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15 of 15 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Incredibly Bad on Almost Every Level, September 20, 2005
Where to begin? The basic concept it ludicrous, the writing ranges from clumsy and stilted to downright awful, the characters are thin and inconsistent, the pacing is slow and uninteresting and the hackneyed romantic angle is poorly executed and sometimes vomit-inducing. How could anyone possibly have given this garbage a decent review?
Here's a book so badly written that when the author wants to convey paleontological information he has the evil boss order a generic scientist to give him a lecture. Now, the evil boss is head of an organization that has been working on this neanderthal project for years - why does he suddenly need a refresher course? Because the author can't come up with a better way to cram in ten pages of dull and unnecessary exposition cribbed directly from a textbook, that's why. And who is this scientist? Why is he working for the evil boss? We never find out - after his lecture he disappears, never to be seen again. This entire scene is written so poorly that at one point the boss dismisses the scientist, only to suddenly have the two of them continuing their conversation a page later as if the dismissal had never happened. Now imagine an entire book written like that.
Some of the unmitigated garbage that Neanderthal expects you to swallow:
- Scientists who don't act like scientists and who happily kill each other for poorly articulated reasons
- Former lovers who never had a good reason to break up and have even less of a reason to get back together
- The lamest depiction of the "Noble Savage" philosophy ever printed
- Not one, not two, but THREE completely meaningless and uninteresting subplots that have absolutely no impact on the story
- An example of deus ex machina that would make the ancient Greeks blush in shame. Don't believe me? Well, in the last 50 pages of the book, just as our heroes are about to be killed by an angry neanderthal mob, they are suddenly saved by Sergei the supercompetent Russian robin hood who suddenly appears out of nowhere, spouts a ludicrous backstory and then does nothing for the rest of the book. Seriously.
Neanderthal is so lousy that it's not even possible to enjoy it as bad fiction. If you have the misfortune to encounter this book I suggest respond to it's primitive nature in kind and smear it with your feces in order to prevent others from suffering. And don't feel bad about doing this - it's not as if the book itself isn't already the literary equivalent of exrement-covered paper.
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15 of 16 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
I Disagree--this was a fun book!, November 1, 2000
The reviews below really (and unfairly I believe) tear apart this book. Was it literature? Gosh NO! Was it based on 100% verifiable facts? Nope. Was it good old-fashioned fun? You BET! John Darnton ISN'T a scientist. Sure he bases a lot on the creative and scientific work of others, however from there he ran with the plot in his OWN direction to write a down-right fun adventure story similar to what we might find in an 'Indiana Jones' movie. I don't want to make it out that this is going to win awards anytime soon...however I felt VERY interested from beginning to end, and the surprise that comes when you figure out what the hominids CAN do that really sets them apart really was an interesting twist. I could see this in my mind's eye being made into a movie easily. I doubt someone will, but I think it'd make a fun flick anyway. So, if you are looking for literature to read, pass over 'Neanderthal'...but if you're looking for adventure 'light' than John Darnton has written the book for you.
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Hare-brained hominids, August 5, 2002
It must have been the title that got me: "Neanderthal," with my mental exclamation point duly added. The blurb, too, sounded promising enough (charitably disregarding the bit about what showed potential for a tortured love angle between the male and female protagonists, "once lovers, now academic rivals"): In a remote mountainous region of Central Asia, a relic band of Neanderthals have been found foraging just as they used to forage 40,000 years ago at the time of their purported annihilation. Then there was the cover shot of the Neanderthal skull with its shattered cranium borrowed from a 1996 National Geographic piece. Icing on the cake, a peer inside the book jacket revealed the author to be a writer and arts editor for The New York Times, no less. Still, what a letdown this whole Paleolithic escaped proved. Lamentably, as in so many books of its genre, in this one, too, the beginning of the journey holds far more interest than the rest of it, to say nothing of the destination. The first hundred or so opening pages duly build up to a nice crescendo, as you are flitting page after page rooting for the remarkably hapless heroes in their search for their (and your) first glimpse of the hominids. Then instead of a bang: a whimper. When you do get to meet the Neanderthals, you wish you hadn't. It turns out (this without revealing too much), that they possess extraordinary supernatural abilities, not least of which is extrasensory perception cum mind reading; that they have split into two groups, one a band of nature's innocents living in a utopian fool's paradise (a la Rousseau), the other a ferocious posse of savages staging routine headhunts of fellow Neanderthals and ill-starred homo sapiens (a la Darwin); and -- surprise -- that the Agency is in hot pursuit of their weapon-grade abilities.... If only Mr. Darnton had thought a little bit longer and harder of all this and made his fantasy sound at least remotely credible. Instead, he made a howler out of a potentially worthy idea. One can image his pitch to a publisher. "I thought of this story about some Neanderthals found alive up in the mountains in central Asia, and then...." But by "then," the publisher must have signed the contract in haste. Give this one a miss unless you have a great tolerance for hare-brained contrivances.
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