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Perdida's droom
Privédetective John Van Dyck ontmoet een jonge dakloze vrouw die zich niets meer van heer verleden herinnert en zelfs haar eigen naam niet meer kent. Gefascineerd door dit geheimzinnige wezen verwaarloost Van Dyck de lopende zaken en neemt hij Perdida, zoals hij haar noemt, in bescherming. Maar zijn protegee weet hem steeds opnieuw te ontglippen en naarmate zijn bezeten zoektocht naar haar identiteit vordert, verliest John Van Dyck gaandeweg zijn identiteit. Tijdens deze onverbiddelijke afdaling naar de hel komt hij de waarheid op het spoor en raakt hij verstrikt in een aantal onvermijdelijke gebeurtenissen die zijn eigen ondergang zullen betekenen.
364 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2010
10 people want to read
About the author
Patrick Conrad
52 books43 followersPatrick Conrad is een Vlaamse dichter en schrijver.
Patrick Conrad in de Nederlandstalige Wikipedia
Patrick Conrad in de Digitale Bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse Letteren
Patrick Conrad bij "Schrijversgewijs"
Patrick Conrad is a Flemish poet and writer.
Patrick Conrad in the English Wikipedia
Patrick Conrad in de Nederlandstalige Wikipedia
Patrick Conrad in de Digitale Bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse Letteren
Patrick Conrad bij "Schrijversgewijs"
Patrick Conrad is a Flemish poet and writer.
Patrick Conrad in the English Wikipedia
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
January 12, 2014
Poet, screenwriter and author Patrick Conrad updates the Sam Spade-type detective to fit his native country of Belgium. Prowling the snow-covered alleys of Antwerp is his private eye John van Dyck. Being kicked off the police force after the accidental shooting of a colleague in Chinatown, Van Dyck now runs his own agency with his genre-obligatory mundane-yet-sexy secretary Milk.
But solving crime isn’t John’s main passion. He rather spends night after night in one of Antwerp’s many pubs writing poems. Most of the time, newcomers to “Perdida’s Droom”'s plot are being introduced to him with the words “John van Dyck, the poet”, rather than “the detective”.
And Conrad manages to break away further from the cliché-riddled noir-genre in which he’s trotting. Van Dyck is no fast-talking, witty or hard-hitting private eye. Most of his time is spent daydreaming over a glass of cognac, idolizing his poetry-god Laszlo Janssens and being overcome by anxiety-attacks when yet another publisher refuses to print Van Dyck’s own work.
The real detective-plot doesn’t start until Van Dyck, searching for the lost daughter of a millionaire, stumbles upon a young homeless woman on the stairs of Antwerp Central Station. Mystery shrouds the woman, as she’s unable to recall where she is, how she got there or even what her name is. Fascinated by this anonymous creature, Van Dyck starts neglecting all his current cases and focuses solely on the woman he starts calling Perdida.
Now, just why John would be so obsessed by Perdida never becomes clear; Conrad doesn’t offer any explanation for that. From one moment to the next, the woman’s simply constantly on his mind.
And that is the first of several narrative problems in “Perdida’s Droom”. As a thriller, though written with plenty of speed and urgency, hardly offers any thrills. There are some questions as to who this Perdida is and why people seem to be looking for her; but there’s not enough urgency to uncover the truth.
Rather, the highlight of this book is its style. Conrad packs plenty of that while guiding the reader through post-Christmas Antwerp, through alleys where the brown-colored snow drenches your shoes and socks, and where the hospitality of any pub welcomes you into a décor filled with warm and eccentric characters.
An even bigger joy to read are John’s dreams, which become more outrageous and threatening as he uncovers Perdida’s past. As in a feverdream, all sorts of elements of the Perdida-case come together in a whirlwind of words, flavors and impressions. And it’s in these passages that Conrad shows the most in having so much fun with wordplay. There’s the delightful moment when John strips his secretary out of her clothes and discovers that when he takes off her pearl necklace, she begins to talk backwards without it. “.taht hcuot t’noD .nhoJ ,oN” she warns him, just before he wakes up.
As a showcase of style, “Perdida’s Droom” is a interesting read. Its use of language and descriptions of location and atmosphere are pleasing and often enjoyable. But as a mystery or a thriller, it offers little or nothing – and absolutely nothing original.
But solving crime isn’t John’s main passion. He rather spends night after night in one of Antwerp’s many pubs writing poems. Most of the time, newcomers to “Perdida’s Droom”'s plot are being introduced to him with the words “John van Dyck, the poet”, rather than “the detective”.
And Conrad manages to break away further from the cliché-riddled noir-genre in which he’s trotting. Van Dyck is no fast-talking, witty or hard-hitting private eye. Most of his time is spent daydreaming over a glass of cognac, idolizing his poetry-god Laszlo Janssens and being overcome by anxiety-attacks when yet another publisher refuses to print Van Dyck’s own work.
The real detective-plot doesn’t start until Van Dyck, searching for the lost daughter of a millionaire, stumbles upon a young homeless woman on the stairs of Antwerp Central Station. Mystery shrouds the woman, as she’s unable to recall where she is, how she got there or even what her name is. Fascinated by this anonymous creature, Van Dyck starts neglecting all his current cases and focuses solely on the woman he starts calling Perdida.
Now, just why John would be so obsessed by Perdida never becomes clear; Conrad doesn’t offer any explanation for that. From one moment to the next, the woman’s simply constantly on his mind.
And that is the first of several narrative problems in “Perdida’s Droom”. As a thriller, though written with plenty of speed and urgency, hardly offers any thrills. There are some questions as to who this Perdida is and why people seem to be looking for her; but there’s not enough urgency to uncover the truth.
Rather, the highlight of this book is its style. Conrad packs plenty of that while guiding the reader through post-Christmas Antwerp, through alleys where the brown-colored snow drenches your shoes and socks, and where the hospitality of any pub welcomes you into a décor filled with warm and eccentric characters.
An even bigger joy to read are John’s dreams, which become more outrageous and threatening as he uncovers Perdida’s past. As in a feverdream, all sorts of elements of the Perdida-case come together in a whirlwind of words, flavors and impressions. And it’s in these passages that Conrad shows the most in having so much fun with wordplay. There’s the delightful moment when John strips his secretary out of her clothes and discovers that when he takes off her pearl necklace, she begins to talk backwards without it. “.taht hcuot t’noD .nhoJ ,oN” she warns him, just before he wakes up.
As a showcase of style, “Perdida’s Droom” is a interesting read. Its use of language and descriptions of location and atmosphere are pleasing and often enjoyable. But as a mystery or a thriller, it offers little or nothing – and absolutely nothing original.
Displaying 1 of 1 review