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The Winter Station Lib/E
An aristocratic Russian doctor races to contain a deadly plague in an outpost city in Manchuria-before it spreads to the rest of the world. 1910: People are mysteriously dying at an alarming rate in the Russian-ruled city of Kharbin, a major railway outpost in northern China. Strangely, some of the dead bodies vanish before they can be identified. During a dangerously cold winter in a city gripped by fear, the Baron, a wealthy Russian aristocrat and the city's medical commissioner, is determined to stop this mysterious plague. Battling local customs, an occupying army, and a brutal epidemic with no name, the Baron is torn between duty and compassion, between Western medical science and respect for Chinese tradition. His allies include a French doctor, a black marketeer, and a charismatic Chinese dwarf. His greatest refuge is the intimacy he shares with his young Chinese wife-but she has secrets of her own. Based on a true story that has been lost to history, set during the last days of imperial Russia, The Winter Station is a richly textured and brilliant novel about mortality, fear, and love.
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First published January 30, 2018
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About the author
Jody Shields
8 books51 followersJody Shields is the former design editor of the New York Times Magazine and a former editor at Vogue, House and Garden, and Details. She has written several screenplays and has a master's degree in art. Her prints are in various collections, including the Museum of Modern Art. She lives in New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 168 reviews
January 19, 2018
Kharbin, established in 1898, was built in the Manchurian wilderness by order of the czar. Kharbin was divided into four unequal districts by the Russian occupiers. General Dmitry Khorvat, the administrator, lived in Novy Gorod, the district housing rich Russians. Fuchiatien, a Chinese shantytown, was built on lowlands near the Sungari River. Baron von Budberg, hailing from St. Petersburg, was a Russian diplomat's son. He lived in Fuchiatien with his Manchu wife. Of the remaining two districts, one was the commercial district, the other billeted soldiers. Kharbin boasted a train station. Central Station was a major railway outpost in Northern China.
Baron no longer embraced St. Petersburg as his home. Arriving in Kharbin in 1904, he was appointed by General Khorvat as chief medical examiner. He could be terminated, at will, by Khorvat. He had to walk a fine line although his translation abilities and knowledge of Chinese increased his importance to General Khorvat.
The frigidly cold, snowy Manchurian winter of 1910-11 was a deadly one. Baron's Russian servant, Andreev, was a black marketeer. He could locate anything for a fee. Andreev overheard and informed Baron that two bodies were discovered frozen in the snow outside Kharbin's Central Station. Although Baron worked at the Russian Hospital two blocks from where the bodies were found, he was not consulted or asked to sign death certificates. No bodies were brought to the hospital. Since the deceased were Chinese, the deaths were not considered to be relevant. When Russian merchant Dmitry Vasilevich returned by train from Mukden and disembarked at Kharbin, his death was imminent. He was quickly buried. This was not the case with bodies left in the snow. Khorvat felt that the bodies would soon be forgotten. Baron, however, wanted to examine the dead bodies to determine cause of death. Bodies kept disappearing. Dr. Wu, director of Imperial Medical College arrived in Kharbin to provide assistance. Medical opinions and cultural differences collided. What was this illness and what did infected people have in common?
"The Winter Station" by Jody Shields is a work of historical fiction based upon the outbreak of plague during the 1910-11 Manchurian winter. Different factions did not share the same sanitary standards. Rumor and superstition prevailed as well. Author Shields depicts the clash of cultures and traditions creating roadblocks to discovery and treatment of the infected.
Thank you Little, Brown and Company and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "The Winter Station".
Baron no longer embraced St. Petersburg as his home. Arriving in Kharbin in 1904, he was appointed by General Khorvat as chief medical examiner. He could be terminated, at will, by Khorvat. He had to walk a fine line although his translation abilities and knowledge of Chinese increased his importance to General Khorvat.
The frigidly cold, snowy Manchurian winter of 1910-11 was a deadly one. Baron's Russian servant, Andreev, was a black marketeer. He could locate anything for a fee. Andreev overheard and informed Baron that two bodies were discovered frozen in the snow outside Kharbin's Central Station. Although Baron worked at the Russian Hospital two blocks from where the bodies were found, he was not consulted or asked to sign death certificates. No bodies were brought to the hospital. Since the deceased were Chinese, the deaths were not considered to be relevant. When Russian merchant Dmitry Vasilevich returned by train from Mukden and disembarked at Kharbin, his death was imminent. He was quickly buried. This was not the case with bodies left in the snow. Khorvat felt that the bodies would soon be forgotten. Baron, however, wanted to examine the dead bodies to determine cause of death. Bodies kept disappearing. Dr. Wu, director of Imperial Medical College arrived in Kharbin to provide assistance. Medical opinions and cultural differences collided. What was this illness and what did infected people have in common?
"The Winter Station" by Jody Shields is a work of historical fiction based upon the outbreak of plague during the 1910-11 Manchurian winter. Different factions did not share the same sanitary standards. Rumor and superstition prevailed as well. Author Shields depicts the clash of cultures and traditions creating roadblocks to discovery and treatment of the infected.
Thank you Little, Brown and Company and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "The Winter Station".
April 8, 2018
I think Jody Shields' interests & strengths as a writer are in creating an artistic, atmospheric experience. If you're looking for a purely plot-driven story, her work is not going to satisfy you.
I love the way she writes & explores intersections: meetings, clashings, & meldings of cultures, times, beliefs. As in The Fig Eater (a book I loved), Shields creates an icy winter setting that will make you shiver as you explore a place & people on the cusp between old ways & new ones; this time, the setting is 1910 in Kharbin, a Russian-administered town set in Manchurian China. People are mysteriously dying & the bodies are disappearing (who is taking them? why?). Yet this book is not a mystery or a thriller, it's a fictional look at historic events from the time (plague hitting the city, as well as how medical personnel responded, including Dr. Wu who was sent by the Chinese government). The meetings, clashings, & meldings encompass the different groups (Russians, Chinese, Japanese on the sidelines) having to live & work together, different traditions (traditional Eastern medicine vs. "newer" Western-style medicine), & reliance on faith (religion, superstition, science) during a crisis, just to name a few.
Shields also delves into exploring some Chinese traditions (calligraphy, tea ceremonies) as seen through the eyes of a Russian doctor who is interested in learning about Chinese culture. It's as if you can feel the serenity of these pursuits, an escape from the horrible reality decimating the city & its inhabitants. The serene breaks are needed because the plague descriptions are not for the weak of heart; as a reader, you need the break just as the characters do.
Read it not for plot or because it seems like it might be a mystery or thriller; read it instead for the fantastically-written descriptions of a place & people under siege.
I love the way she writes & explores intersections: meetings, clashings, & meldings of cultures, times, beliefs. As in The Fig Eater (a book I loved), Shields creates an icy winter setting that will make you shiver as you explore a place & people on the cusp between old ways & new ones; this time, the setting is 1910 in Kharbin, a Russian-administered town set in Manchurian China. People are mysteriously dying & the bodies are disappearing (who is taking them? why?). Yet this book is not a mystery or a thriller, it's a fictional look at historic events from the time (plague hitting the city, as well as how medical personnel responded, including Dr. Wu who was sent by the Chinese government). The meetings, clashings, & meldings encompass the different groups (Russians, Chinese, Japanese on the sidelines) having to live & work together, different traditions (traditional Eastern medicine vs. "newer" Western-style medicine), & reliance on faith (religion, superstition, science) during a crisis, just to name a few.
Shields also delves into exploring some Chinese traditions (calligraphy, tea ceremonies) as seen through the eyes of a Russian doctor who is interested in learning about Chinese culture. It's as if you can feel the serenity of these pursuits, an escape from the horrible reality decimating the city & its inhabitants. The serene breaks are needed because the plague descriptions are not for the weak of heart; as a reader, you need the break just as the characters do.
Read it not for plot or because it seems like it might be a mystery or thriller; read it instead for the fantastically-written descriptions of a place & people under siege.
February 12, 2018
I made it through about 30% of this book before abandoning it. The book just never drew me in, it was all tell and no show. Nothing had happened by that point other than a lot of conversation and calligraphy. I received a free copy of this book from the publisher.
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December 1, 2017I'm DNFing this one on page 144. I tried to read as far as I could, but this book is just not going anywhere. For a book about a plague, it's incredibly dull.
Things that are good:
I didn't hate the protagonist; in fact, I enjoyed his humor and way of interacting with all the different people he encountered. I liked Chang, the dwarf, a lot. He was theatrical and I liked the dramatic way that he explained the things that happened to him.
The author brought the setting to life in a wondrous way. Isolated, freezing, snowy, and in the middle of a Russian-Chinese culture clash, it's only natural that the Baron would be caught in the middle, trying to navigate between two different communities trying to manage the spread of a plague. But that's where the good ends.
Things that aren't so good:
The storytelling, because what story? Nothing happens in this book. It opens in a sort of mysterious way, with two bodies being found in the snow alongside some train tracks, but then it turns to a whole lot of dialogue and bureaucratic conversations that never lead anywhere or seem to matter. I'm not sure what this book wants to be. Maybe a mystery, but then why is it so bland? Sure, it's about the spread of a plague and it's based on a true story, but you can find this information on a Wikipedia page. Hint: I did. I went looking. And it's written in a much less long-winded way and, dare I say, easier to understand way than this book.
