Das Labyrinth der Welt

by Ross King

Im Jahre 1660 erhält der Buchhändler Isaac Inchbold eines Tages den geheimnisvollen Brief einer Lady Marchamont, in der sie ihn bittet, zwecks eines Auftrags mit einer für ihn bereitstehenden Kutsche zu ihr zu kommen. Keine ungewöhnliche Bitte, denkt der Buchhändler, doch was soll das im Brief gemachte Versprechen, dass ihm keine Schwierigkeit drohen? Und warum wurde das Siegel des Briefes erbrochen und der Inhalt unerlaubterweise kontrolliert?

Auf dem verfallenen Landsitz der Adeligen erhält Inchbold von der Lady den Auftrag, ein sehr seltenes Exemplar aus der Bibliothek ihres Vaters für sie wiederzubeschaffen. Es handelt sich um ein 14-seitiges Pergament mit dem Titel "Das Labyrinth der Welt", ein Buch aus dem geheimnisumwitterten Opus Hermeticus. Der Auftrag ist nicht ungefährlich, Vater und Ehemann der Frau haben für dieses Buch bereits mit dem Leben bezahlt. Trotzdem unterschätzt Inchbold die Tragweite dieses Auftrags. Bereits kurze Zeit später ersteigert er auf einer inoffiziellen obskuren Buchauktion in einer verkommenen Londoner Spelunke ein ähnlich geheimnisvolles, verbotenes Buch. Im Katalog des Auktionators findet er dann tatsächlich das gesuchte Buch und scheint schon fast am Ziel. Doch dies ist erst der Anfang eines turbulenten Intrigenwirrwarrs, denn in der Zwischenzeit wurde sein Laden verwüstet, und eines Nachts entkommt er in seinen eigenen vier Wänden nur knapp einigen Männern, die ihn offensichtlich aufspüren wollen.

Die Suche nach dem geheimnisvollen Buch entpuppt sich als ein Wespenstich in eine Welt von Turbulenzen, die von Spionen und Spitzeln, Alchimisten und Gelehrten, Ketzern und Inquisitoren bevölkert ist. Das literarische Abenteuer hat den weltfremden Büchernarr, der sich zudem noch mit einem Klumpfuß herumquält, in ein politisches Ränkespiel verschlagen, und schon bald findet er sich zwischen den Fronten eines bibliomanen Verfolgungswahns, bei der die Inhalte von Büchern gefährliche politische Waffen darstellen.

Das Labyrinth der Welt ist ein Buch über sagenumwobene Bibliotheken, die wie unbekannte Länder beschworen werden, es herrscht die magische Stimmung von unbekanntem Wissen, das von abtrünnigen Mönchen, Hexenmeistern, wahnsinnigen Kabbalisten oder ganz einfach fortschrittlichen Rationalisten verfasst wurde, das allerdings weniger als okkulter Hokuspokus, sondern als Politikum beschrieben wird. Im Mittelpunkt stehen nämlich nur die Gerüchte um die Geheimnisse verbotener Bücher: So beschreibt das Corpus hermeticum ein "gesamtes Universum, einen magischen Ort, an dem sämtliche Bestandteile, [...], das Garn eines unaufhörlich strahlenden Gewebes bildeten, in dem jedes einzelne Atom mit jedem anderen Atom verbunden sei[...]. Diese erstaunlichen Einflüsse könnten mit Hilfe geheimer Zeichen [...] aufgespürt und genutzt werden". Diese wahnwitzig anmutenden Zauberkräfte mit Hilfe okkulten Wissens wird als politischer Machtpoker, vergleichbar dem Bestreben der Alchimisten, Gold zu gewinnen, beschrieben. So ist das Buch auch ein authentisches politisches Sittengemälde jener Zeit, denn mit einer Referenz auf erfundene oder authentische verbotene Schriften sind die Ereignisse um die politische Vorherrschaft zwischen Spanien und England kunstvoll verwoben, so dass man das Gefühl hat, die Hauptfigur würde einmal mehr längst bekannte Ereignisse rekapitulieren.

Das Labyrinth der Welt ist eine flüssig und schnörkellos geschriebene okkulte Kriminalgeschichte um verbotenes Wissen, das die machtbessessenen Intrigen hoch gestellter Politiker und Königsgetreuer offenbart. --Christoph Steven

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Books About Books, Mystery, Historical, Historical Mystery, Novels

477 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1998

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.

Ross King (born July 16, 1962) is a Canadian novelist and non-fiction writer. He began his career by writing two works of historical fiction in the 1990s, later turning to non-fiction, and has since written several critically acclaimed and best-selling historical works.

