I think The Invisible Bridge is a book worth reading, but not a book without flaws. I’m not even exactly sure how to characterize my reaction. This could be one of those books that gets better as it percolates.

First, I read a lot about WWII, especially regarding the European theater, both fiction and non-fiction. Same for the holocaust itself. Even so, this book reminded me of things that are often obscure, and invoked some things that I didn’t know or had forgotten. That alone made it worthwhile for me. The story is told from a Hungarian point of view, which is far from the norm and that slant was interesting.

Before I bought the book, I read a review that said Orringer had written a novel that was European in approach, therefore bordering on brilliant, rather than American. I’m not sure I know, or if the reviewer knows, what an American novel is, but the implication was that this book is more in depth and fleshed out than most ‘American’ books. In my experience, length and depth in a novel occur when there is intent for them to, even among American authors. When authors are novel-mills, under contract for a book per year, not so much. Same for American readers – audiences exist for both “beach reads” and more serious (literature) books. So, while that critique might be a bit haughty (I think it came from a foreign newspaper), it does describe the book in a way that tells something about what it will be like to read.

In the same vein, a number of reviewers compared it to Dr. Zhivago. Those comparisons occurred to me also. The books are similar. Grammatically (as opposed to 'literarily') the books differ because they were written a close to a century apart and because they were written in different languages. 'Literarily', they certainly reflect the difference in perspective you expect when authors come from two different centuries.

The narrative is quite readable. The prose isn’t so complicated as to be hard to follow, but there is plenty of character development and extra description. It is verbiage that isn’t necessary for a book you would read just for entertainment, but is pleasant if your plan is to spend more than an afternoon with a book. I found it easy to put down, but not in the sense I didn’t want to read it. It was a pleasure to know that so many pages were left I couldn’t finish it in one day, and wasn’t compelled to try, and always enjoyed picking it up again. Sometimes I could read for hours, and sometimes just a short time.

At first, the story was only slightly compelling for me. I found it very different from many holocaust books, both fiction and non-fiction, and it wasn’t until the final pages that I realized why. It was much less intense to read than many, but there was just something that seemed to be right under the surface that was waiting, waiting… When I realized the book was inspired by the author’s own grandparents it was easier to understand. So, even though the characters made all the same mistakes that were made by many people (Jews in particular) at that time, instead of the intensity of the tragedy, it was mitigated and muted by her personal knowledge of the people. That closeness to the characters compelled her to insert some emotional distance when she described the horrors.

It also has a ‘happier’ ending than many holocaust books. By definition, since the book is inspired by the author’s grandparents, you know at least some of the main characters survived.

And, even though I referred to the holocaust a number of times, the book is much more than just one more holocaust novel. Though it’s fiction, it really is a chronology of some of its characters so there’s also something of a story aspect that is very prevalent.

This is a book that is interesting on a number of levels. It isn’t particularly scholarly, nor is it intended to be. It isn’t particularly complete in the historical sense either. It isn’t intended to be. There are many things it isn’t – a novel, a children’s book, a short story. In fact, as a fable, I wasn’t even sure, initially, it did that very well. But, I changed my mind.

As a fable, this little book isn’t compelled to be thorough or complete. It needs only to take the moral, and the characters central to it, and make the point. So of course it doesn’t accurately name Auschwitz or the Fuehrer. It isn’t supposed to. And, so what if it doesn’t deal with the Nazi social hierarchy completely, excluding the other families and children who were actually there. It isn’t supposed to.

In the same sense, Bruno isn’t supposed to be an inquisitive, bright nine year old child – the moral to the story wouldn’t be as poignant if he was. In fact, the author employs the fable ingeniously in having Bruno, who as a nine year old could be more inquisitive and even worldly, remain completely naïve. If that is too much a leap for an average reader who doesn’t understand fable, then there is also an option to regard Bruno as impaired. Auschwitz could be Out-With, and the Fuehrer, the Fury, due to a speech impediment (he insists he is saying the same thing as his father and his sister at the various times they correct him) or another learning disability.