There's also a lack of clarity often in the writing. The author will mention people that I didn't even know were in the room. For example, there's a banquet at one point about halfway through the book, and Baron switches the name cards so he can sit next to his friend. He mentions a man named Boguchi giving him a quizzical expression, and I am assuming it's the guy he switched name cards with, but who the hell knows, because Boguchi was never mentioned before. There was a distinct lack of setting of the scene that bothered me, yet the author takes the time to mention every tea, vodka, and food in the room, because why? I have no idea.
Books shouldn't be this dull or this difficult to read. It's not enjoyable. That said, it does make me want to read more books in snowy settings, and more books about Russian culture because I found that part of it fascinating. The rest? Not so much.
Things that are good:
I didn't hate the protagonist; in fact, I enjoyed his humor and way of interacting with all the different people he encountered. I liked Chang, the dwarf, a lot. He was theatrical and I liked the dramatic way that he explained the things that happened to him.
The author brought the setting to life in a wondrous way. Isolated, freezing, snowy, and in the middle of a Russian-Chinese culture clash, it's only natural that the Baron would be caught in the middle, trying to navigate between two different communities trying to manage the spread of a plague. But that's where the good ends.
Things that aren't so good:
The storytelling, because what story? Nothing happens in this book. It opens in a sort of mysterious way, with two bodies being found in the snow alongside some train tracks, but then it turns to a whole lot of dialogue and bureaucratic conversations that never lead anywhere or seem to matter. I'm not sure what this book wants to be. Maybe a mystery, but then why is it so bland? Sure, it's about the spread of a plague and it's based on a true story, but you can find this information on a Wikipedia page. Hint: I did. I went looking. And it's written in a much less long-winded way and, dare I say, easier to understand way than this book.
There's also a lack of clarity often in the writing. The author will mention people that I didn't even know were in the room. For example, there's a banquet at one point about halfway through the book, and Baron switches the name cards so he can sit next to his friend. He mentions a man named Boguchi giving him a quizzical expression, and I am assuming it's the guy he switched name cards with, but who the hell knows, because Boguchi was never mentioned before. There was a distinct lack of setting of the scene that bothered me, yet the author takes the time to mention every tea, vodka, and food in the room, because why? I have no idea.
Books shouldn't be this dull or this difficult to read. It's not enjoyable. That said, it does make me want to read more books in snowy settings, and more books about Russian culture because I found that part of it fascinating. The rest? Not so much.
December 8, 2017
The Winter Station by Jody Shields was just the read I needed. I was experiencing a lack of motivation and knew it was time to pick up a book that would sweep me along into it's world.
Based on a "true story that has been lost to history," the atmospheric setting is beautifully detailed, the mystery revealed with a slow build up of suspense, the characters fully realized and sympathetic.
The story takes place in the winter of 1910 in a remote Manchurian city built as a train station and hub of the railroad that brings freight and passengers across Asia. Divided into quadrants, each with its own character and government, Chinese and Russian, with Japan champing at the bit to invade Manchuria, the city's peace is precarious.
The Baron has rejected the life of wealth and privilege to become a doctor. He embraces Manchuria, marrying a Manchu woman and learning the customs and language. He is more comfortable with smugglers and misfits than with his own class. He is open to new ideas, including modern medical practices such as hand-washing and the use of masks.
The Baron is a student of calligraphy, struggling to find the calm center which allows the brush to lead his hands. He enjoys the formality of the tea ceremony, boiling water poured over a hand turned, unglazed clay teapot to warm it, the rolled leaves set inside and steeped three times, each steeping of tea offering a new experience. His lovely young wife is his refuge, and he marvels at his happiness with her.
In the bitter snow of winter the dead appear, frozen and blood splattered. As the weeks go on, it is clear there is an epidemic of monstrous proportions. Dr. Wu, the Baron, and other doctors clash over methodology, and the Baron argues against the orders of secrecy and the disposal of the deceased. The Baron seeks a balanced path between East and West, the interests of state and business versus medical practice and wisdom, considering needs of the poor and rich and even the quick and the dead.
Scenes of unimaginable hell become commonplace, and every decision made could mean life or death. The historical plague took 40,000 to 60,000 lives over the winter of 1910-11.
Shields' novel brings alive a city and place that was totally new to me. I loved the descriptions of the tea ceremony and calligraphy lessons, although some readers may complain that these scenes impede the plot. I say, bosh, the scenes make the world come alive. My only disappointment was the open ending. I had invested a great deal in the lives of the characters and I was left stranded on the ice.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
Based on a "true story that has been lost to history," the atmospheric setting is beautifully detailed, the mystery revealed with a slow build up of suspense, the characters fully realized and sympathetic.
The story takes place in the winter of 1910 in a remote Manchurian city built as a train station and hub of the railroad that brings freight and passengers across Asia. Divided into quadrants, each with its own character and government, Chinese and Russian, with Japan champing at the bit to invade Manchuria, the city's peace is precarious.
The Baron has rejected the life of wealth and privilege to become a doctor. He embraces Manchuria, marrying a Manchu woman and learning the customs and language. He is more comfortable with smugglers and misfits than with his own class. He is open to new ideas, including modern medical practices such as hand-washing and the use of masks.
The Baron is a student of calligraphy, struggling to find the calm center which allows the brush to lead his hands. He enjoys the formality of the tea ceremony, boiling water poured over a hand turned, unglazed clay teapot to warm it, the rolled leaves set inside and steeped three times, each steeping of tea offering a new experience. His lovely young wife is his refuge, and he marvels at his happiness with her.
In the bitter snow of winter the dead appear, frozen and blood splattered. As the weeks go on, it is clear there is an epidemic of monstrous proportions. Dr. Wu, the Baron, and other doctors clash over methodology, and the Baron argues against the orders of secrecy and the disposal of the deceased. The Baron seeks a balanced path between East and West, the interests of state and business versus medical practice and wisdom, considering needs of the poor and rich and even the quick and the dead.
Scenes of unimaginable hell become commonplace, and every decision made could mean life or death. The historical plague took 40,000 to 60,000 lives over the winter of 1910-11.
Shields' novel brings alive a city and place that was totally new to me. I loved the descriptions of the tea ceremony and calligraphy lessons, although some readers may complain that these scenes impede the plot. I say, bosh, the scenes make the world come alive. My only disappointment was the open ending. I had invested a great deal in the lives of the characters and I was left stranded on the ice.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
Read
January 27, 2018I received an eARC from NetGalley for review.
Oy vey...
So I am normally able to read a 200-400 page book in one night. I managed to read The Revolution of Marina M. in 2 days (it's an 800 page beast of a book set in Russia). I enjoy reading and I'm fast at it thanks to learning how to speed and skim read for my six years in post secondary. I also love (LOVE) things set in Russia...about Russia...with Russian characters. I love books even remotely connected to Russia. I am an avid inhaler of historical fictions and I love when there's details put in.
With that said...it has taken me 3 days to get to page 30 and I caught myself skimming the last page!
There's both too much and not enough information at the beginning to the point that it is off-putting--not intriguing. Page 30 and I know basically nothing and I was bored out of my mind. The writing style reminds me so much of when you had to write a 25 page paper and you're at page 15 and have nothing else to add to your argument so you just start adding in random information and sentences in order to meet the length requirement. The first 30 pages could've been condensed into like 5 and kept my attention.
I'm not someone afraid of bailing on a book so I am DNFing this. I have a general rule of trying to get to page 50 of a book before bailing but I just don't want to keep reading this unfortunately. I haven't gotten far enough in to give any criticisms or praises about the story itself. Hopefully it will give others some enjoyment but this writing is just not for me.
Oy vey...
So I am normally able to read a 200-400 page book in one night. I managed to read The Revolution of Marina M. in 2 days (it's an 800 page beast of a book set in Russia). I enjoy reading and I'm fast at it thanks to learning how to speed and skim read for my six years in post secondary. I also love (LOVE) things set in Russia...about Russia...with Russian characters. I love books even remotely connected to Russia. I am an avid inhaler of historical fictions and I love when there's details put in.
With that said...it has taken me 3 days to get to page 30 and I caught myself skimming the last page!
There's both too much and not enough information at the beginning to the point that it is off-putting--not intriguing. Page 30 and I know basically nothing and I was bored out of my mind. The writing style reminds me so much of when you had to write a 25 page paper and you're at page 15 and have nothing else to add to your argument so you just start adding in random information and sentences in order to meet the length requirement. The first 30 pages could've been condensed into like 5 and kept my attention.
I'm not someone afraid of bailing on a book so I am DNFing this. I have a general rule of trying to get to page 50 of a book before bailing but I just don't want to keep reading this unfortunately. I haven't gotten far enough in to give any criticisms or praises about the story itself. Hopefully it will give others some enjoyment but this writing is just not for me.
March 9, 2018
Thank you Little Brown & Co for the opportunity to read and review this book!
It is important to know before you read, that this is very much a mood read. Best read in the depths of winter, when you have a clear mind, ready to focus a bit and escape into another world.
There is a quality to this story that is incredibly meditative - it is set in 1910 in a Russian outpost in Manchuria. Perhaps it is the biting cold, or perhaps the elements of Chinese culture- tea ceremony and sacred calligraphy practice - lovingly described, that give it a still, quiet, haunting quality. Parts of it feel like non-fiction in its extreme historical detail, though the protagonist, the Baron, is very well-developed and filled out. His inner life is one of the most vibrant parts of this story set in the bleak and isolating wilderness of Manchuria against the back-drop of a horrific epidemic in which people don't have much of an option but to avoid interaction.
If you enjoy the Russian classics especially, you will likely enjoy this book. Shields takes the time to make the world rich with the quotidian details of the seemingly mundane. And it is through this day to day examination of a brutal testing time on the human spirit, that the story really pops out of character growth and experience.