King was born in Estevan, Saskatchewan, Canada and was raised in the nearby village of North Portal. He received his undergraduate university education at the University of Regina, where in 1984 he completed a Bachelor of Arts (Honours) degree in English Literature. Continuing his studies at the University of Regina, he received a Master of Arts degree in 1986 upon completing a thesis on the poet T.S. Eliot. Later he achieved a Ph.D. from York University in Toronto (1992), where he specialized eighteenth-century English literature.

King moved to England to take up a position as a post-doctoral research fellow at University College, London. It was at this time that he began writing his first novel.

For Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling, King was nominated in 2003 for a National Book Critics Circle Award. Brunelleschi’s Dome was on the bestseller lists of the New York Times, the Boston Globe and the San Francisco Chronicle, and was the recipient of several awards including the 2000 Book Sense Nonfiction Book of the Year.

He lectures frequently in both Europe and North America, and has given guided tours of the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence and of the Sistine Chapel in Rome.

King currently lives in Woodstock, England with his wife Melanie

Reviews

[Colleen · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is a rare example of a book that starts out well and gets more and more boring and confusing as it goes on. The author wrote non-fiction before this and it shows in Ex-Libris. He appears to have gotten carried away with his research and recounts the entire history of the world up until 1660. He drops names and events and years and I sat there scratching my head and saying, "Huh?" And I like history! The one bright spot in this book is the character, Isaac Inchbold. He is a feisty old man who sheds his quiet, sedate lifestyle for a bit of excitement (in spite of himself). He tries not to get drawn into the mystery, but can't help himself. As for the plot...well, I couldn't tell you what it was about. I kept reading, hoping that things would be explained as I neared the end but they weren't. I don't know who the bad guys were, what mysterious book they were after, or how it was resolved in the end (if it even was). Wouldn't recommend this to anyone unless you need help falling asleep!

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love historical fiction, particularly when, as in Ross King's case, a mystery is involved. Ex-Libris was a satisfying, and rewarding read for at least 300 of it's 392 pages (Paperback Edition). I have read many books involving English history, still, I feel Ex-Libris painted a picture more vividly of life in the mid-1600's.

Without giving anything away, or not much anyway, Ex-Libris is a story set in the disastrous years of and after English Reformation. There are two stories entwined together in the story, they run parallel to eachother but are decades apart. Both stories center in the search for a missing text, one of greater value than the reader can imagine at first.

I enjoyed the introspective pace of the narrator Isaac Inchbold. His accounts of life on London Bridge were enlightening, and convincingly authentic, the sites and smells and cricks and creeks are all lushly delivered. Fans of historical fiction will lap these details up.

I wonder, however, if Ross King prefers narration to dialogue, for I felt the story was lacking in the latter, and when it did occur, it sounded versed in the same tongue as narration, every character exactly as eloquent as the next. I probably wouldn't mention such an incongruity, or even write a review for this book at all if it hadn't been for the way the book ends.

Ex-Libris is recommended in the same breath, with almost all reviewers, with the works of Umberto Eco, Arturo Perez-Reverte, and Iain Pears, which is good company no doubt. But I felt some of the comparisons are too obvious. Our hero (or, anti-hero, in Mr. Inchbold's defense he is clumsy and club-footed) spends a waning chapter on deciphering a cryptic jumble of letters he finds, and, while he does solve it's peculiar riddle, it hardly seems important. It seems, in the deja vu sense, a tribute to Umberto Eco's intricate novel Foucualt's Pendulum and little more.

The story also suffers slightly from esoteric name-dropping, not of seventeenth century personalities but of Hermetic texts from up to three hundred years previous to this story. If the reader is not familiar with the works of Cornelius Agrippa, Blaise de Vignenère, Böhmen or Fincino will that reader feel confused or muddled? No, I did not and do not know the few names I just plucked out of Ex-Libris, but I never felt I was missing intricate details of the story, I felt instead that I was trekking briskly uphill to reach a destination that I increasingly demanded better-be-worth-it with each trudging step. The book is peppered with bibliophiles, there doesn't seem to be anyone in post-Cromwell England (according to Ex-Libris) who is not extremely well read.

It is the ending that upset me the most, it is the ending that prompts me to write this review. Now, how do I do this without giving anything crucial away... It seems the last chapter was reserved to tie so loosely the hundreds of shreds that kept us plugging along. It was the most improbable finale I can think of. And in the midst of life threatening turmoil, two characters intellectually pander all the conclusions as they run for their very lives. It's more ridiculous than even that, I promise you, but I don't want to give away the preposterous details.

