I have finished reading Carlos Ruiz Zafón's
The Angel's Game. I haven't finished thinking about it, nor have I been able to conclude firmly what exactly I think about it.
The Angel's Game is a very curious book, one well worth reading. It takes the reader to early 20th century Barcelona and paints a vivid picture of its strange and glorious architecture, its appalling industrial squalor peopled by magnates and their creatures, workers and paupers, writers and would-be writers, and roaming squads of pistoleros dispensing justice or revenge for hire. At our present remove in time it is perhaps difficult for us to imagine such a world, one of catastrophic world wars, brutal civil wars in what we now consider to be civilized countries, great epidemics and all the attendant economic crises. Yet Ruiz Zafón slips his narrative into this era of pain and chaos and makes it fit. That narrative siezes hold of its readers, drawing us into the madness.
Sometimes when I read to a certain point in a story I have the ending figured out, or think that I do. This novel kept me guessing; guessing the veracity and sanity of the narrator. Wondering whether he was relating the facts objectively or living out a dark fantasy in the furthest reaches of a diseased mind.
The end was fulfilling, if indeed it can ever be said to end at all, for
The Angel's Game is the story of past and future history.
I will read this book again in a year or so. Like its sequel,
The Shadow of the Wind, it has a permanent place on my bookshelf. Now I have to get my hands on a copy of
The Prince of Mist.
Thank you for pointing me toward these novels.