Most helpful customer reviews
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5.0 out of 5 stars
Haunting!, Dec 27 2003
Perhaps I shouldn't marvel that someone would give this beautifully crafted book one star, but then again I think I understand. I was half-way through the book when my library called and told me they had The Da Vinci Code I'd requested two months earlier. I set aside Mr. Busch's work and dashed through Dan Brown's popular thriller. It was a gripping piece of fluff with about as much character development and attention to place as a cereal box. I enjoyed myself, but it was a delight to return to A Memory of War, and immerse myself once again in a master's meditation on memory and fallibility.Alex is a disturbed soul whose life disintegrates before our eyes as he examines how we construct a sense of self out the memories and memorabilia of life. That the journey happens almost exclusively within his consciousness, wherein he recreates the history of his family as well as relationships with his psychotherapy clients, is perfectly sensible. For anyone who needs to have a narrative thread with carefully marked events to follow a story, Mr. Busch's meditation would be challenging indeed. The invitation is to suspend critical thought and go as the mind goes, hither and yon, from present moment to past and back again. Note your own mind sometimes and observe how often reverie intrudes on your awareness. A word in a conversation can transport you to other scenes, other moments with other people. Nothing is neatly tied together in this beautiful book, yet Mr. Busch's characterizations are rich and haunting. This is the stuff of real life, of real struggle with coming to terms with loss, disappointment, longing, fear, confusion. I feel so much gratitude that I have encountered this author and look forward to reading more of his sumptuous prose. I'll still enjoy an occasional thriller, but cotton candy aside, it is wonderful to know where to find real literature when I seek something more than diversion. Five stars for this exceptional writing is easy!
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4.0 out of 5 stars
Beautifully written, but not what I expected, Sep 26 2003
By A Customer
I feel slightly guilty only giving A Memory of War four stars. Frederick Busch is a wonderful writer. I was disappointed by this book, but I think that is due to my faulty expectations. I selected it because I was intrigued by the plot and I enjoy literary historical fiction. The central concept is simple and compelling. Alex Lescziak is a New York psychoanalyst whose parents escaped from Poland and lived in England during World War II. One day a new patient reveals himself to be Alex's half brother, William Kessler. William's father Otto was a German prisoner of war who had an affair with Alex's mother Sylvia in England, while Alex was a toddler. There are two sub-plots. One revolves around Alex's wife, Liz,who he suspects is having an affair with his best friend, and the other involves one of his patients, Nella, with whom he is having an affair. She is suicidal and now missing. I was expecting two narrative streams, one following events in the present (1985) and one actually telling the story of Sylvia and Otto. In fact, the reader experiences all of the characters through Alex's consciousness. We know the characters only through Alex's imagination. I really disliked this while I was reading the book. However, after finishing it, I find myself still thinking about Alex and all of the other characters. It turns out that I was able to accept the book on its own terms afterall. Busch convinced me that his was the "true" story, regardless of the facts. On one level it bothers me that the book offers a single perspective -- probably because I expected something different -- but it is strangely satifying anyway.
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1.0 out of 5 stars
Duped!, Sep 19 2003
Unlike the previous customer review, I stuck this thing out to the end. I wasted my time. I bought it bbecause it was purported to be about the Lake District in WWII, but it was hardly that. I've been to the Enlish Lake District many times, though I doubt Mr. Busch EVER has. He captures none of its Wordsworthian beauty. The back of the jacket has praise from people nobody's ever heard of, or certainly I haven't. Worse there is a picture of the author on the rear flap. Very smug, it seems to shout at the reader "Gotcha to pay money for this, didn't I?" The book is a mess, transitions absent, characters self-pitying, scenes wailing. I've read Mr. Busch before and liked him. Doubt, after this one, I ever will again. It was just an awful experience, esp. when my reading time is precious to me. JKC
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