Here is the worst part, and this is safe territory, for it is mentioned on the very last page but does not give anything dreadful away. The narrator sits in his bookshop on London Bridge many years later in the Epilogue, and he mentions the passing years by saying "...even now, in the Year of Our Lord 1700..." and all the while he is staring out a window of his bookshop on London Bridge! (I know I repeated that twice, but I had to). Now, I was flabbergasted when I read that, insulted and disgusted. Most any amateur of English history, I am by no means an expert, knows that the Great Fire that devastated London (known also as "London's Fire") started in a bakery on London Bridge in 1666. September First, I just looked it up to make sure. The fire, fueled by an unusual early morning wind, tore apart London. It is disturbing that Ross King, who knows much more about
Seventeenth-Century London than I am likely to ever know, by-passed this alarming detail.

The question remains, after all of my directionless rambling, do I recommend this book or not? I do. I think the details about the time, the rich scope described deliciously in four senses is worth reading. And the ending, while unforgivable, does not merit abolition of the story that precedes it.

Great Story - Ridiculous Ending

[John · Rating 2 out of 5]

The author of Brunelleschi's Dome might have done better. The comparison of this overwrought intellectual mystery to Eco's The Name of the Rose is sad misinformation for the reader. Anachronisms and the repetitive use of "rumours" and "gossip" to give information about far too complicated a plot are distracting, and the action drawing the, by now weary, reader is not credible. Read his "Dome" and then reread Eco.

[Ryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I know a couple of other people who tried to get through this and found it underwhelming, but I truly enjoyed it. I just came across it as I was cleaning off a shelf and recalled how intriguing I found it. I have not generally been one for the "detective" genre. However, this book is so cleverly written and weaves so much of the culture of the late Renaissance, with particular emphasis on the widespread development of printing and book-trading, into its story. There are a lot of off-the-wall Latin references, which made me laugh. I think I most enjoyed that the mystery itself was wrapped up in the use of language and how it could be solved with the right selection of information from different ancient tomes. A fairly raucous description of life in London especially in this era. A really fun one!

[Kristina · Rating 3 out of 5]

This journey into 17th century England was very well researched and the author palpably provided the reader with all the smells, sights, and sanitation one expects from history! The protagonist was likable and real with his heroics being well-intentioned if not actually performed. And there were books, lots and lots of books! For those reasons, this was worth three stars. Unfortunately, the plot really did ramble, descending almost into downright boredom at one point. And the ending felt forced which was disappointing because I felt Mr. Inchbold deserved more. Overall, this novel had numerous intriguing moments but ultimately felt flat as many believed the world to be not all that long ago...

[Jason Edwards · Rating 3 out of 5]

Boring. I'm sorry, but it was tough for me to get through this. Essentially a detective novel, which is why I managed to finish, as I wanted to see the mystery resolved. But it was just so thick with history, rife with the kind of esoteria that only a historian could enjoy. So some people will really enjoy this one. Whereas some folks read for plot, and some read for the clever language, Ex Libris is a novel full of stuff. That Ross King write mostly non-fiction is no surprise at all.

I only picked this up at all because of all the comparisons made to it and The Shadow of the Wind. Well, I'm here to tell you those comparisons are not very accurate-- similarities are meager at best. I imagine there are people who have a fervent love for books, not the reading of books, or stories, but of books themselves, of the artifacts and objects that books make up. (You know, those sorts of people who would wrinkle their noses at the mention of an e-reader.) These people would probably simply love Ex-Libris. Because it's a book "about books," and that's more or less where similarities with The Shadow of the Wind begins and ends.

Go ahead and grab a copy, like I did, from your local library. I mean, it's not horrible. I found it dull, and it took me longer to get through than it should have, but that's my own failing, and might not be yours. Read it with Wikipedia ready to go in front of you and maybe you can have fun with all the history. Call me shallow. But when you get to the end, and the deus ex machina piles up and piles up, tell me if wading through the whole novel was worth that kind of pay-off.

[E.J. Stevens · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ex Libris opens in the year 1660 with the character of Isaac Inchbold, widower and proprietor of Nonesuch Books located upon London Bridge. Isaac Inchbold, an agoraphobic London bookseller, is happily going about his sheltered existence when he receives a mysterious letter from an even more mysterious Lady Marchamont. Upon his summons to Pontifex Hall Inchbold learns that Lady Marchamont wishes him to begin a search for the manuscript The Labyrinth of the World. Inchbold surprises himself by accepting the Lady's commission and embarks on an adventure full of assassins, crypts, political intrigue, and secret codes.

