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The House of Journalists: A Novel
Welcome to the House of Journalists. Who are you and what is your story? These are the questions that confront newcomers to the House of Journalists, the internationally renowned refuge for writers in exile at the center of this haunting Orwellian novel. Home to a select group of fellows, the House is located in a fashionable London terrace. But just how stable is this hallowed institution? Julian Snowman, the obsessive founder and chair, sees the threat of dissolution at every turn. Perhaps this explains why petty rules and restrictions men live in one wing, women in the other; smoking is restricted to the central courtyard; tea is optional, but everyone attends. As the fellows strive to remake their lives, they are urged to share their tales. Epic and intimate by turns, these stories―of courage, tragedy, and shame―become a mesmerizing chorus of voices in search of home. Among the fellows are Mustapha, who yearns for the family he tore himself from when he resisted a coup; Agnes, a photojournalist implicated in a brutal civil war; Sonny, a slight figure with don't-mess-with-me hair, who describes a harrowing escape across continents; Edson, who perilously confides his story to his writing mentor; and Mr. Stan, who draws on the noxious cigarettes of his home island, despite having been tortured there. Only one man manages to guard his the mysterious new fellow AA, whose secrecy ratchets up Julian's paranoia. Julian suspects that AA is conspiring with a celebrated visiting writer to bring down the House. In fact, AA is planning something else entirely. A world as beguiling as it is disturbing, Tim Finch's The House of Journalists is a novel of heartbreak, humanity, and wit, and announces the arrival of a striking new voice in fiction.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2013
8 people are currently reading
285 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
March 9, 2014
It's extremely rare for me to give up on a book after just a couple chapters. It's probably happened fewer than 3 times in my life. I give books a chance. Sometimes a book gets off to a rough start, but then manages to gather itself together. This one may do that, but I'll never know.
I like the premise: A group of exiled journalists from various hot spots around the world gather at a house in London for refuge. But the writing was just too bizarre and disorienting for me. The author switches from one narrator to another without any warning. And then at a certain point, one narrator begins addressing you, the reader, directly. Am I now a character in the book? Evidently. An interesting device, but it came on unexpectedly, so it didn't really feel natural. Also, the writers have come from unnamed countries. There's obviously some reason for this (suffering is universal; the specific country is irrelevant?). I don't know. I got frustrated pretty quickly. The writer seemed to be experimenting with too many literary tactics and, a few dozen pages in, I tossed this one aside and decided to let him continue his experiments without me.
I like the premise: A group of exiled journalists from various hot spots around the world gather at a house in London for refuge. But the writing was just too bizarre and disorienting for me. The author switches from one narrator to another without any warning. And then at a certain point, one narrator begins addressing you, the reader, directly. Am I now a character in the book? Evidently. An interesting device, but it came on unexpectedly, so it didn't really feel natural. Also, the writers have come from unnamed countries. There's obviously some reason for this (suffering is universal; the specific country is irrelevant?). I don't know. I got frustrated pretty quickly. The writer seemed to be experimenting with too many literary tactics and, a few dozen pages in, I tossed this one aside and decided to let him continue his experiments without me.
February 6, 2016
This book ticks all my boxes. It's about asylum seekers arriving in the UK and the process they go through to be settled as refugees. Having worked with a charity supporting RAS, it was lovely to read some of the "this is how it is" and especially some of the true thoughts refugees have about settling in a strange culture with it's own idiosyncrasies when actually, despite the circumstances which led them to flee, they loved their own homes, families and culture. So many times refugees are grateful to be safe and just don't articulate to the people who have them shelter, any criticism.
It's also about writing and books. It has a slightly crazy female artist! All good.
However, it's also very much about power, politics, the abuse of power, paranoia, control and the descent into poor mental health.
I also really liked the way it was written, with the narrator standing outside the story and not being identified until the end. A clever twist.
So why not a 5*? I'm not sure. There was just something about why it didn't make it into my big league books. I enjoyed it and savoured it, but it didn't grab me. Like the narrator, I felt I was standing slightly outside the book and not fully engaged.
