The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox

Booklover and scholar, Edward Glyver, starts his story with murder and delusions of grandeur. To his own mind, Edward Glyver should have been a great man, but that future was stolen from him by his arch-nemesis Phoebus Rainsford Daunt. Now nothing will deter him from seeking out vengeance against the man who ruined his life.

It was okay. It started great, don't get me wrong. The plot, the long winded descriptions, the well timed confrontations or lack there-of... If you like Victorian storytelling this started in brilliant style, like a firecracker set loose in a library.

But by the time I hit page 500 or so, I began flipping forward to see how much longer I had to actually read. I began having to psych myself up to make myself keep going. Instead of being pulled along, I started clawing at the pages, looking for a way out. And when I finally hit the last page, I thought "Thank you God! It’s over!"

The problem isn’t that the book was slow. Most of the Victorian-styled or era books I've read have been slow. There is supposed to be a bit of poetry and patience and understanding. It is not that the book was long. I love a good long read... A story that I can really climb inside of. It was the combination of long and slow. There came a point in time, when Edward Glyver stopped appealing to me and I just wanted it over. I hate to make corrections to anyone's hard work, but the reality is if this plot-line had taken place in the modern world, or a futuristic one, the story probably would have flowed more and ebbed less.

Rating 2/5

Review originally posted:

Apr 30, 12