[Eden Prosper · Rating 5 out of 5]

Many of the critical reviews of Ex-Libris lament its slow pace, tedium, and obscurity. Yet, ironically, it was precisely this novel that yanked me out of my reading slump. Honestly, I’m somewhat baffled by the low reviews, finding them at such odds with my own reading experience. I was utterly captivated by the prose; reminiscent of Iain Pears and Umberto Eco, it’s rich with Victorian Gothic atmosphere, evocative descriptions, seafaring voyages and a masterfully restrained, slow-burning narrative that drew me in with quiet intensity. Had I not been so consumed by the demands of life, I could have easily devoured it in a couple days. It was a work deserving of indulgent pacing anyhow, I found myself reluctant for it to ever come to an end.

Set against the smoldering backdrop of post–Civil War England and the splintered courts of Europe, King introduces us to Isaac Inchbold, a mild-mannered London bookseller whose bibliophilic sensibilities render him ill-prepared for the perilous commission he receives: to retrieve a missing, possibly heretical manuscript. But as Inchbold ventures from the cloistered comfort of his bookshop into a world riddled with deception and occult symbolism, the novel broadens into something grander; a commentary on the epistemological uncertainties of an age where science, religion, and mysticism vied for supremacy.

I had an unpleasant sensation between my shoulder-blades, as if some great bird had perched there and was slowly champing its beak and unfolding a pair of sooty wings. There was something sinister and dangerous about the way the houses in Seething Lane, beyond the gate, seem to crouch together in the darkness. - page 197

The prose is meticulously detailed and deliciously archaic in tone; crafted to evoke the cadence and intellectual atmosphere of the 17th century, King’s language is scholarly yet never indulgent, balancing historical authenticity with narrative propulsion. His sentences unfold in long, carefully wrought constructions that mirror the complexity of the world he depicts; one teetering between superstition and science, theology and empiricism.

Descriptive passages are vivid and tactile, particularly when concerning books, artifacts, or locations, lending the text a bibliophilic sensuality.

As I moved towards the shelves I could see that many of the volumes—or their bindings at least—were of considerable value. Here were fine morocco leathers of every colour, some gold-tooled or embroidered, others decorated with jewels and precious metals. A number of the vellums had buckled, it was true, and the morocco had lost a little of its lustre, but there were no defects that a little cedar wood oil and lanolin couldn’t mend. And the jewels alone—what looked to my expert eye like rubies, moonstones and lapis lazuli—must have been worth a small fortune. -page 21

There is also a deep musicality to the prose; a rhythm that invites slow reading and rewards attentiveness, it’s the very type of literature that checks all the boxes for me and I truly could not put it down.

At the heart of the novel is the missing text, The Labyrinthus Mundi, a fictional Hermetic manuscript whose very existence challenges religious orthodoxy. I felt the manuscript stood as kind of a relic and riddle; a cipher of Gnostic longing that hinted that truth is neither obvious nor accessible, but hidden, sacred, and only decipherable through a fusion of devotion, intellect, and transgressive curiosity.

I also felt that the title of the manuscript itself, The Labyrinthus Mundi (The Labyrinth of the World), functioned as a resonant analogy for the novel’s moral and intellectual terrain and echoed the serpentine path its protagonist, Isaac Inchbold, must tread. It seemed to evoke the ancient symbolism of the labyrinth as not only a place of confusion, but as a rite of passage, albeit a disorienting passage, through obscurity toward hard-won clarity. This was not a maze to be escaped, but more so a structure to be understood. While reading, I felt Inchbold’s journey was my own, as we were both ensnared in a narrative of layered enigmas, where meaning emerged only through persistence, pattern, and the slow illumination of insight.

The Latin phrase Littera scripta manet (the written word abides) reoccured throughout the story, and served as both affirmation and irony. It evoked the enduring authority of text, yet the novel revealed how permanence can be deceptive; words may survive, but their meanings are mutable, obscured, or deliberately manipulated. In a world where truth is contested, the phrase became a quiet warning: what is written may endure, but not always in service of truth.

Books such as those of Galileo and Copernicus were meant to stir up debates among scholars and astronomers, he insisted, to challenge old prejudices and enlighten the ignorant, to work towards a great insaturation of knowledge. Whatever wisdom they might possess became dangerous only when it was hidden away from the rest of the world—hidden away by the secretive few who, like the cardinals in the Holy Office, wished to rule like tyrants over the many. -page 106

There’s a persistent tension that courses through Ex-Libris between the printed word (public, regulated, and broadly disseminated) and the arcane realm of esoteric knowledge, passed in hushed voices or encrypted manuscripts, hidden from the uninitiated. This opposition mimics the ideological rift of the era; the rise of print as a democratizing force clashing with the entrenched power of those who guarded sacred truths as the province of the few. The novel captures this struggle as a deeper meditation on the nature of knowledge itself, whether it should enlighten the many or remain veiled, preserved for those deemed “worthy”by intellect, station, or fate.