Thank you so much to my lovely daughter for picking out those books which do tick my boxes as presents!
It's also about writing and books. It has a slightly crazy female artist! All good.
However, it's also very much about power, politics, the abuse of power, paranoia, control and the descent into poor mental health.
I also really liked the way it was written, with the narrator standing outside the story and not being identified until the end. A clever twist.
So why not a 5*? I'm not sure. There was just something about why it didn't make it into my big league books. I enjoyed it and savoured it, but it didn't grab me. Like the narrator, I felt I was standing slightly outside the book and not fully engaged.
Thank you so much to my lovely daughter for picking out those books which do tick my boxes as presents!
May 25, 2014
I was very excited when I saw this book, what's better for a book lover than a novel about a house full of journalists? Well, it felt like too many cooks in the kitchen, the format and the way this story is told was to me and some others from what I've seen, unreadable.
The narration plays out like a circle of people passing around a hot stone, they flip it around and pass it quickly as neither one can hold on to it, that's how it felt, literally. Their struggles were introduced in the same fashion, I didn't even want to keep up with that circus, it was not for me, an ambitions project for sure, it just didn't work for me and from what I've seen many people feel the same way, I'm sure that some will enjoy it, it cant be bad for all but this didn't read or feel like a readable book, it just felt like a great project that fell and smashed on the floor and I was tying to put it back together with my eyes, too tedious and exhausting with little reward.
- Kasia S.
The narration plays out like a circle of people passing around a hot stone, they flip it around and pass it quickly as neither one can hold on to it, that's how it felt, literally. Their struggles were introduced in the same fashion, I didn't even want to keep up with that circus, it was not for me, an ambitions project for sure, it just didn't work for me and from what I've seen many people feel the same way, I'm sure that some will enjoy it, it cant be bad for all but this didn't read or feel like a readable book, it just felt like a great project that fell and smashed on the floor and I was tying to put it back together with my eyes, too tedious and exhausting with little reward.
- Kasia S.
January 4, 2022
What Finch does with the voice of the narrator and the dynamics of the characters is unique. The content is interesting; the author seemed to have experience in the space of refuge and asylum processes. Definitely worth a read. An author's read with plenty of depth to it.
September 7, 2021
Worth persevering and better to read in long sittings than snippets. First 50 pages establish narrative style, next 50 could have been cut, but then the mystery and satire kick in and take you to an apt ending.
May 13, 2017
Call me fickle, but I’m a sucker for good cover art. It’s for this reason, and only this reason, that I picked up The House of Journalists at a library sale knowing absolutely nothing about it save what could be gleaned from the dust jacket. I decided to avoid Goodreads and any other form of reviews until after I’d finished the book, so as to preserve a completely open mind. Unfortunately, this decision was based on the assumption that I would eventually finish the book—something that very nearly didn’t happen.
Somehow or another, I stumbled through to the end. I would have given up halfway through if I wasn’t stubbornly still clinging to the hope that everything would eventually become clear, that some tangible sense of purpose would emerge out of the fog of backstories and competing narrators and ambiguous leaps in time. Only afterwards did I discover that over half of the reviewers on Goodreads had given up more than halfway through the book.
The premise promises far more than Tim Finch is able to deliver. The House of Journalists is a sanctuary for exiled writers and journalists whose reporting has shaken the oppressive political systems of their respective countries. The story is told to you, the newest resident of the House, and the narration is passed from fellow to fellow like a hot potato as various residents clammer to their stories of oppression and revolution to you. The idea of a secret haven for exiled artists seeking refuge from political suffocation is ripe with possibilities, but unfortunately the novel’s lack of purpose, plot, or personality squanders them all.