In a fable about Nazism generally, and Auschwitz specifically, that focuses on the Nazi instead of the Jew, there is really no redemption, either. In the end everyone is undone – Bruno, Schmuel, the Commandant, the wife, the perfect young Nazi Lieutenant, and the sister – and it’s interesting to see just how it happens.

The reader should be sure to finish, or begin, with the author’s note. There might be a tendency to discount this book otherwise.

I'm still not exactly completely certain what I think about this book, but I liked it. And, I gave it a 4 instead of a 3 because I got the feeling the author was writing it for the story and the history rather than the book club market. That doesn't mean it isn't a good book for a group to read - it is. It just means it's more than merely a book club selection.

My feelings of disappointment are because we are given such a short snapshot of Jane Clark's life. There could be a good deal more and it would likely be interesting. She's an interesting character, though, by current standards, a bit underdeveloped.

On the other hand, there's quite a lot to like about the book. The title itself - Ms. Jane Clark has a personal rebellion, however temporary, that is set in the beginnings of a political rebellion into which she is drawn and sees 'up close and personal'. Glimpses of private actions of men who became founding fathers show how discontent becomes rebellion that becomes war that leads to the creation of a new country.

The book is well written and enjoyable, if not spellbinding, and worth one's time.

The humor seems effortless, but that's just not possible - it's too universal. The voice with which Rhoda Janzen writes could belong to anyone, not only a Mennonite. I kept 'hearing' Jews, Italians, southerners, and any number of other groups who have intact cultural identities. It was, at times, uncanny, and it was charming.

This book has been described as a 'coming of age tale,' but that isn't really the way I saw it. Coming of age more typically refers to a first step that encompasses some brilliant and newly revealed truth. This book was something more than that - it was more like 'coming to terms with coming of age.'

The humor was dead on - just self-deprecating enough and with wry, witty observations about the supporting characters as well as the author. And, the characters were just about perfect, too. At some point most of us realize, and come to appreciate, the relative wisdom of our parents, and the author brings this out brilliantly. She moves her mother from a role in her father's shadow to a quiet, but central and wise figure in the family. Her father morphs from an authoritarian figure to a completely human one. The same growth can be seem in the other characters that live in this book. Even the repeated references to the ex-husband and Gay.com are spot on.

Read it to enjoy something and just take it easy for a minute.

Interesting plot. Great characters. Wonderful dialogue.

It doesn't get much better if you enjoy fast-paced mystery/suspense novels.

Noah Boyd has masterfully created one of the best ones I've read in awhile. He reminds me of the earlier James Patterson or Stuart Woods - in the days before those authors began using fewer words, wider margins, and bigger fonts and lines spaces and really crafted their stories and characters.

This book is a fairy tale and a delight.

Meet Lady Saren, and her maid Dashti, who at the beginning of the book, are just meeting each other. Saren is about to be banished for failing to bend to the will of her father, her maids have fled in fear, and Dashti, almost, but not quite, knowing better, is about to throw in her lot with Saren.

This book is about rewarding good behavior and right choices and has the requisite happy ending that fairy tales are supposed to. But, instead of it being an irritant, most readers will rejoice at the ending - even readers who prefer less stereotypical happy endings.

Both of the girls face evil and hardship and choices, and both mature a bit through the book. It's pleasant and easy and something we can all use a bit of once in a while.