Today, we witness the deliberate spread of misinformation and disinformation, not just from fringe actors but often from within the corridors of power. Governments and political figures selectively release, distort, or suppress information to shape public perception, discredit opposition, and maintain control over national narratives.

This is significant to the novel’s portrayal of knowledge as a contested space: truth is not simply revealed; it is constructed, obscured, or reshaped to serve ideological ends. Authoritarian tendencies within ostensibly democratic systems now operate through soft censorship by undermining the press, delegitimizing scientific expertise, and flooding public discourse with contradictory narratives until objective truth becomes murky or irrelevant.

Ex-Libris unfolds as an intricate tapestry of hidden histories, its subplots threaded with allusions to Hermeticism, Galileo, Rosicrucian mysticism, and the arcane traditions of the Renaissance. In its labyrinthine narrative, the novel gestures toward a broader cultural reckoning; the rising urgency to recover voices long excluded from the official record, whether feminist, indigenous, or non-Western. In an age shaped by digital humanities and archival activism, it reminds us that history is not fixed but authored, its contours drawn by those with the power to preserve or erase. To read this novel is to participate in a subtle act of resistance; to question not only what we know of the past, but how we came to know it, and whose truths have yet to be told.

[Avid Series Reader · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ex-Libris by Ross King is set in England in 1660, with a parallel plot line in 1620. Bookseller Isaac Inchbold owns Nonsuch Books on London Bridge. He lives above the shop; it's been his whole life: from apprentice in 1635 to owner. Inchbold prefers a quiet life, out of the noise, smell and bustle of crowds. But he is sufficiently intrigued by a cryptic letter from a potential client to travel to Dorsetshire. He assumes he will inventory, then sell an estate library.

It's an arduous 3-day trip by coach with a taciturn driver; countryside, weather, physical discomfort minutely described. Pontifex Hall is in utter ruin, the extensive library a shambles, many books completely destroyed by rot. Widow Alethea provides a lengthy description of family history against a backdrop of the world's religious and political events, before getting to the task: recover a specific rare book that had belonged to her father, Sir Ambrose Plessington. She hints at conspiracies, rivalries and danger; Inchbold must reveal the details of his quest to no one.

As he checks the usual rare-book sources in London, Inchbold begins experiencing odd incidents, and uncovers clues sufficient to convince him of a conspiracy. He moves to alternate dwellings to throw off pursuit; researches historical records. Inchbold almost but doesn't quite see the three horsemen in gold and black livery who follow his movements.

In 1620, a conquering army overtakes Prague Castle in the depth of winter. Sir Ambrose Plessington packs up King Frederick's extensive world-famous library, to avoid its capture and destruction by fanatics in Rome. With Plessington on the grueling evacuation trek are castle librarian Vilem Jirasek and Emilia, handmaiden to Queen Elizabeth. They suffer tremendous difficulties and setbacks, including shipwreck. Always in pursuit are three horsemen in gold and black livery.

Treachery, deception, Plessington, the 3 horsemen, and overwhelming details of religious and political history are common to both plot lines. Slow going for a reader, yet with delightful prose gems; my favorites: "Outside, the bridge had fallen silent except for the outgoing tide chuckling between its piers." and "Eight o'clock. Morning came creeping across London in pale-pink and pearl-gray veins of light."

Unclear to a non-historian reader where fact yields to fiction in this religious and political history lesson. A creepy description of the most treasured 'paper' is fact, according to Wikipedia: "Vellum, made from the skins of unborn calves, as many as 50 per volume. Calves were skinned and carefully bled, then flayed of their delicate hides."

[Megan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Backstory: Once I was seven years old. My mom didn't tell me anything about making friends or being lonely (terribly attempted musical reference) but I very often visited the library and took home more books than the librarians assumed I could read within the given week. And just once this was true. I started a book--an epic book--but then had to return it before I had finished the third chapter. They wouldn't let me recheck it because it was being requested at another library. I never saw that book again. Nor could I remember it's title, but I have never stopped looking for it.

A few years ago, while shopping for an ex-libris stamp a vague memory surfaced in which it seemed to me that Ex-Libris might very well be the title of my long lost book. All I could recall for sure were secret letters and a dark library. But I did some research. And so, I finally purchased King's Ex-Libris and immediately read the first three chapters.

I do believe that this is the book I began as a child, but I think that, in my mental recall over the years, I mashed it up with Kate Mosse's Labyrinth. Because I seemed to remember secret society rituals and a hidden passage in the library of my long lost book, which never appeared in Ex-Libris (is there a hidden library passage in Labyrinth?) Nevertheless, it was a good read. The storytelling felt disconnected at times, as it switched between characters/time periods, and I would have appreciated either more or less resolution with the final revelations. As it stands, I felt unresolved. But I do feel that my noble quest has finally come to an end, and seven year-old me is very pleased.