This book is clearly—unanimously, even—the very definition of a waste of time, and as this was Mr. Finch’s first attempt at writing fiction, I will keep the explanation brief. The House of Journalists is the quintessential example of biting off more than one can chew. The narrative technique is artsy and experimental to the point of derailing the reader’s focus. The perspective changes without warning, and yet the tone of voice remains the same throughout, so that at times it becomes virtually impossible to tell who is supposed to be narrating. The prose is overworked and overeager, self-consciously literary, and often the descriptions try so hard to be wildly new that they end up being inscrutable.
Finch’s background in political journalism at the BBC, particularly as director of communications for the Refugee Council, gives the backstories a depth and realism that shines through the fog. Beyond these glimpses into the various residents’ past, though, there’s absolutely no plot to the story. There’s also no tension, no character development, no building of suspense, and, even, no satisfactory climax. All-in-all, there’s very little to encourage the reader to keep turning pages—and thus, understandably, many simply stopped. And having made it to the end, I can confirm that those readers who gave up two or three chapters in really didn’t miss out on anything, whatsoever.
Somehow or another, I stumbled through to the end. I would have given up halfway through if I wasn’t stubbornly still clinging to the hope that everything would eventually become clear, that some tangible sense of purpose would emerge out of the fog of backstories and competing narrators and ambiguous leaps in time. Only afterwards did I discover that over half of the reviewers on Goodreads had given up more than halfway through the book.
The premise promises far more than Tim Finch is able to deliver. The House of Journalists is a sanctuary for exiled writers and journalists whose reporting has shaken the oppressive political systems of their respective countries. The story is told to you, the newest resident of the House, and the narration is passed from fellow to fellow like a hot potato as various residents clammer to their stories of oppression and revolution to you. The idea of a secret haven for exiled artists seeking refuge from political suffocation is ripe with possibilities, but unfortunately the novel’s lack of purpose, plot, or personality squanders them all.
This book is clearly—unanimously, even—the very definition of a waste of time, and as this was Mr. Finch’s first attempt at writing fiction, I will keep the explanation brief. The House of Journalists is the quintessential example of biting off more than one can chew. The narrative technique is artsy and experimental to the point of derailing the reader’s focus. The perspective changes without warning, and yet the tone of voice remains the same throughout, so that at times it becomes virtually impossible to tell who is supposed to be narrating. The prose is overworked and overeager, self-consciously literary, and often the descriptions try so hard to be wildly new that they end up being inscrutable.
Finch’s background in political journalism at the BBC, particularly as director of communications for the Refugee Council, gives the backstories a depth and realism that shines through the fog. Beyond these glimpses into the various residents’ past, though, there’s absolutely no plot to the story. There’s also no tension, no character development, no building of suspense, and, even, no satisfactory climax. All-in-all, there’s very little to encourage the reader to keep turning pages—and thus, understandably, many simply stopped. And having made it to the end, I can confirm that those readers who gave up two or three chapters in really didn’t miss out on anything, whatsoever.
July 17, 2015
I really, really wanted to enjoy this book, and I certainly tried my hardest to finish it, despite so many reviews from people below saying they gave up part way through. But, in the end, I gave up part way through. About a third from the end.
Switching between the experiences and perspectives of a group of refugees in a house for writers, artists and journalists in London who have fled war in their own country, the subject should have been moving, interesting, shocking, and lots more besides. The writing is so pretentious and the structure too much of a 'concept' that is ends up being none of these things.
Some of the characters I wanted to know more about and many had stories I recognised from the news of recent years, but I felt the book never decided whether it wanted to be a realistic account of refugee experience or a purely fictionalised narrative. Because of this, the reader actually ends up feeling distanced from the people involved which is surely not the point of a book about human survival and suffering, identity, and immigration politics.
Switching between the experiences and perspectives of a group of refugees in a house for writers, artists and journalists in London who have fled war in their own country, the subject should have been moving, interesting, shocking, and lots more besides. The writing is so pretentious and the structure too much of a 'concept' that is ends up being none of these things.