It took a lot of pages before I began to enjoy this book, but, in the end, it was thought provoking and ended much better than I initially thought it could.
The characters: Mother, Leigh, a teacher. Father, Gary, college professor. Teenage daughter, Kara. Preteen son, Justin. Daughter's friend, Willow. Miscellaneous friends and colleagues of parents.
Mother/daughter and, to a lesser extent, father/son relationships are what this book is about. Neither is explored fully, but are explored around a snapshot in time.
Kara and her friend Willow are riding in Kara's car after school one day, when Kara hits and kills another teenager. The ensuing story is about what you would expect. The important thing is how the characters interact.
Predictably, the mother and daughter, who already have problems, experience some serious alienation. Less predictably, but as a predictable mirror image, the father really can't relate to his son, who isn't very tough or 'manly'. As Gary protects and guides Kara through the aftermath of the accident, his distance from Justin grows, as does Kara's isolation from Leigh, and Leigh's and Gary's from each other. Leigh has expressed concern for the victim, who was a former student, and her mother, and feels Kara needs to take responsibility for her actions, though she isn't sure exactly what that means. Gary is simply protective and considers little else.
Kara's journey through the aftermath of the accident, and how she determines her responsibility and resolves it, is a step up from the introductory chapters of the book. And Leigh, who is not particularly lovable, especially early in the book, becomes much more interesting. Even Gary learns a bit about relating to Justin.
It ends better than it begins. Keep reading.

This is a book that explores a world of different things skillfully and enjoyably. It's also a welcome change from the plethora of books that seem to written so copies can be sold to book club members. It actually has some substance.
The setting is English society in transition following WWI. It is altogether possible that England's experiences at the crossroads of the 19th and 20th centuries reflect more intensely and completely changes that western societies underwent. They were in WWI longer than the US. They fought away from home while the French defended their homeland. Following the war, a greater number of the citizenry were inspired to seek change because of what they saw abroad or new opportunities they accrued while so many young men were away from home. Many of the characters are influenced by the liberalism created as a result of the tremendous changes. All this completes the backdrop for the story and the characters.
The characters who inhabit the setting experience many of the same metamorphoses. The story follows generations of a family, their servants, and their friends. It is centered around the family home and land, which has enough history to be another character in the novel. Most of the cast weighs duty against opportunity or responsibility against desire. Some make the selfless choice, some are more self-indulgent. There is remarkable irony in their interactions and almost nothing is "sugarcoated in happy ending", nonetheless the end is very satisfying.
The lord and lady have two sons, who have families. One loses a family, one has two daughters with whom he soldiers on after losing a son in the war. A butler and housekeeper 'parent' the other servants. Among them are a maid and manservant with similar backgrounds who move through the same seas of change as the family. And so on, and so on...
This is an enjoyable book that will be especially pleasing to those who love history, a bit of mystery, the English, and the classic English novel, among others.

This book is wonderful to read for many reasons. The narrative flows brilliantly, like Diamant's usually does. The picture of bonding by strangers who have much to overcome is compelling. It's a lovely story though it is set against an ugly backdrop.
The title of the book, like the title of this review, evokes a divergence from recent, and currently traditional, depictions of the holocaust toward more gentle introductions to that horrible episode in history. It focuses on the beginning of something and points toward a better time to come.
While I might personally hope for something more developed in the way of characters and story, I believe this book, with a moderate style similar to the one found in "The Book Thief", might bring more readers to the genre than a story heavier on the truth of the horror of the holocaust and the aftermath might bring.
There was definitely opportunity to develop the characters - from whence they came especially, but also to where they went. There was also the opportunity to delve more fully into the early immigration of European Jews to Palestine and the difficulties they faced from Arabs and British alike, but that doesn't really seem to be what this book is about.
I believe the book is about healing, and a new beginning, and a focus on the future, set a very transitional and temporary present. The four main characters, as well as some of those on the periphery, begin to deal with and leave behind the past, form tenuous and transitory relationships in the present, then go on to a new life with a new permanence. We don't see very much of the past or the future in this offering - it is merely implied so, therefore, is known only by the reader through his independent knowledge. I don't necessarily think that diminishes it. I think it makes the book palatable to a wider audience. I HOPE it doesn't start a trend of diluting or redefining the holocaust, which needs to be remembered and never repeated.