[Jeff · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another book about books! Just can't get enough of these. This one by King is really interesting. It's set in the 17th Century, and King's descriptions of the city of London and the English country side are vivid and life like. For me, the book also has a very gothic feel to it. Rather Poe-like at times. I loved King's depictions of Lady Marchamont, Pontifex Hall, etc. Lots of descriptions of antique volumes, with extended lists of titles on library shelves. Wonderful! In some places it read more like a history book than a novel. Lengthy discussions of New World exploration and discovery, ships, maps, and navigation, etc. Very little dialogue in these sections. I guess that would turn off many readers, but I found it to be fascinating. Over all I found it be a great read, one that I couldn't put down. Vivid imagery that has stuck with me. Loved the gothic overtones, and of course all those books.

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am a sucker for novels set in England or about the Brits in other lands. This tale features both scenarios. A cryptic summons to a remote country house launches Isaac Inchbold, a London bookseller and antiquarian, on an odyssey through seventeenth-century Europe. Charged with the task of restoring a magnificent library destroyed by the war, Inchbold moves between Prague and the Tower Bridge in London, his fortunes—and his life—hanging on his ability to recover a missing manuscript. Yet the lost volume is not what it seems. I won't spoil the story by revealing more. But, one other interesting feature of the novel is the portion describing the fall of Prague during the Thirty Years war. The Prague castle is featured, as well as other portions of the city, and as I was in Prague and at the Prague Castle less than 2 years ago, well, it made the tale come alive for me.

[Karen H · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a kind of exciting story with a mystery--it had a lot of history in it but it was kind of a narrow history or specific history,I wouldn't know for sure if it was real and it left me too confused to look into it. But It kept me entertained with it's chases, mysterious books that the whole world is lookng for and collaping houses. Galilio makes an appearence too but it didn't have enough explanation of how he got there. The story was a bit disjointed and confusing at times but it had enough going on to keep me to the end.

[Anne Thomas · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 stars ~ Tl;dr: The story is a mess which requires serious effort with questionable payoff, the historical context is interesting when it’s not too tangled in the story, and the evocation of historical landscape is definitely the book’s greatest strength.

To start out with the takedown: the story is a rickety, convoluted, ramshackle structure which—undermined further by clunky exposition, often laborious narrative prose, and flat characters serving as passive observer, pawn, or info dump source—collapses under its own weight.*

To avoid quickly trailing into a muddle, you have to really WANT to follow the thread of the mystery as it wanders and frequently doubles back on itself—and not in interesting ways—amidst the repetitive narrative beats of mysterious sinister pursuers and narrow escapes from violence and heavy-handed foreshadowing. There’s a lot of atmosphere what with secret societies and assassins and Galileo and privateers, and the story perhaps could have been salvaged with a BRACING edit, but fiction is clearly not the writer’s strong suit.

He seems better equipped as a historical writer. Some reviews bemoan the historical digressions, but for me they were, albeit dense, some of the stronger passages, when they weren’t dragged down too much into the convolutions of the plot. Unfortunately it did often feel like a modern historian using a historical character as a mouthpiece rather than a real psychological immersion in the time, and the tendency to info dump—think the worst tendencies of exposition shoehorned into dialogue in fantasy worldbuilding only it’s actual 17th century Europe���eventually wore down my appreciation for the historical context. But I did come away with some refreshed knowledge of the 30 years war, the Corpus Hermeticum and other occultish texts, the Counterreformation and political intrigues between Catholics and Protestants and Spain and England, and the English civil war era, as well as a renewed appreciation for the historical significance of books as information and cultural objects of serious power.

The other greatest salvaging strength of the writing was evocation of setting; for all the failures of narrative immersion when it came to dialogue and characterization, 17th century London / southern England was ALIVE as a physical landscape. Prague and central Europe were decently done as well. All the arduous journeys by foot and coach and barge and ship mapped these places viscerally—King does have a lyrical turn of phrase for physical description (even if said bracing edit would have cut it by half).

Similarly, some bit characters had a Dickensian flair (as long as they didn’t require any deepening).
Meanwhile, though Inchbold was reasonably interesting (if a bit annoyingly fastidious and navel-gazing as a first-person narrator), I was especially disappointed in Emilia, who had some potential in the beginning, then just kind of stoically came along for the ride to watch everything happen and then fizzled out. Her relationship with Vilem (info dump character) was a hollow shell, perhaps deliberately but this was never explored.