Do understand, this is not a plot-driven narrative. We are given most of the plot within the synopsis, and though we understand at the get-go the reason behind the mysterious deaths in the town, it is and remains a mystery to the characters through most of the book. The real treat in this book, is the atmospheric setting and Shields' ability to so precisely carve out this bizarre time period and horrific experience in a way that makes it pop effortlessly into the imagination of the reader, all whist giving a testament to the resilience we can be capable of in the face of intense hardship.
For me, this is a difficult kind of read, and for my personal tastes I would rate it around a 3. But! I believe given the right mood or reader, it can be much more deeply enjoyed and that it really is a rare type of "experiential" book. So I am rating it at 4 here. I recommend you take the time to get to know the wonderful, kind-hearted, respectful, and curious Baron. He is a delight.
And, may I add, I find it absolutely fascinating that Jody Shields is such a Renaissance woman -her art has been presented in the MoMa, she was an editor at Vogue and for The New York Times magazine, and this is her third novel! I can really respect an artist who branches out and explores as many forms of expression as possible.
*3 words: bleak, cerebral, poignant
*what i loved: the precise creation of minutiae in a totally foreign period of time and locale; the exploration of a doctor's demons
*what i questioned: how can writers seek to engage a reader more when a book is specifically an atmospheric type read?
*overall rating: 3.5 stars
*Find my bookish posts and reviews on IG @mlleboaz.bibliophile !
It is important to know before you read, that this is very much a mood read. Best read in the depths of winter, when you have a clear mind, ready to focus a bit and escape into another world.
There is a quality to this story that is incredibly meditative - it is set in 1910 in a Russian outpost in Manchuria. Perhaps it is the biting cold, or perhaps the elements of Chinese culture- tea ceremony and sacred calligraphy practice - lovingly described, that give it a still, quiet, haunting quality. Parts of it feel like non-fiction in its extreme historical detail, though the protagonist, the Baron, is very well-developed and filled out. His inner life is one of the most vibrant parts of this story set in the bleak and isolating wilderness of Manchuria against the back-drop of a horrific epidemic in which people don't have much of an option but to avoid interaction.
If you enjoy the Russian classics especially, you will likely enjoy this book. Shields takes the time to make the world rich with the quotidian details of the seemingly mundane. And it is through this day to day examination of a brutal testing time on the human spirit, that the story really pops out of character growth and experience.
Do understand, this is not a plot-driven narrative. We are given most of the plot within the synopsis, and though we understand at the get-go the reason behind the mysterious deaths in the town, it is and remains a mystery to the characters through most of the book. The real treat in this book, is the atmospheric setting and Shields' ability to so precisely carve out this bizarre time period and horrific experience in a way that makes it pop effortlessly into the imagination of the reader, all whist giving a testament to the resilience we can be capable of in the face of intense hardship.
For me, this is a difficult kind of read, and for my personal tastes I would rate it around a 3. But! I believe given the right mood or reader, it can be much more deeply enjoyed and that it really is a rare type of "experiential" book. So I am rating it at 4 here. I recommend you take the time to get to know the wonderful, kind-hearted, respectful, and curious Baron. He is a delight.
And, may I add, I find it absolutely fascinating that Jody Shields is such a Renaissance woman -her art has been presented in the MoMa, she was an editor at Vogue and for The New York Times magazine, and this is her third novel! I can really respect an artist who branches out and explores as many forms of expression as possible.
*3 words: bleak, cerebral, poignant
*what i loved: the precise creation of minutiae in a totally foreign period of time and locale; the exploration of a doctor's demons
*what i questioned: how can writers seek to engage a reader more when a book is specifically an atmospheric type read?
*overall rating: 3.5 stars
*Find my bookish posts and reviews on IG @mlleboaz.bibliophile !
November 30, 2017
I really wanted to like this book.
It’s solidly written with some lovely turns of phrase; the main character is developed well enough (though I’m afraid I can’t quite say the same for many of the supporting cast); and the plot, at least in summary (A mysterious plague has struck! Can the city’s doctors stop it before it spreads, or they themselves are infected?), is an interesting one.
But this book was never able to hook me. I reached the midway point and was surprised to find that I still had no feelings for the protagonist or really cared at all about his search for a cure for the plague. I felt nothing about his relationships with his superiors, his fellow doctors, or his wife. The plague kills quickly and the doctors have to battle both conflicting medical ideas as well as city bureaucracy in their effort to contain it—but I was bored. I could see urgency in the characters’ movements on the page, I could see their emotional states and reactions, but I never *felt* it.
It’s hard for me to explain. On paper, all the pieces are there for this to be a compelling narrative, but the spark, the hook, is missing.
This isn’t a bad book, and I think some will enjoy it. It’s a time period rife for exploration and a fascinating idea for a novel, but unfortunately, this novel never connected with me.
It’s solidly written with some lovely turns of phrase; the main character is developed well enough (though I’m afraid I can’t quite say the same for many of the supporting cast); and the plot, at least in summary (A mysterious plague has struck! Can the city’s doctors stop it before it spreads, or they themselves are infected?), is an interesting one.
But this book was never able to hook me. I reached the midway point and was surprised to find that I still had no feelings for the protagonist or really cared at all about his search for a cure for the plague. I felt nothing about his relationships with his superiors, his fellow doctors, or his wife. The plague kills quickly and the doctors have to battle both conflicting medical ideas as well as city bureaucracy in their effort to contain it—but I was bored. I could see urgency in the characters’ movements on the page, I could see their emotional states and reactions, but I never *felt* it.
It’s hard for me to explain. On paper, all the pieces are there for this to be a compelling narrative, but the spark, the hook, is missing.
This isn’t a bad book, and I think some will enjoy it. It’s a time period rife for exploration and a fascinating idea for a novel, but unfortunately, this novel never connected with me.
August 30, 2018
Frustratingly not good. The subject matter sounds so interesting, but the dialogue is confusingly written and the characters aren't well developed. The book is much more a peak into a part of history than an actual story. The plot is not good.
November 3, 2020
The Winter Station is set in the early 20th century in northern China when Russia was building the Chinese Eastern Railway. Russian influence in the region is heavy-handed in an area that has a boom town atmosphere with settlements growing around it.
Baron von Budberg, a Russian aristocrat, is the Chief Medical Examiner. The Baron has assimilated into the Chinese community, learning the language and marrying a Chinese woman. He appreciates the finer points of Chinese culture, studying calligraphy and enjoying the intricacies of the variety of tea leaves and their preparation. His enthusiasm for the local culture is disparaged by other Russians in the elite circles of power. Bodies begin to be found in Kharkin without the Baron being alerted. He begins to question what is happening. The answer soon becomes apparent, the plague is spreading throughout the population.
This novel is based on a a real event, the Manchurian plague, which caused approximately 60,000 deaths. It was at this point the novel began to mirror real life. The Manchurian plague was pneumonia based. There are debates on how the disease spreads, whether doctors (never mind the average person) should be wearing masks and infection control. Culture clashes between traditional Chinese medicine and western methodology ensue. There are believers and non-believers. Yikes!
I recommend The Winter Station to readers who enjoy atmospheric reads set in another time and place. Jody Shields' inspiration for the novel is based on Baron Rozher Alexandrovich von Budberg's memoir about his experiences. The book is very slow moving which may explain the low ratings on Goodreads. Don't let the low ratings deter you if this type of novel appeals to you.
Baron von Budberg, a Russian aristocrat, is the Chief Medical Examiner. The Baron has assimilated into the Chinese community, learning the language and marrying a Chinese woman. He appreciates the finer points of Chinese culture, studying calligraphy and enjoying the intricacies of the variety of tea leaves and their preparation. His enthusiasm for the local culture is disparaged by other Russians in the elite circles of power. Bodies begin to be found in Kharkin without the Baron being alerted. He begins to question what is happening. The answer soon becomes apparent, the plague is spreading throughout the population.
This novel is based on a a real event, the Manchurian plague, which caused approximately 60,000 deaths. It was at this point the novel began to mirror real life. The Manchurian plague was pneumonia based. There are debates on how the disease spreads, whether doctors (never mind the average person) should be wearing masks and infection control. Culture clashes between traditional Chinese medicine and western methodology ensue. There are believers and non-believers. Yikes!
I recommend The Winter Station to readers who enjoy atmospheric reads set in another time and place. Jody Shields' inspiration for the novel is based on Baron Rozher Alexandrovich von Budberg's memoir about his experiences. The book is very slow moving which may explain the low ratings on Goodreads. Don't let the low ratings deter you if this type of novel appeals to you.
February 2, 2018
Jody Shields’s new novel, “The Winter Station,” takes place in 1910 Kharbin, a bleak Russian-controlled outpost in Manchuria. People are dying; their bodies are disappearing mysteriously. Baron von Budberg, the town’s aristocratic doctor, discovers an epidemic and a coverup.
In this tale based on an actual Manchurian plague, much is still unknown about the transmission of the disease, even to the various Eastern and Western doctors. The city’s Russian ruler tells the Baron, “Information does not belong equally to everyone.” He goes to great lengths to protect information — and his own power. But a secret like the plague doesn’t keep for long...
Read the rest of this review at The Washington Post .
In this tale based on an actual Manchurian plague, much is still unknown about the transmission of the disease, even to the various Eastern and Western doctors. The city’s Russian ruler tells the Baron, “Information does not belong equally to everyone.” He goes to great lengths to protect information — and his own power. But a secret like the plague doesn’t keep for long...
Read the rest of this review at The Washington Post .