Some of the characters I wanted to know more about and many had stories I recognised from the news of recent years, but I felt the book never decided whether it wanted to be a realistic account of refugee experience or a purely fictionalised narrative. Because of this, the reader actually ends up feeling distanced from the people involved which is surely not the point of a book about human survival and suffering, identity, and immigration politics.
July 4, 2016
when i picked up this book out of a pile of 20 or so by my bed, i thought i didn't fancy it, so it got left til i had nothing left to read. Did not enjoy it one bit, stupidly kept thinking it would improve. It didn't.
September 21, 2019
The best way I can describe this book is that it is written far above my head and beyond my imagination. The description of the book sounded fascinating - but the experience of reading it was frustrating and not fulfilling. There were moments where I thought I was within reach of getting what the characters were alluding to - but their voices were so similar and the detail so very vague - that the story kept slipping from my grasp.
Some turns of phrase caught me - “…and yet it is not a cold day: it is neither cold nor warm, though it is colder than it is warm, and it is warmer than the seasonal expectation. The season is winter, the month is February, the hour is three.” But then I would lose the thread of the character, the action, the hundreds of things that were happening behind the scenes. Things the author may have thought were clear enough to be tantalizing - but were such light outlines of allusions that I could not make sense of them.
“For Agnes’s poems are the sort of writing that Julian and the Committee value above all else. The House of Journalists is about such writing. It exists for it and because of it. Without the naked pain, the uncensored horror, the howls of injustice and fanfares to the human spirit, this place would lost its hold on public imagination.”
This story lost its hold on my imagination early on. I wanted to like it, I wanted to know what was behind the curtain - but after 19 days of reading - the book proved too much for me.
Some turns of phrase caught me - “…and yet it is not a cold day: it is neither cold nor warm, though it is colder than it is warm, and it is warmer than the seasonal expectation. The season is winter, the month is February, the hour is three.” But then I would lose the thread of the character, the action, the hundreds of things that were happening behind the scenes. Things the author may have thought were clear enough to be tantalizing - but were such light outlines of allusions that I could not make sense of them.
“For Agnes’s poems are the sort of writing that Julian and the Committee value above all else. The House of Journalists is about such writing. It exists for it and because of it. Without the naked pain, the uncensored horror, the howls of injustice and fanfares to the human spirit, this place would lost its hold on public imagination.”
This story lost its hold on my imagination early on. I wanted to like it, I wanted to know what was behind the curtain - but after 19 days of reading - the book proved too much for me.
July 26, 2017
I really wanted to like this book. I found it at the library and thought it was one of those hidden treasures. The premise was great - journalists from different countries living in exile for political reasons all found a temporary home in a building in London. The characters had rich back stories, though some with stories that read more like exile tropes than unique narratives. That aside, there was intrigue, a really interesting collective voice, and some mystery. However, the plot and payoff just didn't live up to its setup. I wish it had - there was a lot of great stuff here to work with.
January 8, 2018
Generic Book for those who're taking Generic Medications. We don't know much about the characters; it's all generic. As for the plot itself, doesn't state either. It leaves much to your imagination on "who's on first and what's on second" scenario. One of the most amusing reviews I've ever had to compose with a negative of T-minus 210.
June 12, 2025
Genuinely DNF this book. I usually take 100 pages to decide if I like a book, but after 64 pages I could not take it anymore. Clearly I am not meant to understand whatever flowery jargon the writer has employed to make me feel like an idiot. Huge pass on this book, it sat on my shelf for years and I decided to pick it up tonight and god was that a mistake. Save your time for real.
June 6, 2019
Well worth persevering. Great insight into, albeit fictional, refugee journeys. Enjoyed the laugh out loud comedy moment. Also enjoyed the mystery of it all and just the right amount of unanswered questions.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 24, 2023
DNF’d - sorry
March 18, 2024
Dry comedy about a house in London run by a charity supporting refugee journalists. Draws on author's own experience of the UK refugee sector!
June 23, 2024
An interesting and powerful read.
June 7, 2022
Very interesting writing style, really enjoyed the different perspectives of each character!
