula. Y cómo un profesor, Rossi, realizó una investigación para descubrir más sobre un libro aparentemente vacío con la imagen de un dragón en su cubierta. Paul otro personaje, recibió el mismo tipo de libro, al igual que otros antes. Años más tarde la hija de Paul encuentra papeles y cartas en la estantería de su padre y consigue que empiece a contar su historia, por fin..

La mayoría de historias de vampiros se basan en los clásicos; seres oscuros, en el amparo de la noche, con colmillos, mucha sangre, con algo de romance calentorro. Seres sin alma que matan sin temor o piedad en callejones oscuros y que toman la forma de varias cosas. En este libro no hay nada de esto, ni nada nuevo o realizado con éxito.

Avanza, lentamente por no hablar de cuando llegan las cartas, de verdad que trauma me ha dejado las malditas cartas. Y avanza la trama, pasado y presente. Recopilando información sobre Tepes. Que a su vez este va jugando con los personajes y sus lectores, lo único que puedo decir que tiene un aceptable.

A veces daba la sensación de un gran trabajo de investigación, intrigante. Pero no fue por el buen camino ni bien llevado. Fueron demasiados lugares, épocas, se desvía todo por tangentes que me sobrepasaron como lector.

Un elenco de personajes en el libro que convergen en el último capítulo, unas putas 400 páginas demasiado tarde, lo hace para sostener y desarrollar el final, que ni de coña, ni de coña se sostiene. Después de tanta vuelta, páginas y de tanta carta estás esperando que el final sea algo maravilloso. Ni eso, ni eso, una decepción.. Terminé, cerré el libro y me quedé; lo que acabo de leer, ¿Como he sido capaz de terminarlo?...

Es una pena, creo que llevado de otra manera, cortando muchas otras y dándole algo de alma y sentido tenía todas las características de una gran historia. Pero nada se ejecutó e integró de manera correcta. Una pérdida de tiempo que no puedo recomendar.

I really enjoyed this book; it was a different kind of read. This book should certainly appeal to those who love research and history.