*iykyk

[Beth · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ex-Libris is a multi-layered mystery set in seventeenth century England, with a story-within-a-story set across Europe, centering around Sir Walter Raleigh's final voyage and the fabled lands of El Dorado. To describe it like this makes it sound like a swashbuckling story, but it isn't. The protagonist, Isaac Inchbold, is an unlikely hero- an aging bookseller with a club foot and permanent near sightedness. Most of the mystery involves Isaac researching things (which flags the plot a bit- it's boring to read about a hero reading about things, and it's also difficult to follow along when he discovers answers to which the reader isn't privvy). But the 'flashback' storyline is entirely action/adventure, as it revolves around the fall of Bohemia, the religious wars that destroyed nations and knowledge.

Probably the most fascinating part of this was the multitude of references to existing texts of the day. Pre-printing press and pre-publishing houses, books varied widely by translation. The idea that there was no such thing as a source text one could reference, and so-and-so's translation of an original text (all of which where foreign) was known among literate circles to be biased by a specific idea, or contain a flaw, is amazing. With mass publishing, nowadays we don't consider that your copy of US version of The Hunger Games would be any different than my copy (aside from cover).

Also fascinating, to me, was the political turmoil of Europe. I probably learned (and then forgot) the fall of those small nations who attempted neutrality during the 1600s religious wars, but this backdrop of it was fascinating. The concept that religious and political powers would be buying up libraries of nations as they're invaded in order to keep the wisdom and learning alive in some form was rather heartbreaking. The wholesale destruction of lives and learning based on doctrine disagreements was definitely heartbreaking (and still is, as it continues today in the US and across the world). King does an excellent job of keeping the stakes high and the reader engaged in those Europe scenes.

I did struggle a lot with the pace of Inchbold's passages, and the plot holes (the biggest being "how did Alethea even know of Inchbold's existence and why did she contact him specifically?", with Inchbold never actually asks her). I felt less engaged in Alethea's plight- she seemed slightly crazy to me. And the nefarious forces plotting against her also seemed a bit far-fetched- they were a real threat thirty-plus years ago, but the world had changed since then and I didn't feel their mission was so dire anymore.

Despite plot pacing issues, this was an interesting read and clearly well-researched.

[Rebecca · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book was so mind-numbingly boring that I couldn't bring myself to get past page 56. The premise is that a bookseller/collector of rare books in 17th century London is asked by a once-wealthy heiress to restore her grand library to its former glory. There's a murder or two involved, and some arcane books, and some potential drama lurking around the corner. But that's just what I got from the back cover of the book. The only thing that actually happened in 56 pages of the book was some clumsy first-person narration by a dull and lifeless protagonist (awkwardly interspersed with some parts told by an omniscient narrator) - and all he had to describe was some old papers and books in a ruined castle. During the sections of the book where the author mentioned a date or a specific monarch or a specific historical event, it felt like reading a very dry history textbook. The author clearly did a lot of research for this book (as any historical novelist must), but had a lot of trouble breathing life into that story in a way that people would want to read for fun. This book has a lot of potential, and it might turn out to be a good read for someone with more patience than I have. But if you're hoping for a page-turner or an interesting plot from page one, this is the wrong book for you.

[Daniel · Rating 4 out of 5]

An intriguing tale in the realm of literary thrillers. King does an excellent job of bringing to life 17-century London and the world of the bookseller Inchbold, which is crucial to both caring about the story and understanding the implications raised during the course of events. Lovers of books as artifacts will delight in the minutiae of the various tomes names and the information about them that makes them special, the editions, the printers, the papers and bindings. The narrator cares about these and so did I as I read because it truly is contagious. I will forgive the novel a bit of an unraveling of the main plot towards the end into a slight mess that somewhat failed to convey the weight of the implications raised by the discovery of that which was sought during the story, and I forgive it because it doesn't detract from the overall experience, nor does it fail to close the events, so it isn't a sin. Highly recommended to anyone who loves books, the physical objects and their history, and loves thrillers. If you're like me and like the confluence of the two, this is certainly one novel to pick up.

[Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Started out fabulously, brilliantly intriguing, great characters and premise into which I was immediately drawn only to have what could have been a fabulous story become more and more bogged down in the exceedingly heavy dragging weight of History - with a capital 'H'. The author, Ross King is a brilliant historian, I loved 'Bruneleschi's Dome' and I'm sure I'm going to love his new book 'Leonardo and the Last Supper' but Ex Libris floundered and eventually sank under the weight of a far too complex plot in which he plunged into extraordinary detail and which seemed to include every royal house and prominent character of the 17th Century who were all in one way or another tied in to story in one outrageously remote way or another. The theme of the book, the search for a hermetic text by a crotchety old club-footed book seller and set against the backdrop of the great libraries of Europe could have been elegant and brilliant, but I more and more dreaded the alternating chapters that plunged ever deeper into the historical story that seemed never to clarify but only to further obscure. I only have one suggestion to Mr. Ross - get yourself a new editor!!