It's been a long time since I've read a book that develops both characters (all of them) and plot so well. There aren't any stereotypes in the former - these are fully fleshed individuals. And the plot tackles topics often given short shrift and actually makes you want to see where the author is going to take them.

Can't say enough about the plot twists, the characters, or the denouement and ending. Bravo!

Disappointing doesn't begin to describe how trite this book is. Or how the main characters shouldn't be the main characters. Or how disrespectful the author is to the reader.

Gosh, does one woman really betray another over a man? Wouldn't Dona Carlota be a more interesting protagonist? Can't even the basic facts be verified?

I don't know why Bird has the credential she has. This is a waste of time.

An absolutely delightful book. The cover photo tells it all - it's wonderfully light and airy, simple and, ultimately, joyful. I read it at the perfect time - the beginning of summer.
One feud - oooh, how delicious to hate collectively. Two families, united, each against the other. Three generations - just how long is thing going to last, anyway? Haven't these people read the Bard? Don't they know how fatal this could be? Isn't there more at stake than roses?

As it turns out, there is. As it turns out, one of the generations wises up. And, as it turns out, this isn't classical literature, but it's a lovely story about a couple of really nice people.

The book is 500+ pages so there's plenty to say and a lot of story lines, characters and techniques upon which to comment. It can't all be done here.

While the book is peopled with a large enough cast of characters, the topic du jour is small town America. If you grew up in one, it's likely you'll find people you know within the pages. You'll also find places you know there. And, you'll find attitudes there, too. In fact, you'll finish the book and feel like it was a pretty good book, and you might even wax a bit nostalgic. But when you really start to think about it, you'll also probably experience a bit of depression. Is small town America, from whence came (we believe), our values, really so lacking in substance? Under the veneer, is the underpinning so weak? You'll have to decide that for yourself.

There are the people good and bad, the hangout, the values and the decline, all here, all ready to be judged and valued. It's a book interesting to continue to think about after you've finished it. Especially if you know small town America.

The main characters are several mirrored generations. The parents of the first generation wife (Tessa) aren't thrilled with the husband (Lou). And, did she, however briefly, think the brother-in-law more exciting and suited to her temperament? The father of the second generation (Mr. Berg), wasn't thrilled with the husband (also Lou). Did he, and his daughter as well, think the best friend more exciting and suited to her temperament? In the third generation, the wife certainly will explore her options. Right?

And, of course the book is long enough to give almost every rogue at least one redeeming quality, to complicate and flesh out the characters more than so many books do now.

Move on to the hangout, the values, and the decline of the town. All figure prominently in the pages, provoke thought, and make the book better fodder than many of the books that line shelves in libraries and bookstores.

It drags in places, but it comes together at the end.

It's a relatively small book, appealing and lackluster simultaneously.

You will never forget the mechanics of how the OED was created, you will ruminate endlessly regarding the innovations of a madman, and you will be glad you read the book.

You will not gravitate to the edge or your seat or stay awake nights reading it. But, you will not forget it.

I didn't laugh out loud, the way I usually do with Landvik's books, but I had a really good time reading it anyway.

The View from Mount Joy contains the same characters found in her other books - the real people who populate cities and towns everywhere. And it is about the same real stories that those people live every day in the cities and towns everywhere.

Simple truth, about the joy and angst of living, that everyone faces every day, and how, if you're just a little bit lucky, one of your life-long friends is a really wonderful person.

This book isn't for everyone, but its premise is. It is a tale of redemption - of why, and how, people are redeemed. In modern time there isn't a better setting than Nazi Germany.

It is mostly for young people, as it is a gentle, almost tender, insertion into the horror that was Nazism and the second world war. Most of the German characters are treated kindly, with full focus on their humaness. It is a measured introduction to the harshness of the stark history of the time for those who are not yet students of it, but is also a balm for those who are steeped in its facts, and who may have forgotten that the predominant stereotype of any group or era reflects only a majority - not an entirety.

