The Magician and the Fool by Barth Anderson

Book #11. Yeah yeah!

Barth Anderson. The Magician and the Fool. Sigh.

I got this book the other day when Diane and I went to the library. It looked so interesting, based on the inside cover description!

Years ago, fallen scholar Jeremiah Rosemont left the bitter rivalries of academia behind and now lives a simple nomadic existence in South America, far from the arguments that once defined his life. But he can’t outrun his past…or the dangerous truth that lurks beneath his abandoned studies. Following an enigmatic summons to Rome, Rosemont finds himself at the center of a mystery that dates back to the fall of Troy, the pursuit of a mystical treasure many are willing to sacrifice fortunes and lives for: the earliest known tarot deck.

As Rosemont delves deeper and deeper into the tarot’s unsettling secret origins, his own fate is inexorably intertwined with that of the Boy King, a homeless man with an unspeakable gift…and a mysterious past of his own. For these two men—and the demons, dupes, and power seekers drawn to them—the cards will reveal everything, even the shattering, unseen truths of human life itself.…

Oh, I had such high hopes for this book! Mystery, history, and magic? Yes, please!

But no. Ohhhhhh no...

THIS BOOK WAS HORRIBLE. I hated it. Loathed it. ABHORED it. The plot was way too thick and convoluted to follow and the characters were, while interesting, fully developed too late in the game for any real relationship to form between them and the reader.

Sure, there was a lot of action and pretty prose. But did it make sense? Did it all fit together to form a cohesive plot? No. The words I was reading sounded nice and all, but the fact that I had no idea what was going on really killed any chance this book had.

Apparently Publisher's Weekly noted this also:

Anderson (The Patron Saint of Plagues) doesn't make it easy on the reader, preferring to reveal his swirling, complex story bit by enigmatic bit. Those willing to surrender themselves to this talented author's compelling vision will find a fevered dream universe where understanding in the normal sense is probably not possible, nor even necessary.

I guess maybe this book was just over my head. Or...flitting and flopping and dancing around my head. I guess I'm much too logical to appreciate this type of writing.

But hey, maybe you aren't! I wouldn't reccommend this book to anyone, but if you're really compelled to pick it up, I'd say it's better this than nothing.

That's my two cents. T-Max OUT.