[Sharon · Rating 3 out of 5]

A byzantine adventure story set in England during the reign of Charles II. A bookseller is enlisted to find a rare manuscript which was lost during the 30 years war. Flashes back and forth between the early- and late-1600's. I had a hard time telling whether the narrator was supremely omniscient or the flashbacks were in the third-person. Touches on all the themes of the time: Protestants vs. Catholics, Spain vs. England, New World exploration, longitude, Galileo, etc. Not as "girly" as the historical fiction I usually prefer, but the narrator was a likable "everyman" who just happened to get pulled into world affairs.

[Diana Sandberg · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well.....sigh....not really very good, although it has some good elements. I very much liked a couple of King's non-fiction works, The Judgement of Paris and Brunelleschi's Dome, and I believe I read and enjoyed the fictional Domino (although I can't lay my hands on my review at the moment). So I am disappointed to report that, while this book starts off quite well, and I do enjoy the central character, it gets muddier and muddier as it progresses, and the final 30-40 pages, where he apparently tried to write a suspenseful climax while simultaneously cramming in all the research he'd not yet managed to insert into the story, are simply ridiculous. Pity.

[Julie · Rating 2 out of 5]

King's narrative was bogged down with unnecessary details, historical conspiracies, name dropping and dead-end plot-lines in which a seventeenth century book-seller is given the task of tracking down a mysterious volume. I was pretty disappointed in the conclusion and the anticlimactic revelation of the purpose of the sought book. I had really been looking forward to reading Ex-Libris and I really wanted to like it (being such a bibliophile and having a soft-spot for books about books) but it was far too scattered and inconsistent.

[Fiona Glass · Rating 3 out of 5]

The author had clearly done an impressive amount of research on this book, and the plot involving hidden libraries, a missing (and priceless) book called The Labyrinth of the World, ciphers and spies, was intriguing. However, everything took a very long time to happen and the device of having the main characters tell each other the backstory in somewhat stilted dialogue was a little tedious at times, and got in the way of the action. And in the end, the Labyrinth of the World seemed to have been a red herring which fizzled out, leaving me wondering whether I'd missed the point...

[Rebecca · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don’t care what everyone thinks of this book! I LOVED it. It was fascinating and intricate. It completely transported me. It taught me about a period of history that I knew little about. Isaac Inchbold and Emilia Molyneux are wonderfully drawn characters that I will love forever.

[Alan · Rating 2 out of 5]

Found the 17th century "milieu" ultimately stultifying. Too much atmosphere. Language too awkward. Some may love it.

[Laura · Rating 2 out of 5]

Tediously written, as if the author was trying to fit in everything he found in his research, whether it was pertinent to the story or not.

[Olivia Taylor · Rating 1 out of 5]

I am upset about the ending.

[Grada (BoekenTrol) · Rating 3 out of 5]

A book that didn't quite meet my expectations. Too much history, too much travels & searches with no real purpose (or so it seemed) and too little thrilling elements.

In the end the story of one of the travels meets the people who are engaged in conversation. That was nice, but did not really affect my overall opinion on the book.

[Ray · Rating 5 out of 5]

Gothic romance meets Indiana Jones meets 17th century history lesson meets Everything you could Ever Want To Know About Books - but in the absolutely best way.

[SueChor · Rating 2 out of 5]

Though a fan of historical fiction, I found this tale of a London bookseller’s adventures in 1660 less than engaging. A dull fellow, by his own admission, he is drawn into a web of intrigue by a mysterious woman. An auspicious start yields much back and forth but little true story. The best parts are some knowledge of London at this time, and a description of the life of a timid bookseller pushed beyond his comfort zone. Not a memorable book.

[Tara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Favorite Quotes

Quite amazing how determined kings and emperors have been to destroy books. But civilization is built on such desecrations, is it not? Justinian the Great burned all of the Greek scrolls in Constantinople after he codified the Roman law and drove the Ostrogoths from Italy. And Shih Huang Ti, the first Emperor of China, the man who unified the five kingdoms and built the Great Wall, decreed that every book written before he was born should be destroyed.

…Because every ruler celebrated his conquests by setting torch to the nearest library. Did not Julius Caesar incinerate the scrolls in the great library at Alexandria during his campaign against the republicans in Africa? Or General Stilicho, leader of the Vandals, order the burning of the Sybillene prophecies in Rome?

There was nothing so dangerous to a king or an emperor as a book. Yes, a great library—a library as magnificent as this one—was a dangerous arsenal, one that kings and emperors feared more than the greatest army or magazine.