Books tie her to almost every character as she moves through her days, and Liesel, the central character, is redeemed many times, by her relationship to the books and the other characters. In life, there is her delivery to responsible step-parents, her relationship to the mayor's wife, Rudy's guidance and companionship through childhood and puberty; in destruction there is her memory of her parents, her acknowledgment of Rudy, her discovery by the LSE, her adoption by the mayor's wife, and even a reunion with Max. In death, she is served well by her history, and by Death.

Almost every other character is an additional example of redemption: Mama, Mrs. Holtzapfel, Max, in the basement, and after the war, Papa, and Ilsa Hermann, who got back her own life helping Liesel.

The book says much more than the obvious, and can be enjoyed by a wide audience, but it is definitely a book best for the audience for whom it was written - the young.

One of Picoult's best. She set aside her tendency to hurry through a book, failing to complete characters as though she has a word quota and doesn't want to use too many in one place, and did a much more thorough job with this one. You hate and love almost everyone before it's over. The younger sister is portrayed as a bit too sophiscated and understanding for an adolescent that has been through what she has, and pity the poor child whose mother is as single-minded as this one, but, overall, a very good effort about a topic that won't go away soon.

One woman's journey. And, maybe she should have had a travel guide!

This woman was remarkably mature and successful professionally, and amazingly adolescent emotionally. She couldn't reconcile success with a family commitment, but took forever to admit it. Then, after wobbling through a divorce, she had a typical rebound romance before deciding to start all over and take on life from a completely different angle.

Good writing, settings and dialogue save the book, but the main character is spoiled and self-serving to the end. It's easier to like to book than the protagonist. Not exactly sorry to have read it but not sure why I feel that way. Loved the cowboy!

Completely unimpressed with some of the first Picoult I read, I always expect a similar reaction and have begun to be surprised by her offerings.

Reading the early chapters, I expected to write that the family relationships were poorly developed, with the mother character being virtually disregarded. But I have to say the book developed well, and naturally, and the correlation to Dante's Inferno was drawn better than I expected.

The digression, and it was a digression, to compare the novel to the classic was probably necessary for those who have not studied classics. The discussion of the nine circles of hell, and whether there are new sins which require new circles is a common topic, as is the idea of a tenth circle. But, it could have been worse.

The insertion of the comic genre was another distraction, especially if one stops in the course of reading to look for the hidden letters. (Either do it before reading, or after, if you look). If she wanted to discuss Demosthenes, it could as easily been done during the 'circles' commentary.

We were led down a (too) brief road with Jason, learning to like him just a little, and left without much resolution to his character. Is he a typical teen, without malice? Was he intentionally redeemed? Perhaps Picoult could not make up her own mind, thus left it to the reader. This always irritates me, though, and detracts.

So, why begin this by saying I was pleasantly surprised, and the book was well-developed? In spite of everything wrong with it, and there is more than I list here, I finished it with the definite feeling I had not wasted my time, and had spent a pleasant two days getting to know some pretty interesting folks. Especially Daniel's dad..... talk about no character development.

The popularity of book and reading groups has given rise to a new "literary" genre: I call it "Book Club". Far too many new novels seem to be pedantically written, in order that they may be discussed by groups. This book is one of those.

The topic, which is actually very compelling, should have been the framework for an interesting book, but the characters were shallow, and the resolution sketchy. The setting (early 1960s) is not explored. Caroline is sketched as heroic, yet she essentially stole another woman's child. David was a man who's character was not strong enough to accept a disabled child, yet was also not strong enough to live with his choice.

No one ever "came to grips" with what was done. Each character seemed only an individual, not a part of the larger family group. But, it never felt like that was what the author intended. If it had been, it might have been an accurate representation of what life was for those people - how the action of the father affected them all. But the author never seemed to choose: Were the characters all individuals because of the father's choice, or were they a family unit, dysfunctional because of the father's choice?

The book might deserve reading, but I grieve that it isn't all it could have been.