February 13, 2020
The Winter Station byJody Shields once again reaffirms the role historical fiction plays in introducing me to history I don't know. I end up spending more time with the history than the story itself. The history is fascinating. The story as told in the book is compelling in the intensity of the situation but less interesting to read. Nothing much happens. The book is slow-paced and sometimes repetitive with an abrupt ending.
Read my complete review at http://www.memoriesfrombooks.com/2018...
Reviewed for NetGalley
Read my complete review at http://www.memoriesfrombooks.com/2018...
Reviewed for NetGalley
September 16, 2018
Almost DNF. I can't point to anything bad per se; its just that the narrative did not capture my fancy at all, the characters did not appear compelling to me, and there were no discernible underlying themes that beckoned my interest.
January 7, 2019
The story goes absolutely nowhere - but the setting (Harbin in the time after the Russo-Japanese war and right before the Revolution and Civil War) is interesting and the rambling on about Chinese medicine and Chinese calligraphy can be quite engaging
September 14, 2021
Three stars for the story and one for Simon Vance on the narration.
A tough story to get through, given Covid-19 today, but the history and the conditions in 1910 Manchuria were so chilling. The social and political conditions were almost unfathomable. I am glad I read it but I am more grateful that we have not had to live through Covid-19 without knowing how it spreads and without knowing how to protect ourselves, even if many do not want to believe it.
A tough story to get through, given Covid-19 today, but the history and the conditions in 1910 Manchuria were so chilling. The social and political conditions were almost unfathomable. I am glad I read it but I am more grateful that we have not had to live through Covid-19 without knowing how it spreads and without knowing how to protect ourselves, even if many do not want to believe it.
Read
January 24, 2024DNF at page 198. If I keep forcing myself to read this book, I'm going to put myself in a reading slump and I don't want that to happen. I was honestly just really bored. I get this is based on true events and I'm sure it was devastating while it was going on, but I don't want to read about a plague. Sorry, but this just wasn't my cup of tea.
March 8, 2022
Excellent book! The Winter Station is an historical fiction set in 1910 in Kharbin, a Russian outpost in Manchuria. When dead bodies start disappearing, the city’s chief medical officer starts to investigate. What follows is the discovery of a plague that quickly kills, and quickly spreads.
It has been said that history repeats itself. This novel is a testament to that. As the doctor corroborates with doctors from various countries to discover the source, means of transmission, types of treatments, and how to control and stop it from spreading, it is eerily similar to the same concerns with Covid 19. Were rats responsible for the spread of the plague? Or could it be transmitted through touching an object worn or handled by an infected person? Would masks, gowns, disinfectant help? Can an effective vaccine be produced quickly? Should the trains be shut down, and people quarantined? What should be done with all the dead bodies? This book was written in January 2018 and is almost prophetic! Change a word or two in many sentences, and you’d think it was written today.
There are other layers of the story. The medical staff also had to balance medical necessities with cultural traditions of the Chinese. There were also cultural and political classes and distrust between the Chinese and Russians).
Two side themes were also woven into the story which were interesting. One was the art of calligraphy writing. The other was the traditional tea ceremony. Both added to the story.
Fascinating book!
It has been said that history repeats itself. This novel is a testament to that. As the doctor corroborates with doctors from various countries to discover the source, means of transmission, types of treatments, and how to control and stop it from spreading, it is eerily similar to the same concerns with Covid 19. Were rats responsible for the spread of the plague? Or could it be transmitted through touching an object worn or handled by an infected person? Would masks, gowns, disinfectant help? Can an effective vaccine be produced quickly? Should the trains be shut down, and people quarantined? What should be done with all the dead bodies? This book was written in January 2018 and is almost prophetic! Change a word or two in many sentences, and you’d think it was written today.
There are other layers of the story. The medical staff also had to balance medical necessities with cultural traditions of the Chinese. There were also cultural and political classes and distrust between the Chinese and Russians).
Two side themes were also woven into the story which were interesting. One was the art of calligraphy writing. The other was the traditional tea ceremony. Both added to the story.
Fascinating book!
February 10, 2022
Ugh no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wanted to like this book so much, but it was so bad! The characters were dull, the plot meandering and sometimes entirely dying out, the historical details displayed unevenly, and then there was this strange way in which the theme of deadly epidemic was handled.
The setting is fascinating – early 20th century Manchuria, the city of Harbin (spelled Kharbin in the book) – but it is treated as this totally backwards hellhole of a town, when at the time it was anything but. Granted, the main character the Baron (based on a real person) is an aristocrat who has lived in St. Petersburg and probably visited a few European capitals, but still Harbin was not exactly ye olde provincial town.
Since the book is based on the memoirs of the Baron about the 1910-1911 plague epidemic in Manchuria, perhaps it does reflect his attitude towards the place and its inhabitants, and later on towards the fight against the plague… but it’s difficult to know how much of it is true and how much is licentia poetica. The Baron is highly critical of the measures undertaken by the Chinese, Russian and Japanese governments to contain and eradicate the plague – he’s opposed to wearing masks (at first), to the quarantine (at first), to the autopsies, to the burning the bodies of the dead because it is against the Chinese custom. He is supposed to be fluent in Chinese, he studies calligraphy, he has a Chinese wife (who is more of his concubine, I guess)… but I’d like to know whether this was the real Baron, or the character in the book.
There is something very bizarre about all that – it feels as if the book were based the memoirs of the Baron and not much more. The Baron seems to have been highly critical of the Malaysia-born Dr. Wu Lien-teh, who was nominated by the Qing government to investigate the at the time unknown disease in Manchuria. Dr. Wu was able to perform the autopsy of one of the first victims and to ascertain that the disease was the pneumonic plague. He developed special kind of masks to be worn to filter the air (since the disease was airborne), initiated the quarantine and widespread disinfection measures, and asked the Qing court for permission to cremate plague victims. The latter measure proved to be the turning point of the epidemic. Dr. Wu went on to publish a research paper about the plague which was published in The Lancet shortly after; he was also the first Malayan to be nominated for the Nobel Prize in 1935, and is regarded as the first person to modernize Chinese medical education, etc. At Harbin Medical University there’s the Wu Lien-Teh Institute. There are roads, schools, prizes etc. named after him. (Ugh I am tired.) Yet in this book, he is portrayed as this clueless and pathetic upstart in a funny tweed suit, with his eye on his position and career only, without any knowledge of Chinese customs or language (since he was born in Penang, Malaysia). As opposed to, you know, the Baron.
Wu was arrogant, constantly miscalculating the effect of his words and attitude on patients. This was an unforgivable flaw for a doctor. The Baron had lived in Manchuria for years, was fluent in the language, and respected the Chinese. Yet Wu didn’t ask for advice or recommendations. Never shared a cup of tea. The man seemed to represent everything that was wrong with the system.
If the honorable officials had been infected during this foolish laboratory inspection, it would actually serve a purpose, creating alarm, bringing aid and money into Kharbin. If he survive, Dr. Wu would be elevated to prominence. Everything – rule of law, civic duty, a doctor’s oath – was expendable.
Wu is incapable.
What I would like to know is, are these the opinions of the historical Baron? They are never challenged in the book. There is a bizarre scene in which the Baron “proves” that the bodies of plague victims are not contagious. What? Why? I don’t understand.
The atmosphere of the winter in plague-stricken city is well done, but there’s not much else to enjoy about this book. There’s no plot; people come and go, talk mostly in the same way, whether they are men or women, old or young, Russian or Chinese. They do things of no consequence. Why did Li Ju, the Baron’s wife, insist on going to the club with him? What was the purpose of the character of Antonov or Chang?
The narration contradicts itself constantly:
”Don’t touch him!” The Baron stopped at Khorvat’s shout. He waited for an explanation, but Khorvat smoked a cigarette, silently staring down at the body. So was he silent, or was he shouting? While also smoking a cigarette?
A notorious miser, Khorvat sent all his money to Crimea, […] A wealthy man, Khorvat insulated himself against the vast emptiness of Manchuria by crowding his home with carved furniture, velvet curtains, carpets from Belgium, Venetian crystal chandeliers and So was he a miser or not?
Ugh, I can’t. The most irritating thing in this book was the fantastic insistence that Russians are not Slavs:
He turned his attention to this younger nun, an unsmiling girl no more than sixteen, Russian or Slav, with green eyes.
There’s a minor character who has no name and is consistently referred to as “the Slav”, by which we are to surmise that he’s not Russian? According to Wiki, Slavs are the largest ethno-liguistic group in Europe, and Russians are the largest group in it. I can’t even. Them Slavs always causing problems, I guess.
February 22, 2018
If I can't get into a book within a couple of chapters, I give up. This was one of those books.
June 18, 2023
I finished it only because I started it and I kept believing it had to get better.
April 3, 2018
This story takes place in the winter of 1910. It is based on a true story and is
about the plague that hits Kharbin,a major railway outpost in northern
China. The main characters are a wealthy Baron and the city’s medical
Commissioner who try to stop the plague. They are torn between duty and
Compassion and medical science and respect for the Chinese people and
their cultural traditions. Love, fear and morality play a big role in the story.
It was an interesting tale but not my favorite kind of book.
about the plague that hits Kharbin,a major railway outpost in northern
China. The main characters are a wealthy Baron and the city’s medical
Commissioner who try to stop the plague. They are torn between duty and
Compassion and medical science and respect for the Chinese people and
their cultural traditions. Love, fear and morality play a big role in the story.
It was an interesting tale but not my favorite kind of book.
