kostova's the historian

with much anticipation i began reading elizabeth kostova's the historian. i'd heard quite a bit of buzz about the book. i was hoping for a chilling tale of horror and suspense, but akmost half way through now, I'm pushing on only by dint of sheer will. there's a compelling story in there somewhere, between long conversations spent at cafes (which kostova does not bother to edit for us), over-described journeys across europe, and the convenient arrival of a new character. at one point, she tries to juggle three nested stories, and the book becomes as ridiculous as a recent simpson's episode, where lisa tells marge, homer, and bart a story about mr. burns telling her a story about moe telling him a story about a treasure. in the book it's hard enough trying to keep track of the three different "i's", and the style between the three narrators is so similar it's really impossible to tell who is speaking without looking for external clues in the text. character depth and development become lost in the jumpy narrative and in kostova's eagerness to unwind the plot. like brown in writing the da vinci code, she relies on cliff hangers to create suspense and danger.

but the book has some strong points, the largest of which is the fascinating details of vlad tepes's life and some of the tension between the ottoman empire and wallachia. and it does take you on a sweeping tour of europe, at times reading almost like a guide book. it's one of those stories which it almost hurts me to read, as i am forced to speculate how good it could have been.

the book exemplifies the danger of the "i" p.o.v., which i was warned against in one of my writing books (can't recall which one, at the moment). it's much too easy to fall into "i did this, i did that". i can't help but compare to tartt's book the secret history, a rivetting tale also written in the first person. tartt manages to take less scary material and bring it to life with suspense and intrigue.
she succeeds where kostova does not because she takes you by the hand, knows just when to paint in broad strokes or zero in to sharp detail. from the get go she seizes control of the story, and hence you, the reader, drives you relentlessly towards the conclusion of the book. never once does it get out of her hand. with kostova, i get the feeling the story leaked away from her, even as she hastened to contain the spill.