Mark Haber, Reinhardt's Garden ***

The précis of Reinhardt's Garden seems almost AI generated to get me to buy the book. An obsessive protagonist wanders through South America jungles in search of a legendary prophet of melancholy philosophy; comparisons to Nabokov, Borges, Aira, Bernhard, and Werner Herzog; a compact 150 pages.

I enjoyed Jacov's theory that melancholy, "the unspoken and spiritual sadness of the soul, is transcendental, divine, and nothing a wise person should run from, but instead something to meet head on, to aspire to." His expressed his enthusiasm on the topic in language that reminded me of Schopenhauer, including his philosophy's ties to the First Noble Truth of Buddhism. I also appreciated how architecture of his intentionally baffling castle reflected his mind.

However, the narrative is serviceable at best. Surprisingly little time is spent in the South American rainforest, and the story of Jacov pursuing his obsession is more absurd than compelling. The vague echoes of other stories increased the uncanny feeling that I was reading a generated narrative.

David Grann, The Wager ****

The Wager is a non-fiction seafaring adventure tale. The title is the name of a British ship that wrecked on a desolate Patagonian island in 1741. A year later, a boatload of survivors arrived in Brazil, telling a story about the descent into anarchy on the island and their heroic escape. The following year, another group of survivors turned up in Chile with a somewhat different story. Who caused the shipwreck? Was there a mutiny? Did the captain commit murder? Perhaps the truth would come out at the court-martial proceedings for all of them.

The flap copy explains that the narrative has three distinct parts:

Grann's re-creation of the hidden world on a British warship rivals the work of Patrick O'Brian, his portrayal of the castaway's desperate straits stands up to the classics of survival writing such as The Endurance, and his account of the court-martial has the savvy of a Scott Turow thriller.

There is actually one further part of the story: the fate of the rest of the squadron of which Wager was a part. The book does not pay equal attention to each of these parts: the pre-shipwreck journey covers nearly half the pages, the court-martial just a single chapter. Grann's depiction of sailing on Wager is far more vivid than his accounts of the survivors' perilous journeys.

Grann tells the story in chronological order. I think he missed an opportunity to enhance the mystery and drama of his tale by interleaving chapters about the arrival of the survivors with flashback chapters about the disputed events on Wager Island. That's how Scott Turow would have done it,

Anne Fadiman, Ex Libris ***

Ex Libris is a small book consisting of short personal essays on the subject of books. Each essay is a bite-sized morsel written in an informal style, making it seem like a pleasant conversation with a friend.

A few of the essays inspired introspection, such as about what my library and its organization says about me. I related to Ms Fadiman's character––her impulsive proofreading, her love of bookstores and of reading books in the places they describe––but she didn't offer insights about bibliophilia. Enjoyable but not enriching.

Alan Furst, Night Soldiers **** 1/2

Night Soldiers was the first of Alan Furst's historical espionage novels, of which there are currently fifteen. It is probably a good place to start with this author: it introduces his trademark style –– a Central European protagonist gets entangled with anti-Nazi espionage in the years just before World War II, and their realistic spy business is told with a convincing evocation of the time and place –– and includes enough story for two or three books.

The hero in this case is Bulgarian. In 1934 the Germans are approaching his hometown on the Danube River, and his younger brother is killed by the emboldened local fascists. This event drives him into the arms of the local Russian recruiter who sends him downriver to train for the Soviet security forces. He eventually fights in the Spanish Civil War, supports French partisans, and reports on factory output in Prague before returning to the Danube for a final mission.

Night Soldiers differs from later Furst novels in a few ways. It is more epic, spanning more than a decade in locations all over Europe; the main character is trained as an agent rather than falling into the role by happenstance; and the overarching purpose of the espionage operations is more explicit. 

The best thing about Furst's novels is the atmosphere, which is best described by one of his titles: Kingdom of Shadows. But here's an interesting question from the Reader's Guide at the back of Night Soldiers: 

Critics praise Furst's ability to re-create the atmosphere of World War II-era Europe. ... How can you account for the fact that the settings seem authentic even though you probably have no first-hand knowledge of the times and places he writes about?