Loved the way the author tied all the loose ends together but left a bit of mystery with AA!
Did feel like some of the chapters were rambling, so lost interest and had to put the book down a few times.
Loved the way the author tied all the loose ends together but left a bit of mystery with AA!
Did feel like some of the chapters were rambling, so lost interest and had to put the book down a few times.
February 13, 2025
The second-person perspective was new to me and definitely threw me for a loop starting out. The histories, written and implied, of your fellow journalists, hit home - ironically, in the absence of their own homes.
This one ended abruptly, and without much closure.
This one ended abruptly, and without much closure.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 31, 2013
The House of Journalists (the place, not the novel) is a London haven for exiled writers. Led by Chairperson and celebrated author Julian Snowman, the House provides a place of rest, safety, and structure where its refugees are encouraged to write about their past struggles while waiting for their hearings in front of the asylum tribunal.
The House of Journalists (the novel, not the place) is a frustrating fluctuation between “Wow, can this guy write” and “Is this ever going to GO anywhere?”
Here’s the problem: you have to get through almost three-fourths of the book before it starts to pick up. The early chapters are expository, full of characters’ backgrounds and all the shifts in political regimes in their homelands. If this had been a library book, I would have returned it without finishing it. Guaranteed. At first I felt bad about that, and I wondered if maybe it was because the book is so about politics, and I’m not really a political person. But I didn’t dislike this book because it’s not my usual subject matter; Blood Meridian isn’t my usual subject matter, either, but Cormac McCarthy’s style and storytelling kept me engaged. I disliked this book because the asides seemed unnecessarily lengthy and caused the plot to move along too haltingly. (I also disliked this book because the plot was so hard to find, and not in a good, experimental sort of way.)
All that being said, the book does have its strengths. The first-person-plural narrative of the fellows is detached and eerie, sort of like Jeffrey Eugenides’s The Virgin Suicides or Aimee Bender’s “Appleless” (though not as compelling as those examples, it’s in the same vein). The Ted Crumb chapters are undoubtedly the best in the book; I’d love to see a Crumb novel one day. He has a sort of Bukowski feel to him that I just love. And Julian’s parts are fascinating in that train-wreck way because he is far, far off the deep end and it’s intriguing to watch his mind sort of crumple in on itself.
The most interesting aspect of this book by far is the questions that it raises. Who “owns” a story? Is it the person who had the experience or the listener? What is the purpose of storytelling? Is it financial gain? Personal growth? Entertainment? Art? But these are questions you can think about without struggling through this book, and that’s what I would recommend.
All in all: If you don’t mind slogging through all the political and historical asides, this novel can at times be an excellent study in voice. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.
Note: I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
The House of Journalists (the novel, not the place) is a frustrating fluctuation between “Wow, can this guy write” and “Is this ever going to GO anywhere?”
Here’s the problem: you have to get through almost three-fourths of the book before it starts to pick up. The early chapters are expository, full of characters’ backgrounds and all the shifts in political regimes in their homelands. If this had been a library book, I would have returned it without finishing it. Guaranteed. At first I felt bad about that, and I wondered if maybe it was because the book is so about politics, and I’m not really a political person. But I didn’t dislike this book because it’s not my usual subject matter; Blood Meridian isn’t my usual subject matter, either, but Cormac McCarthy’s style and storytelling kept me engaged. I disliked this book because the asides seemed unnecessarily lengthy and caused the plot to move along too haltingly. (I also disliked this book because the plot was so hard to find, and not in a good, experimental sort of way.)
All that being said, the book does have its strengths. The first-person-plural narrative of the fellows is detached and eerie, sort of like Jeffrey Eugenides’s The Virgin Suicides or Aimee Bender’s “Appleless” (though not as compelling as those examples, it’s in the same vein). The Ted Crumb chapters are undoubtedly the best in the book; I’d love to see a Crumb novel one day. He has a sort of Bukowski feel to him that I just love. And Julian’s parts are fascinating in that train-wreck way because he is far, far off the deep end and it’s intriguing to watch his mind sort of crumple in on itself.
