Danny Hane > Recent Status Updates

Even on the first couple of pages I could sense that this book has that magic “Oh wow, this is great and I have no idea why.” The narrative progresses in such a smooth, organic and psychologically convincing way. I’m getting into that territory where I forget to eat because I want to keep reading.

Stella Maris is slowly advancing to become a personal favorite. My mind is getting into a really special metaphysical state. All the big questions I have are discussed in here: reality, the self, sanity, the subconscious, life, death. On rereading I could focus on so many more subtle nuances — e.g. the names Alice and Bob are the placeholders used in cryptography and physics to refer to sender and receiver.

As my reading turned increasingly negative, I tried to approach the story purely for entertainment reasons, just to remain open.

I don’t even dislike the characters… I just don’t care about them, mainly because they feel like clichés. The whole book has a pseudo-deep smugness to it. A real audience pleaser.

Spoiler alert: This won’t be my favorite book.

It’s very apparent that Donna Tartt wanted to create a Harry Potter-type protagonist that you feel pity for. That didn’t worked out for me…I need a reason first to care about a character. I’m immersed in the book and it has a great, melodic language; however, I’m still not convinced that this is a story that needs to be told. In fact, it feels like a story I’ve heard many times before.

Finished the first chapter about Dutch art and an explosion and I’m already surprised how underwhelmed I am with the storytelling. Branch after branch with filigreed descriptions. Only 700 pages to go, yay!

Chapter 14 was so good that I read it three times, then set the book aside for a while and had to start all over again. The migration of the family has an almost biblical quality – and rereading only made the story better. Once the family reaches California, though, the narrative loses some of its grip in the endless succession of camps and work.

Some narrators are unsympathetic, disgusting, or just misguided. But this one plays in a league of her own. I don't know what went wrong with her, and I'm already at a point where I'm not sure I want to know. Third time googling the author's pictures and being like "But she looks so normal?!"

John Steinbeck = Luigi
William Faulkner = Waluigi

Faulkner's style is really hard to describe: It's unpredictable without being erratic /arbitrary. He doesn't seem to follow any pattern – the same is true for the narration. Only around page 100 do we get to know a protagonist, and I'm still not sure if this is the main plot strand or if this book even has one. Head is spinning. Certainly not a boring book.

I'm completely in the dark about what direction this book could go. So far, quite a lot of tension. Can't really put my finger on the prose as well- it's neither bad nor good... a bit unwieldy?!

Lying a bit sick in bed and my head not working all that well, I was really in the mood for some good ol’ conventional fucked up horror story. Some say it’s the most disturbing book they’ve ever read…*sipping ginger tea*… ok, I’m ready!

After 11 long pages of how great the dick of Israel is (her affair), she now raises the central question:

„I don’t know why you’re all reading books instead of letting Israel fuck you in the ass, spit on you, or slam you against the headboard—with every thrust, your skull smacks against the headboard.”

Now I need a reading pause and I‘m thinking to myself: Hm, maybe Israel should fuck me too.

With every Sheila Heti novel, I fall in love with her voice all over again. It has the honesty and lightheartedness of a child who whispers a precious secret to you, like: 'When I grow up, I want to be a genius' …it just makes you laugh out loud.

Ew, the Goodreads app has started showing me ads. Really bad timing, when left and right other reading apps are popping up that manage to handle such highly sophisticated and complex things as being able to reply to someone’s comment directly via the app.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

For about 140 pages I was completely lost… every chapter drops you into a new character’s life and you have no idea how they relate to the story.

Slowly the strings come together and now we’re deep in Bostrom’s simulation hypothesis.

It’s a strange mix of A Visit from the Goon Squad, Interstellar, Anéantir, and maybe Story of Your Life.

I’m hooked!

This slowly develops into a wet dream for all horse girls: a forbidden romance, shy glances, secretly riding your stallion with her at sunrise into the boundless vastness of the Mexican landscape. I want to see some dead baby corpses hanging from the trees.

One of my greatest passions, besides literature, is to tinker in private with agricultural machinery. I am particularly fond of John Deere tractors. But lately old Yamaha machines from the 90s have caught my deeper interest. Just kidding… I have no idea why I read this book.

I am truly in awe of the virtuosity of language in this book! The range of emotions I have experienced so far is really broad: the book is fucked up, it's funny, it's skewed and gruesome and at the same time shows brief moments of real humanness.

I fell asleep during a scene where someone was fucking melons. Waking up was very confusing; I had to reread the page about five times. But yes: he was, in fact, fucking melons in a field at night.

At first, I was deeply confused by this book. Not only does Naoko have an actual personality instead of being an empty shell, but she doesn’t even have big, round boobs? What is going on?!?

Fortunately, in the later part of the book, Murakami goes back to his roots and finally delves into the subject of the roundness of her boobies in greater detail.

I think I have slowly but surely hit a wall while reading

Marcel Reif Rainiki Stimme: "Wer ein solches Zeug schrrreibt... ein so ordinäääres Buch das vulgäääre ist ja unerrträääglich... ich werde ficken, ich habe gefickt, wir werden gefickt... die Welt ist eine Fickerei... das einzige Glück ist die Fickerei...Kinder, Kinder was ist
das für eine Prrrrrrrosa?!?!