July 27, 2022
This book was disappointing and yet eerily familiar in that it focuses on a plague in the 1910s infecting Chinese & Russians alike. Unfortunately I found no real resolution, I felt the story ended abruptly and we never find an answer as to what caused the virus or the fates of the main characters.
Want to read
May 1, 2020This is such an interesting story. Too much detail for an audiobook though. Unless you’re sitting still doing nothing. 🙂 I’d like to come back to it—the print version.
February 28, 2019
I am so really unsatisfied with a book, and so disappointed when I stick it out to finish one to find the ending to be lack luster.... making me ask myself why didn't I stop reading when I could not get a feeling of what the author wanted us to engage with. If it was suppose to be a reflection of the frustration you would have with Russian bureaucracy, them perhaps I can agree that point was made.
December 27, 2018
THE WINTER STATION is set in Manchuria in Northern China in 1910. Author Jody Shields describes the frigid landscape of the railroad center, Kharbin, in vivid detail. At the time, the region is under military control of the Russians, with a shaky truce between them and its Chinese residents. General Dmitry Khorvat has been appointed by the czar to maintain Russian control over all matters both civil and military. He has named Dr. Baron von Budberg, son of a Russian aristocrat, as the town’s chief medical administrator working in the Russian hospital. The doctor is referred to as the Baron throughout the story.
During the time he has resided in Kharbin, the Baron has become acquainted with a Russian commoner, Andreev. Although Andreev is beneath the Baron in station, the two have developed a symbiotic relationship. They both rely on the other for information and enjoy an odd friendship. We first meet them when Andreev reports that two dead bodies have been seen outside the railroad tracks. His informer tells him that soldiers put the bodies into a cart that night with covered lanterns. There were no other witnesses.
The Baron is puzzled that no bodies were brought to the hospital. As administrator, he should have signed the death certificates. Shrugging his shoulders, he muses that “I assume the dead were Chinese.”
“Yes,” replies Andreev.
Shields writes, “Two deaths marked only with words.”
The Baron returns home to his young Chinese wife, Li Ju. He is accorded the respect that his noble upbringing demands, but his colleagues speak behind his back about his fixation for the mores of the Chinese people, their language and customs. Russians deem the Oriental residents as little more than slave labor, with practically no personal contact. Beijing runs the civil affairs of its Chinese citizens as totally separate from the Russian command. The two cultures exist together without compatibility.
The Baron refuses to let the mysterious deaths remain unaddressed. He questions Russian soldiers who may have seen others cart off the dead Chinese. Perhaps they were robbed, killed and left for dead. His curious nature will not let the matter rest. He takes what little information he can secure to General Khorvat, who listens but sees no rush to account for the dead. He tells the Baron, “I don’t value you as a cataloger of the dead.”
However, the Baron cannot stop thinking about those deaths and confides in Andreev about his misgivings. Together, they go to a tavern and imbibe, meeting with a congenial dwarf who welcomes wealthy customers as the doorman for the Russian clothing store. The Baron discovers that Chang Huai is an endless source of information about the city, its people and history. However, his loyalty is to the Russians who pay him well.
In short order, additional bodies turn up in snow banks. Symptoms of coughing, bloody sputum, raspy throats, limited breathing and sickness have invaded the city. Beijing sends a young physician who exhibits more arrogance than intelligence to minister to the Chinese people afflicted with the mysterious disease that has no cure. He sets up a Chinese hospital, using the facility for autopsies of the dead, a forbidden practice in Buddhist culture. Once the disease is identified as the Plague, all doctors in Kharbin work around the clock to protect the living from contamination. Little is known about its treatment. The Baron is deeply concerned about the “how and when” of its initial transmission. Working with Chang, Andreev and his Russian medical companions, he strives to end the scourge.
Shields presents her novel with the detail and fluidity of the early Russian novelists. Manchuria’s history is splattered with those who came to conquer but find that they can only administrate, not assimilate. The Baron is remarkable in his ability to fight a dreaded plague, steadfast loyalty to his profession, unceasing curiosity about his adopted home’s language and people, and enduring love for Li Ju. He is also admirable, elegant and doggedly human. THE WINTER STATION offers much for readers of historical fiction.
Reviewed by Judy Gigstad
During the time he has resided in Kharbin, the Baron has become acquainted with a Russian commoner, Andreev. Although Andreev is beneath the Baron in station, the two have developed a symbiotic relationship. They both rely on the other for information and enjoy an odd friendship. We first meet them when Andreev reports that two dead bodies have been seen outside the railroad tracks. His informer tells him that soldiers put the bodies into a cart that night with covered lanterns. There were no other witnesses.
The Baron is puzzled that no bodies were brought to the hospital. As administrator, he should have signed the death certificates. Shrugging his shoulders, he muses that “I assume the dead were Chinese.”
“Yes,” replies Andreev.
Shields writes, “Two deaths marked only with words.”
The Baron returns home to his young Chinese wife, Li Ju. He is accorded the respect that his noble upbringing demands, but his colleagues speak behind his back about his fixation for the mores of the Chinese people, their language and customs. Russians deem the Oriental residents as little more than slave labor, with practically no personal contact. Beijing runs the civil affairs of its Chinese citizens as totally separate from the Russian command. The two cultures exist together without compatibility.
The Baron refuses to let the mysterious deaths remain unaddressed. He questions Russian soldiers who may have seen others cart off the dead Chinese. Perhaps they were robbed, killed and left for dead. His curious nature will not let the matter rest. He takes what little information he can secure to General Khorvat, who listens but sees no rush to account for the dead. He tells the Baron, “I don’t value you as a cataloger of the dead.”
However, the Baron cannot stop thinking about those deaths and confides in Andreev about his misgivings. Together, they go to a tavern and imbibe, meeting with a congenial dwarf who welcomes wealthy customers as the doorman for the Russian clothing store. The Baron discovers that Chang Huai is an endless source of information about the city, its people and history. However, his loyalty is to the Russians who pay him well.
In short order, additional bodies turn up in snow banks. Symptoms of coughing, bloody sputum, raspy throats, limited breathing and sickness have invaded the city. Beijing sends a young physician who exhibits more arrogance than intelligence to minister to the Chinese people afflicted with the mysterious disease that has no cure. He sets up a Chinese hospital, using the facility for autopsies of the dead, a forbidden practice in Buddhist culture. Once the disease is identified as the Plague, all doctors in Kharbin work around the clock to protect the living from contamination. Little is known about its treatment. The Baron is deeply concerned about the “how and when” of its initial transmission. Working with Chang, Andreev and his Russian medical companions, he strives to end the scourge.
Shields presents her novel with the detail and fluidity of the early Russian novelists. Manchuria’s history is splattered with those who came to conquer but find that they can only administrate, not assimilate. The Baron is remarkable in his ability to fight a dreaded plague, steadfast loyalty to his profession, unceasing curiosity about his adopted home’s language and people, and enduring love for Li Ju. He is also admirable, elegant and doggedly human. THE WINTER STATION offers much for readers of historical fiction.
Reviewed by Judy Gigstad
March 16, 2018
More reviews available at my blog, Beauty and the Bookworm.
This was another book that struck my eye while at the bookstore, but it wasn't one that intrigued me quite enough to shell out the jacket price for it. Luckily, that is what the public library is for.
This is a book about a plague--pneumonic plague, particularly, one that ravaged the city of Harbin (known as Kharbin the book, due to its Russian perspective) in the early twentieth century. It's a city in China but one that is essentially ruled by Russia, but I have some reservations about this...more on that later. The main character is "the Baron," the medical examiner for the city, who I personally could not stand. Though he's supposed to be working with a team of doctors, all of them trying to prevent the plague from spreading, he has a much "holier than thou" perspective, pretending he knows better than everyone else involved even though no one seems to know what they're doing, himself included.
This was not a book I ended up liking very much. The Baron was a huge turn-off to me. While Shields presents him as having more respect for the Chinese residents of the city than anyone else, his bend towards Chinese medicine doesn't actually benefit anyone and might actually make things worse. He's just as closed off to new opinions as his peers, though he's fine with his close-mindedness because of course he is right. (He's not.) And then, when things get mad, instead of buckling down and forging onward, he essentially throws a fit, leaves the main the hospital, and starts wandering the streets looking for random people to help. He becomes increasingly paranoid about being infected with the plague himself, which, while understandable, didn't really make him any more likable because reading about his obsession over and over again didn't contribute at all to the story.
This is also a book that doesn't have a climax or conclusion, but rather instead just peters out as the Baron runs around with ever decreasing agency and purpose. It has no sense of closure. It's very strange. There's a quote on the cover that this a book about Russia (IT'S NOT RUSSIA IT'S CHINA, STOP COLONIALISM) that reads as if it were written by a Russian; I don't have a huge base in Russian literature, but I would agree with that assessment...however, in this particular case, I don't think this is a huge boon to the story. Instead, it reads as cold, something that suits the setting and story, but which doesn't really make for an emotional or riveting read. There's a lot of drinking vodka and practicing calligraphy and mourning the fate of society, or whatever, and not a lot of stuff actually taking place, not even on a character-development front. It is a book that is not driven by plot nor character, and instead drifts along without purpose.
And finally, let's address historical accuracy. Shields based her narrative off a real person who wrote a memoir, which was published in German. I don't have access to this memoir. However, wanting to know more about this plague, I started Googling, and...well, it seems like the Baron is an awful choice for hero because he was pretty much, uhm, wrong, and all of the people made out to be villain in this were actually more heroes in the actual course of events. Even if their initiatives weren't always successful, they were at least trying, unlike the Baron, who sneers at everyone else but doesn't ultimately do anything of his own to end the plague.