The most interesting aspect of this book by far is the questions that it raises. Who “owns” a story? Is it the person who had the experience or the listener? What is the purpose of storytelling? Is it financial gain? Personal growth? Entertainment? Art? But these are questions you can think about without struggling through this book, and that’s what I would recommend.
All in all: If you don’t mind slogging through all the political and historical asides, this novel can at times be an excellent study in voice. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.
Note: I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
January 29, 2014
The House Of Journalists is a government sponsored organization in London set up to provide shelter for refugee journalists who had been forced out of their own countries by political actions of the government. Many of these men and women had lost their families, had been tortured and reviled, and escaped at great personal cost to a country where they hope to find refuge. The House is set up to provide that refuge and to give these journalists a place to freely express the stories that were prohibited in their own countries.
The stories are horrendous. There is Mr. Stan, a journalist who was born afflicted with a crippling disease. Almost the only part of his body unaffected were his beautiful hands and his active mind. When he is arrested and held by the government, his torturers ruined his hands, beating them with hammers until they are nothing more than stumps. Mustapha is grateful for the shelter, but he misses the family he has left behind so badly that he spends many days in his room, too depressed to interact with others. Agnes, a photojournalist, has escaped at great personal cost, and of course the atrocities visited on women differ from those meted out to men, including sexual abuse.
All are grateful to have found the House of Journalists, and its freedom. But are they really free here? Their days are structured by the rules and regulations of the House, and their stories are co-opted by those who would use them for their own purposes. There is Julian, who created the House and now rules it with an iron fist. There is Edward Crumb, a liberal novelist who sees the chance to use these stories for his next big book.
Tim Finch has written an interesting look at the refugee issue that explores this problem from all sides. The stories are compelling, but before a refugee is granted a permanent stay, the validity of that story must be decided on by a committee who grants extension, or deports the individual before them. The refugees are grateful, but also realize the freedoms they are giving up to be sheltered by others. This book is recommended for readers interested in the world and how political wars and governments shifts can impact the population of those living there, and what those of us lucky enough to avoid such titanic shifts owe to those caught up in this nightmare.
The stories are horrendous. There is Mr. Stan, a journalist who was born afflicted with a crippling disease. Almost the only part of his body unaffected were his beautiful hands and his active mind. When he is arrested and held by the government, his torturers ruined his hands, beating them with hammers until they are nothing more than stumps. Mustapha is grateful for the shelter, but he misses the family he has left behind so badly that he spends many days in his room, too depressed to interact with others. Agnes, a photojournalist, has escaped at great personal cost, and of course the atrocities visited on women differ from those meted out to men, including sexual abuse.
All are grateful to have found the House of Journalists, and its freedom. But are they really free here? Their days are structured by the rules and regulations of the House, and their stories are co-opted by those who would use them for their own purposes. There is Julian, who created the House and now rules it with an iron fist. There is Edward Crumb, a liberal novelist who sees the chance to use these stories for his next big book.
Tim Finch has written an interesting look at the refugee issue that explores this problem from all sides. The stories are compelling, but before a refugee is granted a permanent stay, the validity of that story must be decided on by a committee who grants extension, or deports the individual before them. The refugees are grateful, but also realize the freedoms they are giving up to be sheltered by others. This book is recommended for readers interested in the world and how political wars and governments shifts can impact the population of those living there, and what those of us lucky enough to avoid such titanic shifts owe to those caught up in this nightmare.
August 11, 2014
I wanted to love this book - it was about a topic that is very important to me, it was an interesting concept and it had moments that were brilliant. However, something in the style of writing prevented me from loving it. I instead found it quite difficult to read. The way the mini-chapters were set out made it difficult to read. The changing between who was speaking and not explaining who it was often confused me. Some of the characters such as Julian were not particularly likeable. However, there were parts of it I really liked - there were quotes in the novel which summarise precisely how I feel about the asylum system in the UK and the way we treat people. There were some brilliant passages, I guess for me it didn't quite all hang together properly, there were too many voices trying to tell the story perhaps. I think it really had the potential to be brilliant, but it didn't quite live up to that.
