Customer Reviews

Song in the Park

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

The story starts off well, with interesting characters. But 1/3 of the way, it is just boring. Pages after pages with nothing really going on. I ended up skipping a lot just to get to the wrap-up and I always try to be patient with less renowned writers. Maybe it is the dull writing style but this could be better as a short gay romance e-book.

OK, I admit it...I did not finish this book...I couldn't finish this book. This is the worst written book I have read in years. Every trite expression, every pathetic analogy, every overused metaphor -- and I'm only talking about the first five pages.

Who publishes this stuff? Was there an editor involved? Did the editor actually read this book? Is the editor English speaking?

I love the gay novel genre. It doesn't often pay off in good writing...how many Edmund Whites are there? But the work in this category can be fun; it can be evocative; it can even ring of truth.

Song in the Park rings like a death knell -- for good literature.

Don't buy this book.

This poorly, poorly edited book (to the point of distraction)should have been about 150 pages shorter, if not more. I wonder if an editor actually READ this book. It moves painfully slowly, the characters speak in stilted, unrealistic, Hallmark-card eloquence (is everyone a closet poet??) and the subplot with the serial kidnapper/killer is just flat-out ridiculous! I'm not an expert on gay fiction, but I'm sure there has got to be material better than this. I almost didn't make it through this novel. I do not and will not recommend this book to anyone. I had high hopes when I bought it and it was very disappointing. Save the $16 and stay clear of this mess.

I hadn't read a gay related novel for many years as most of what I had previously read invariably consisted of a poorly constructed plot, obviously leading to one thing, and one thing only.

However, I was in the Castro over New Year and decided to buy this book. And I was pleased I did so.

Brant constructs an excellent framework for his novel (pity it should have "A Gay Novel" in its title, after all did Jane Austen prefece "Vanity Fair" with "...a novel about heterosexual macinations..."?

The plot and its numerous sub-plots blend together seamlessly. the characters - especially the male ones - are well-defined and one can sympathise with their situations and just how the two are drawn together.

The descriptions of the settings are clearly defined and there are times I wish I could have found, and had time to enjoy the areas of countryside described by Brant so vividly.

When the couple eventually do "find one another" (and it takes many pages before they do, thus heightening the tension and expectation) it is beautifully described. Indeed every description of their couplings are handled with sensitivity without taking away the intense sensuality that the author portrays.

All in all, a delightful read, which I personally enjoyed tremendously, especially as we were touring around the West coast of America at the time, which included a spell in the mountains above Santa Barbara near to Los Olivos.

However, and this is no reflection on the author, who on EARTH was responsible for the proof reading of this novel over the last fifty pages or so? It is peppered with inaccuracies, spelling errors and appalling grammar. At one point, the heroe's name - Justin - appears as "Justine" which is so very annoying.

This is quite inexcusable and were I Martin Brant I would consider the position of the publisher - Le Marais - very carefully.

This last point takes me back to my first point; why, even now in this enlightened age, does a writer of this calibre have to have his work pulled down by shoddy, careless work by "the professionals" as if the content were immaterial and the type of people who would buy a book such as this were the sort who would buy anything that came their way as long as it had a gay content.

Think again, Le Marais publishers; times have changed and intelligent, articulate and well-educated gay people are not prepared to spend money on anything less than the very best of mainstream fiction.

If you landed on this page, please do not order this edition of A Song in the Park. It was published by the rights holder at the time unedited. The novel has been rewritten and is available here on Amazon at A Song In The Park: Revised

Many Thanks

Martin Brant

"Of course truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction must stick to possibilities, truth doesn't" (Attributed to Mark Twain)

I purchased this book and have picked it up twice...just because I hate to start a book and not finish it. Some plot elements are improbable (discovering one's orientation and lifelong true love at the same time). Everyone is beautiful, talented, and without character flaws. Things move along, but I found myself thinking that I really should be reading something more important or useful.

I heard about this book from an unsolicted email sent directly from the author. It was an interesting story and read it cover to cover. It is, bar none, the victim of the worst editing (or lack of) I've ever seen. If you are not bothered by frequent and blatant editing flaws, then it IS an enjoyable story. I'm not an editor myself, but the gaffes were really obvious and distract from the continuity of the book! The author is well intentioned and perhaps his future work will be better edited.

I really did enjoy the story, though.

After reading this novel, I opened my Amazon account to order a copy for a friend and decided to post a review.

It took less time to finish than I expected because I never found a place I wanted to stop reading. The story deals with the emotional aspects of two dispirited men finding and getting to know each other. The characters come alive and win your heart with their struggle to cope with the past and start a new life in the remote west Texas desert. The setting made me wonder what it would be like to live in such a vast and open terrain, where just opening your eyes is one of life's greatest rewards. It's a well-paced, entertaining story, the kind you don't want to see come to an end.

I rated it five stars even though at times the author seems to be trying to hard. It's Brant's first novel, so as thoughtfully written as it is, I found his enthusiasm forgivable. I'm looking forward to his next book.

Unfortunately, this is a pretty bad book. The author means well, but that doesn't automatically translate into good writing. First, I think the book is too long; at least a hundred pages could have been cut. There is way too much time spent describing fairly meaningless action (like the 3 or 4 times on the outdoor shower). Secondly, the dialogue is not remotely believable--all of the characters are amazingly articulate on their innermost thoughts and sound like they're giving speeches, not having conversations. And thirdly, the plot of the book is both obvious and ridiculous.

Some of the early scences between the two main characters are kind of sexy, which is why I'm giving this 2 stars rather than 1, but I cannot at all recommend this book.

I received an unsolicited invitation via email to read this book. I got no further than the writer's description of his novel on amazon before realizing (a) that this was not a book I would be finishing in this lifetime and (b) exactly why vanity/POD presses are sucking the life out of queer fiction.

Shouldn't someone who calls himself a writer be downright humiliated not to know the difference between "losing" and "loosing"? (And he does it twice, so it's not just a typo.) Or between "alter" and an "altar"?

Go do a search for the author's name on the net and you'll find his site, where you can read an excerpt from the novel (which isn't posted here, for some reason). I can't even really get up the energy to be mean about the book. In fact, it doesn't make me mad, it makes me depressed -- depressed because people seem to believe there's a need for this kind of writing; depressed because no one has bothered to give the author decent criticism or to teach him how to write or, if someone has, depressed that he's ignored it; depressed because rehashing the same, tawdry potboiler of a formulaic low-rent Harlequin romance novel (but with an all-male cast) actually strikes someone as a project that elevates queer literature.

No one denies that the reason Americans are obese is that we keep cramming our faces with high-calorie, no-substance food. Why don't we worry that our minds are growing equally flabby and stagnant on a diet of writing of this kind?

I don't argue that we must confine ourselves to reading Proust or Susan Sontag. I argue for a climate of literature in which what is published substantially justifies its own existence. Other than the writer's desire to have a book--which is the vanity that POD publishers exploit--there's no reason for this one to exist. Real writers have a responsibility to something other than themselves. Everyone else is just word-processing.