Ultimately, this was a disappointing book, one that had a vastly colonialist bend, and was not an interesting read at all. I'm kind of sorry I sunk so much time into this, hoping it would get better when it never did.
2 stars out of 5--mostly for an interesting setting and time period and not for the characters or the story itself.
This was another book that struck my eye while at the bookstore, but it wasn't one that intrigued me quite enough to shell out the jacket price for it. Luckily, that is what the public library is for.
This is a book about a plague--pneumonic plague, particularly, one that ravaged the city of Harbin (known as Kharbin the book, due to its Russian perspective) in the early twentieth century. It's a city in China but one that is essentially ruled by Russia, but I have some reservations about this...more on that later. The main character is "the Baron," the medical examiner for the city, who I personally could not stand. Though he's supposed to be working with a team of doctors, all of them trying to prevent the plague from spreading, he has a much "holier than thou" perspective, pretending he knows better than everyone else involved even though no one seems to know what they're doing, himself included.
This was not a book I ended up liking very much. The Baron was a huge turn-off to me. While Shields presents him as having more respect for the Chinese residents of the city than anyone else, his bend towards Chinese medicine doesn't actually benefit anyone and might actually make things worse. He's just as closed off to new opinions as his peers, though he's fine with his close-mindedness because of course he is right. (He's not.) And then, when things get mad, instead of buckling down and forging onward, he essentially throws a fit, leaves the main the hospital, and starts wandering the streets looking for random people to help. He becomes increasingly paranoid about being infected with the plague himself, which, while understandable, didn't really make him any more likable because reading about his obsession over and over again didn't contribute at all to the story.
This is also a book that doesn't have a climax or conclusion, but rather instead just peters out as the Baron runs around with ever decreasing agency and purpose. It has no sense of closure. It's very strange. There's a quote on the cover that this a book about Russia (IT'S NOT RUSSIA IT'S CHINA, STOP COLONIALISM) that reads as if it were written by a Russian; I don't have a huge base in Russian literature, but I would agree with that assessment...however, in this particular case, I don't think this is a huge boon to the story. Instead, it reads as cold, something that suits the setting and story, but which doesn't really make for an emotional or riveting read. There's a lot of drinking vodka and practicing calligraphy and mourning the fate of society, or whatever, and not a lot of stuff actually taking place, not even on a character-development front. It is a book that is not driven by plot nor character, and instead drifts along without purpose.
And finally, let's address historical accuracy. Shields based her narrative off a real person who wrote a memoir, which was published in German. I don't have access to this memoir. However, wanting to know more about this plague, I started Googling, and...well, it seems like the Baron is an awful choice for hero because he was pretty much, uhm, wrong, and all of the people made out to be villain in this were actually more heroes in the actual course of events. Even if their initiatives weren't always successful, they were at least trying, unlike the Baron, who sneers at everyone else but doesn't ultimately do anything of his own to end the plague.
Ultimately, this was a disappointing book, one that had a vastly colonialist bend, and was not an interesting read at all. I'm kind of sorry I sunk so much time into this, hoping it would get better when it never did.
2 stars out of 5--mostly for an interesting setting and time period and not for the characters or the story itself.
March 2, 2018
The Baron was given a three-layered wolf-fur brush to create small strokes and dots. His posture was correct, and his neck muscles tightened with tension. His hand trembled. He could wield a scalpel with delicacy but the brush was a clumsy twig in his hand. He struggled, powerless to control his movement, to calm himself.
Teacher told him to stop. "You must consider the brush in a different way. Release the brush."
"Put it down?"
"No. Release the brush while you hold the brush."
The Baron was confused, uncertain if his teacher was joking or if he'd misunderstood. Xiansheng was implacable. He instructed the Baron to sit with the brush for half an hour. It took fifteen minutes for his anger to subside. His teacher then read one of the principles of calligraphy that had been set down in the seventh century by a master Taoist calligraphist, Yu Shi'nan: "'If his mind is not tranquil, the writing will not be straight.'"
Xiansheng's expression was usually neutral, but occasionally the Baron caught a hint of the man's approval. Or perhaps this was just what he craved. During a lesson, he learned the character ming, for "brilliance," which submerged the individual characters for sun and moon. Astonished by the beautiful simplicity of this word picture, he sought his teacher's eyes, stricken by the realization that he would never master the language. At that moment, Xiansheng's eyes shone with compassion. (p. 45)
Calligraphy was a forest. No, a labyrinth of spikes where a man could be lost. A sanctuary of discipline. The soft slide of his brush on paper released the Baron's anxiety. Each brushstroke demanded his focus and skill, but lack of control was evident at the feathery edges of characters where bristles separated, producing streaky ragged-textured lines known as "flying white." At a certain angle, he could see his moving hand reflected in the shining wet black lines as if it were disconnected from his body. A black shadow on black. (p. 96)
Xiansheng had written the character jen for the Baron to copy, explaining it represented goodness, the virtue that must unite men. "When you work, remember each brushstroke must have vitality, life. Otherwise it is baibi, a defeating or dead stroke. An empty stroke is a fault."
He straightened his body in the chair at the table, his neck aching. He balanced the brush between stiff fingers, its quivering bristles finer than feathers. He tried to summon calm to his fingers, to his wrist. His awareness of his hands expanded, bones inflating inside the flesh of his fingers like a glove. I cannot make the first mark. He tried to focus but his eyes continually slipped back off the paper, sliding across it without the anchor of a black brushstroke.
Then he became angry. He was a doctor, an aristocrat, intimidated by the silent regard of a man whose language he imperfectly understood. A dead stroke? Was he at fault for not understanding? No one could understand. It was a trick, a puzzle.
He glanced at Xiansheng, aware that his expression was defiant. He thinks I'm a barbarian.
Xiansheng answered his look. "When I was young and studying calligraphy, my teacher took away my brush to help me."
The Baron was confused. "No brush?"
"I had practiced and practiced. Many considered my brushwork excellent. But my mind was unsettled. My teacher quoted the Taoist master calligraphist Yu Shi'nan: 'In the transformation of his mind, the calligrapher borrows the brush. It is not the brush that works the miracle.' He instructed me to write the characters without a brush, to only imagine using it. I did as he said. My teacher was unable to tell if I had followed his direction, but my hand became freer."
The words seemed simple, but as the Baron struggled to understand them, their meaning became more dense and tangled.
"The brush isn't the tool. A famous calligrapher used a brush the size of a cabbage."
By the time he translated this sentence, the Baron was smiling, pulled from the web of his thought. The spring wound inside him loosened. Uncoiled. His hands relaxed and the brush made its first mark, luo bi, on paper. (p. 159-160)
"Ink has been made from the same materials for hundreds of years. A hole is carved into the base of a pine tree. A small lamp is fit inside . The heat of the lamp encourages the resin to flow from the tree. After the resin has been drained, the tree is cut down and burned for several days in a kiln. The black soot is scraped from the kiln walls and mixed with glue made from animal hide or fish skin to make the ink. The different qualities of ink depend on the type of pine or fir that was burned. A skilled eye can distinguish between them. The finest ink is dongquan, made with dark amber-colored glue, molded into sticks, and elaborately carved. Rich men hoard these ink sticks like jade and never use them."
"I know the words for pine-soot ink. Songyan mo," said the Baron.
Xiansheng had gradually introduced the different brushstrokes used in calligraphy so as not to overwhelm his student. Always hold the brush vertically. Stroke it left to right, top to bottom. "Master calligraphists have described the three characteristic brushstrokes for calligraphy and painting. Long strokes are bones, muscles are short strokes, flesh forms the connecting strokes."
The Baron learned by copying, tracing the characters faintly visible on a second paper underneath the top sheet. He touched the brush to the ink. Every muscle in his back held him tense as he worked the brush. His fingers strained and tightened. He criticized himself. Frustrated and angry, he set the brush down.
Teacher offered little comfort when his student struggled but he acknowledged the decision to stop with a nod of approval. He waited in silence until he had the Baron's full attention. "There are beautiful ways to describe the act of writing," he said. "Li Ssu, a master who created a style of calligraphy wrote, 'When you swing the strokes outward it is as if the clouds were rising from behind the mountain.'" After a moment, he recited another quote. "'A vertical stroke should resemble the stem of a dried vine myriad years old. A horizontal brushstroke should resemble a could a thousand miles long.'"
How could such a concentration of information be deciphered from small black lines? The Baron's focus wandered. He recollected a singing lesson when he was a child in which his music teacher instructed him by using metaphor after metaphor. Sing as if your lips were soft as a cushion. Weightless. First, think the sound, because once it leaves your throat it's too late. After a moment of hesitation, the Baron loaded the brush with ink. How simple to hold a brush. Not simple.
A brushstroke must be simultaneously spontaneous and deliberate. His awareness became joined to the movement of his hand wielding the brush as he wrote the first character, then another. He completed a line. He squinted at the brushstrokes he'd just made on the paper. Xiansheng made the slightest gesture of approval.
The intensity and anxiety of the lessons sometimes left the Baron exhausted. Occasionally, he felt a lightness, a growing exhilaration, but suspected even this state wouldn't have met with Xiansheng's approval. His teacher wanted something indefinable and elusive, and the Baron failed to understand this mysterious demand. (p. 247-249)
Teacher studied him solemnly and suggested tea, although it was an enormous breach of courtesy for a guest to make this request of a host. They moved to an adjoining room and a servant, accompanied by the sharp clink of porcelain cups on a tray, carried in the necessities. They were safe, drinking from cups that warmed their hands until they were ready for the lesson.
Calligraphy began with the familiar preparations. Fine goose-white paper, readied on the table. Ink stick, inkstand, brushes. A tall container of water.
The lesson was a single character, qi, representing breath, air, vapor, floating, expanding, and also spirit, vital force. When Xiansheng pronounced the word qi, it sounded like the release of breath. An exhale.
A smooth scratch as Teacher's hand moved quickly, his brush painting the character, which combined wavy curved lines, representing the breath, and mi, the character for rice or grain, representing sustenance. The Baron watched, gradually conscious that the man focused from a knot of stillness that he could never hope to experience in his own body.
Finished. Teacher straightened to study his writing on the paper. "The character qi is also described as the invisible presence of the calligrapher's spirit. But it cannot be deliberately placed in a work. It's only recognized by those who possess the right qualities." (p. 265-266)
Teacher told him to stop. "You must consider the brush in a different way. Release the brush."
"Put it down?"
"No. Release the brush while you hold the brush."
The Baron was confused, uncertain if his teacher was joking or if he'd misunderstood. Xiansheng was implacable. He instructed the Baron to sit with the brush for half an hour. It took fifteen minutes for his anger to subside. His teacher then read one of the principles of calligraphy that had been set down in the seventh century by a master Taoist calligraphist, Yu Shi'nan: "'If his mind is not tranquil, the writing will not be straight.'"
Xiansheng's expression was usually neutral, but occasionally the Baron caught a hint of the man's approval. Or perhaps this was just what he craved. During a lesson, he learned the character ming, for "brilliance," which submerged the individual characters for sun and moon. Astonished by the beautiful simplicity of this word picture, he sought his teacher's eyes, stricken by the realization that he would never master the language. At that moment, Xiansheng's eyes shone with compassion. (p. 45)
Calligraphy was a forest. No, a labyrinth of spikes where a man could be lost. A sanctuary of discipline. The soft slide of his brush on paper released the Baron's anxiety. Each brushstroke demanded his focus and skill, but lack of control was evident at the feathery edges of characters where bristles separated, producing streaky ragged-textured lines known as "flying white." At a certain angle, he could see his moving hand reflected in the shining wet black lines as if it were disconnected from his body. A black shadow on black. (p. 96)
Xiansheng had written the character jen for the Baron to copy, explaining it represented goodness, the virtue that must unite men. "When you work, remember each brushstroke must have vitality, life. Otherwise it is baibi, a defeating or dead stroke. An empty stroke is a fault."
He straightened his body in the chair at the table, his neck aching. He balanced the brush between stiff fingers, its quivering bristles finer than feathers. He tried to summon calm to his fingers, to his wrist. His awareness of his hands expanded, bones inflating inside the flesh of his fingers like a glove. I cannot make the first mark. He tried to focus but his eyes continually slipped back off the paper, sliding across it without the anchor of a black brushstroke.
Then he became angry. He was a doctor, an aristocrat, intimidated by the silent regard of a man whose language he imperfectly understood. A dead stroke? Was he at fault for not understanding? No one could understand. It was a trick, a puzzle.
He glanced at Xiansheng, aware that his expression was defiant. He thinks I'm a barbarian.
Xiansheng answered his look. "When I was young and studying calligraphy, my teacher took away my brush to help me."
The Baron was confused. "No brush?"
"I had practiced and practiced. Many considered my brushwork excellent. But my mind was unsettled. My teacher quoted the Taoist master calligraphist Yu Shi'nan: 'In the transformation of his mind, the calligrapher borrows the brush. It is not the brush that works the miracle.' He instructed me to write the characters without a brush, to only imagine using it. I did as he said. My teacher was unable to tell if I had followed his direction, but my hand became freer."
The words seemed simple, but as the Baron struggled to understand them, their meaning became more dense and tangled.
"The brush isn't the tool. A famous calligrapher used a brush the size of a cabbage."
By the time he translated this sentence, the Baron was smiling, pulled from the web of his thought. The spring wound inside him loosened. Uncoiled. His hands relaxed and the brush made its first mark, luo bi, on paper. (p. 159-160)
"Ink has been made from the same materials for hundreds of years. A hole is carved into the base of a pine tree. A small lamp is fit inside . The heat of the lamp encourages the resin to flow from the tree. After the resin has been drained, the tree is cut down and burned for several days in a kiln. The black soot is scraped from the kiln walls and mixed with glue made from animal hide or fish skin to make the ink. The different qualities of ink depend on the type of pine or fir that was burned. A skilled eye can distinguish between them. The finest ink is dongquan, made with dark amber-colored glue, molded into sticks, and elaborately carved. Rich men hoard these ink sticks like jade and never use them."
"I know the words for pine-soot ink. Songyan mo," said the Baron.
Xiansheng had gradually introduced the different brushstrokes used in calligraphy so as not to overwhelm his student. Always hold the brush vertically. Stroke it left to right, top to bottom. "Master calligraphists have described the three characteristic brushstrokes for calligraphy and painting. Long strokes are bones, muscles are short strokes, flesh forms the connecting strokes."
The Baron learned by copying, tracing the characters faintly visible on a second paper underneath the top sheet. He touched the brush to the ink. Every muscle in his back held him tense as he worked the brush. His fingers strained and tightened. He criticized himself. Frustrated and angry, he set the brush down.
Teacher offered little comfort when his student struggled but he acknowledged the decision to stop with a nod of approval. He waited in silence until he had the Baron's full attention. "There are beautiful ways to describe the act of writing," he said. "Li Ssu, a master who created a style of calligraphy wrote, 'When you swing the strokes outward it is as if the clouds were rising from behind the mountain.'" After a moment, he recited another quote. "'A vertical stroke should resemble the stem of a dried vine myriad years old. A horizontal brushstroke should resemble a could a thousand miles long.'"
How could such a concentration of information be deciphered from small black lines? The Baron's focus wandered. He recollected a singing lesson when he was a child in which his music teacher instructed him by using metaphor after metaphor. Sing as if your lips were soft as a cushion. Weightless. First, think the sound, because once it leaves your throat it's too late. After a moment of hesitation, the Baron loaded the brush with ink. How simple to hold a brush. Not simple.
A brushstroke must be simultaneously spontaneous and deliberate. His awareness became joined to the movement of his hand wielding the brush as he wrote the first character, then another. He completed a line. He squinted at the brushstrokes he'd just made on the paper. Xiansheng made the slightest gesture of approval.
The intensity and anxiety of the lessons sometimes left the Baron exhausted. Occasionally, he felt a lightness, a growing exhilaration, but suspected even this state wouldn't have met with Xiansheng's approval. His teacher wanted something indefinable and elusive, and the Baron failed to understand this mysterious demand. (p. 247-249)
Teacher studied him solemnly and suggested tea, although it was an enormous breach of courtesy for a guest to make this request of a host. They moved to an adjoining room and a servant, accompanied by the sharp clink of porcelain cups on a tray, carried in the necessities. They were safe, drinking from cups that warmed their hands until they were ready for the lesson.
Calligraphy began with the familiar preparations. Fine goose-white paper, readied on the table. Ink stick, inkstand, brushes. A tall container of water.
The lesson was a single character, qi, representing breath, air, vapor, floating, expanding, and also spirit, vital force. When Xiansheng pronounced the word qi, it sounded like the release of breath. An exhale.
A smooth scratch as Teacher's hand moved quickly, his brush painting the character, which combined wavy curved lines, representing the breath, and mi, the character for rice or grain, representing sustenance. The Baron watched, gradually conscious that the man focused from a knot of stillness that he could never hope to experience in his own body.
Finished. Teacher straightened to study his writing on the paper. "The character qi is also described as the invisible presence of the calligrapher's spirit. But it cannot be deliberately placed in a work. It's only recognized by those who possess the right qualities." (p. 265-266)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 3, 2018
**Thank you Little, Brown & Company for my free final copy in exchange for my review. All opinions are my own.**
“Someone coughed intermittently. He sensed the contamination that haunted the room, filled the thickness of the air, was layered on every surface, spread across his open eyes, entered his nose, his body. It was constant, invisible, like a vibration of music. Each bed held danger. His breath became irregular and he began to sweat in his bulky coverall. Certain he was using up a lifetime of blessings, he swore never to put himself at risk again if he escaped infection this time. This clarity shook him. He whispered, “God have mercy. Gospodi-pomiluy,” as if these words were a charm against the plague.”
Based on actual events from 1910 in the Russian-ruled city of Kharbin, a kind of “hub city”, people are succumbing to a mysterious plague in epidemic proportions. The Baron, an aristocratic Russian doctor and the city’s medical commissioner, is fighting against time to figure out a way to contain the disease before it spreads around the world.
I didn’t expect to be captured by this book as much as I was. Admittedly, there were times where I felt a little bored, but as I continued to read, I realized that the author (Jody Shields) had to lay the groundwork in order for the story to earn credibility and to emphasize all the pieces that contributed to this terrifying time in history.
Because of the Ebola outbreak in 2014, I feel like I could quickly identify the limitations the Russians were facing. We have the ability to communicate quickly through phones, internet, 24-hr news channels, and social media. Their communication was very limited; in fact, the Russian officials at times refused to give the people information about the epidemic sweeping their region. There were many reasons for this: medical knowledge just simply wasn’t what it is now, political strategy, and fear.
“The plague has a brilliant strategy,” he said. “It hides so those who are infected spread the bacilli to others without suspicion. It’s a Trojan horse.”
This wasn’t a character-driven story. It was very slow moving, but in a way that explained the many angles at play. I kept imagining myself living in a time where there wasn’t widespread information. Everyone must have lived with such fear – who would be infected next? What was spreading this disease? How do you catch it? How do you avoid it?
I loved the characters in this story; they were so richly developed. There was a bit of A Gentleman in Moscow vibe to the story, but I’m not sure if I just made that connection because this was set near the Russian border. Even so, the writing somewhat reminded me of that book as well.
Overall I enjoyed this book. A slow burn is nice change of pace sometimes. If anything, the Ebola outbreak proves that we are still very cautious when it comes to the spreading of diseases and, while we know so much more than we used to, there are some things beyond human control.
“Someone coughed intermittently. He sensed the contamination that haunted the room, filled the thickness of the air, was layered on every surface, spread across his open eyes, entered his nose, his body. It was constant, invisible, like a vibration of music. Each bed held danger. His breath became irregular and he began to sweat in his bulky coverall. Certain he was using up a lifetime of blessings, he swore never to put himself at risk again if he escaped infection this time. This clarity shook him. He whispered, “God have mercy. Gospodi-pomiluy,” as if these words were a charm against the plague.”
Based on actual events from 1910 in the Russian-ruled city of Kharbin, a kind of “hub city”, people are succumbing to a mysterious plague in epidemic proportions. The Baron, an aristocratic Russian doctor and the city’s medical commissioner, is fighting against time to figure out a way to contain the disease before it spreads around the world.
I didn’t expect to be captured by this book as much as I was. Admittedly, there were times where I felt a little bored, but as I continued to read, I realized that the author (Jody Shields) had to lay the groundwork in order for the story to earn credibility and to emphasize all the pieces that contributed to this terrifying time in history.
Because of the Ebola outbreak in 2014, I feel like I could quickly identify the limitations the Russians were facing. We have the ability to communicate quickly through phones, internet, 24-hr news channels, and social media. Their communication was very limited; in fact, the Russian officials at times refused to give the people information about the epidemic sweeping their region. There were many reasons for this: medical knowledge just simply wasn’t what it is now, political strategy, and fear.
“The plague has a brilliant strategy,” he said. “It hides so those who are infected spread the bacilli to others without suspicion. It’s a Trojan horse.”
This wasn’t a character-driven story. It was very slow moving, but in a way that explained the many angles at play. I kept imagining myself living in a time where there wasn’t widespread information. Everyone must have lived with such fear – who would be infected next? What was spreading this disease? How do you catch it? How do you avoid it?
I loved the characters in this story; they were so richly developed. There was a bit of A Gentleman in Moscow vibe to the story, but I’m not sure if I just made that connection because this was set near the Russian border. Even so, the writing somewhat reminded me of that book as well.
Overall I enjoyed this book. A slow burn is nice change of pace sometimes. If anything, the Ebola outbreak proves that we are still very cautious when it comes to the spreading of diseases and, while we know so much more than we used to, there are some things beyond human control.
February 25, 2018
In a world where poverty and ethnicity are a death sentence, the taunt and compelling The Winter Station slides Russian-Chinese tension under a microscope. Jody Shields' novel is a captivating read is based on a true story, a mysterious plague spreads during the winter of 1910 in a Russian controlled outpost in Chinese territory.
The main character, the Baron, takes on the mantle trying to solve the plague long before the government is willing to acknowledge publicly there is an epidemic. He is hindered by his outspoken sympathy for the poverty stricken Chinese patients, as the Russian population treat others with scorn, with the Chinese employed as laborers or as servants in aristocratic homes. It's jarring for a modern readers to hear the overt racism, as the Baron and a select few are the exception. When he interviews the daughter of a wealthy Russian merchant who died from the plague, inquiries about the household servants is met with perplexity.
"It wasn't my concern to know anything about them."
"Even their names?"
"Their names? They're Chinese."
The dialogue driven novel is compelled forward by the character interactions rather than drama, but the pace slows in areas where Shields provides lengthy descriptions, particularly of calligraphy sessions or tea ceremonies. They first description of the events is captivating and the meditative quality experienced by the characters is felt by the reader, but repeated multiple times the story slows to a crawl. A lover of lists, Shields will catalogue items at length: trinkets on a shelf, parcels from a shopping trip, food on a table. The Winter Station shines when examining the complexities of a city of extremes; Shields places political, ethnic, and economic tension under a microscope, studying the complexities of a city on the edge of Imperial Russia. While the emotional and mental underpinnings of the supporting characters are not explored, the fear and isolation felt by the Baron is tangible and ever increasing, eventually becoming an obsession.
As plague ravages the city, only the wealthiest are guaranteed a means of survival, purchasing their freedom or using bribery for basic supplies. The poorest non-Russians are treated as if they are subhuman and akin to cattle. Remembering that The Winter Station is based on a true story, the political heavy handedness and the quarantine methods described will haunt you long after you finish the last page.
The main character, the Baron, takes on the mantle trying to solve the plague long before the government is willing to acknowledge publicly there is an epidemic. He is hindered by his outspoken sympathy for the poverty stricken Chinese patients, as the Russian population treat others with scorn, with the Chinese employed as laborers or as servants in aristocratic homes. It's jarring for a modern readers to hear the overt racism, as the Baron and a select few are the exception. When he interviews the daughter of a wealthy Russian merchant who died from the plague, inquiries about the household servants is met with perplexity.
"It wasn't my concern to know anything about them."
"Even their names?"
"Their names? They're Chinese."
The dialogue driven novel is compelled forward by the character interactions rather than drama, but the pace slows in areas where Shields provides lengthy descriptions, particularly of calligraphy sessions or tea ceremonies. They first description of the events is captivating and the meditative quality experienced by the characters is felt by the reader, but repeated multiple times the story slows to a crawl. A lover of lists, Shields will catalogue items at length: trinkets on a shelf, parcels from a shopping trip, food on a table. The Winter Station shines when examining the complexities of a city of extremes; Shields places political, ethnic, and economic tension under a microscope, studying the complexities of a city on the edge of Imperial Russia. While the emotional and mental underpinnings of the supporting characters are not explored, the fear and isolation felt by the Baron is tangible and ever increasing, eventually becoming an obsession.
As plague ravages the city, only the wealthiest are guaranteed a means of survival, purchasing their freedom or using bribery for basic supplies. The poorest non-Russians are treated as if they are subhuman and akin to cattle. Remembering that The Winter Station is based on a true story, the political heavy handedness and the quarantine methods described will haunt you long after you finish the last page.
April 24, 2021
This is worth no more than zero stars.
Totally worthless piece of pure pantsed slice of crap life.
There is NO plot. There is no point. The book just stopped with no logical end.
Loose ends abound in the middle too.
This book is just meaningless description which while appearing correct has deep errors.
But there are way too many illogical and improbable events as well as many lacking any motivation or reason except to help put words on a page with something.
The start was slow and dull. It was downhill from there. I still hoped for something meaningful at the halfway point but it was never to happen.
Way too much unbelievable stuff that just does not fit. And way too many illogical things abound. Compounded with continuity errors.
SPAG only had a couple of problems, and grammar was mostly correct.
The characters were blah with nothing to make you interested in them.
Chapters were waaay too long.
Parts of the descriptions were confusing.
Some names were confusing.
There was a useless city map in the front. And it did not fit the descriptions later.
A larger map of Manchuria would have helped more.
Much of the book was borderline fantasy not believeable nor real.
A few too convenient coincidences.
Some factual errors.
I paid a buck for it at the dollar store so I read the whole thing. Only been one other book this bad that I did not finish so this book is not the worst ever but only runner up.
If I did not need something to read while I eat I would watch reruns on TV instead of reading stuff like this.
This sort of novel proves that pantsing is a total fail no matter how much you research details for description of the setting.
This book made me jot down more notes about problems than any other one. Possibly if I had finished that other stinker it would have had more.
I did get a Jason Bourne book at the dollar store so I am looking forward to having something better to read next time. And to be honest, the dollar store books are the remainders of remainders which are one step from being pulped for recycling so I always expect crap like Winter Station but hoping for the occasional good novel to read.
Totally worthless piece of pure pantsed slice of crap life.
There is NO plot. There is no point. The book just stopped with no logical end.
Loose ends abound in the middle too.
This book is just meaningless description which while appearing correct has deep errors.
But there are way too many illogical and improbable events as well as many lacking any motivation or reason except to help put words on a page with something.
The start was slow and dull. It was downhill from there. I still hoped for something meaningful at the halfway point but it was never to happen.
Way too much unbelievable stuff that just does not fit. And way too many illogical things abound. Compounded with continuity errors.
SPAG only had a couple of problems, and grammar was mostly correct.
The characters were blah with nothing to make you interested in them.
Chapters were waaay too long.
Parts of the descriptions were confusing.
Some names were confusing.
There was a useless city map in the front. And it did not fit the descriptions later.
A larger map of Manchuria would have helped more.
Much of the book was borderline fantasy not believeable nor real.
A few too convenient coincidences.
Some factual errors.
I paid a buck for it at the dollar store so I read the whole thing. Only been one other book this bad that I did not finish so this book is not the worst ever but only runner up.
If I did not need something to read while I eat I would watch reruns on TV instead of reading stuff like this.
This sort of novel proves that pantsing is a total fail no matter how much you research details for description of the setting.
This book made me jot down more notes about problems than any other one. Possibly if I had finished that other stinker it would have had more.
I did get a Jason Bourne book at the dollar store so I am looking forward to having something better to read next time. And to be honest, the dollar store books are the remainders of remainders which are one step from being pulped for recycling so I always expect crap like Winter Station but hoping for the occasional good novel to read.
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