May 7, 2015
Very interesting book , esp in the context of what is happening these days with the refugees fleeing Africa on boats to Europe. Here we have the refuge, in the so called house of Journalists, where asylum seekers, who have fled their countries due to torture for their anti government writings or photographs, live in a gilded detention centre. They are free to come and go as they please, but all prefer to stay here as they know they have it so good. Compare this to the detention centres for the rest of the asylum seekers. They tell their harrowing stories. Interspersed with this is the struggle for power and fame by the director of the House,Julian. He is terrified he could be undermined by any of the 'guests' and his efforts at controlling everything that happens in the house eventually leads to its downfall.
May 14, 2013
This is not a book for everyone. It is almost le Carré-ian at times, in the best possible way. It moves at its own pace, often coolly and calmly and without much seeming “purpose” – but for those interested in politics, in oppression, in yet another angle of our increasingly globalized world… this is a golden debut. It reminded me of how much I loved my poli sci classes in college and how proud I am to maintain even the slightest interest in that part of our world. I look forward to whatever comes next from Mr. Finch – and I hope that this book garners some level of acclaim, if only to shed light on the very real and very thorny problems of helping those whose stories have been silenced.
Much more, I hope as considered as this book deserves, at RB: http://wp.me/pGVzJ-Ij
Much more, I hope as considered as this book deserves, at RB: http://wp.me/pGVzJ-Ij
June 10, 2014
I'm giving The House of Journalists 3 stars because it might just be me and not the writing. This book was "not my cup of tea": cliché and pun intended. The premise of the story is great, a houseful of refuge journalists living together in London each with a sad, terrifying story of how their governments arrested, tortured and basically ruined their lives. Each story could have been taken out of todays political climate. I got half way through the book and I kept loosing the thread of who was talking and who the narrator meant to be talking to and about. I want to care more about each character and yet somehow I feel like I'm missing something. Oh well, giving up for now.
May 15, 2014
I liked the premise of the book, but I nearly didn't continue reading it past the first couple of chapters. I decided to stick with it, though, figuring that it was just me, not the book that was the problem. Completing the reading too me forever. You're never quite sure who the narrator is, whether what is being said is tongue in cheek or serious, exactly what the point of view the author has regarding political refugees seeking asylum, the British government's position on asylum, etc. Not a book I'd recommend, although again, maybe it's just my problem rather than the writer's.
August 5, 2016
Intrigued by a premise that never delivers. Potentially shattering -- and engaging -- detail lost in the mists of a convoluted voice. Who is narrating and when? The author delivers on the development of some characters and motivations, but in such an inconsistent way it's necessary to flip backward in the book to connect the names with details. And when some characters just disappear (not as part of the plot line - they are just forgotten), it's annoying. The book loses its fragile grip on clarity. Thumbs down disappointing read.
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October 24, 2014I too had to give up on this book. I got about a third of the way through and found myself confused beyond belief about who was speaking at any one time, whether aa was a character in the story or me, and where the story was going. There seemed no inter-character relationships and by the 120th page the plot of the book still hadn't materialised. The blurb and the premise it set out was so enticing but for me, the text was either taking far too long to deliver, if indeed it ever would.
March 2, 2015
This book enters in a very rare category: a book I didn't manage to finish. The central idea is quite interesting and so are the issues raised, but sadly it is written by somebody who does the literary equivalent of loving the sound of his own voice. It is verbose, pretentious and completely devoid of humour. A shame as it could have been a good book.
October 24, 2013
Midway between paragraphs switches narrator, of which there were a copious amount. Got to the end by skipping passages. Adom, who to add confusion to a mire of confusion is an unreliable narrator. Nope. Best thing was the characters description of their homelands.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews