Customer Reviews

The Third Translation

5 star:		(20)
4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(8)
2 star:		(13)
1 star:		(53)

 

 

It really is unfair to market this novel in any way attached to THE DAVINCI CODE, either good or bad. It really has no similairities which is both good and bad. The plot moves forward well enough, and the scholarship regarding Egyptian mysticism, heiroglyphics and the Stela of Paser are well researched--but the protagonist is neither a hero or anti-hero, in fact he is pretty much the most poorly developed character in the book. And the plot resolution is so empty and open ended to make you question where the author was trying to go. Not a bad novel overall, and I see the author can handle both the heady world of acedemia and the depths of seedy sex and drug culture to equal proportion, yet a bit unsatisfying.

Maybe I just don't get out much, but I'm really surprised that writing of such abysmal quality actually gets published. There are the repetitions: page 3 - 'hieratic and demotic scripts, which are essentially the shorthand or cursive form of heiroglyphics', page 14 - 'hieratic and demotic scripts, which are essentially the cursive and everyday form of hieroglyphic writing'. (Do publishing houses still have editors on staff? Do editors actually do any work?) There is incorrect grammar. There is some of the most ridiculous, pointless plotting I've ever encountered (the narrator decides he needs to talk to his friend Alan Henry. Alan Henry is not home. The narrator tries, unsuccessfully, to get the super to let him in to his friend's apartment. Finally he uses a chisel to break in. Then nothing happens, the narrator leaves, because, DUHH, his friend is not home. ???? And why is the friend almost always referred to as Alan Henry, instead of Alan? Very weird.) But the real killer for me is the inexorable awfulness of the prose. How about this? '...ever since then it seemed as if the spirit of Zenobia bore down upon me, a puzzling sensation that shifted from bemused tolerance to possible reconciliation to straight vengeance'? The sensation of the spirit of Zenobia bearing down upon him shifts from tolerance to reconciliation etc.? Well, this would puzzle me too. And this isn't to worst of it ... this is just the point at which I decided I'd had as much bad writing as I could take.

It seems to me that perhaps this would have been a perfectly nice first draft for a novel; I just wish someone had whipped it into at least a marginally readable product before I plopped down $22.95 for it.

The Third Translation is not an easy book to like!

Our hero, Walter Rothschild, an Egyptologist at the British Museum, is an ineffectual, pathetic obsessed man, driven only by a passion for his science. Boring and weak, ineffectual as a parent, spouse and lover, indecisive, introverted, fretful and naïve, Walter generates only a vague, disinterested feeling of sympathy in the reader. The plot, on the other hand, at least contains the elements of a story that one might expect should unfold as a thriller! With the help of a powerful cocktail of drugs, alcohol and uninhibited sex, Erin, a beautiful young goth, steals a papyrus from the museum that Walter thinks may contain a vital clue to the translation of the Stela of Paser, a centuries old funerary stone. A rather stumbling investigation leads Walter to the acquaintance of Penelope, a staffer from the British Library, who helps him track the thief into the lair of a modern day Egyptian cult.

Like the earnest, trendy young people who mill about London's arty Soho district where some of Bondurant's tale is based, The Third Translation is much too ardent and takes itself entirely too seriously. Or, at least, that's what I thought at first! But, it was Walter's daughter, Zenobia, indulging in a mouthful of babbling double-speak that made me realize Bondurant was yanking on the chain of London's intelligentsia sub-culture. She spoke of her new business venture, a women's magazine:

"While I was doing my master's at Columbia, she said, I discovered that most women's studies and humanities departments were engaged in a form of hypocritical liberal fascism, victimization, and debilitating group-think strategies that eventually were swamped in a morass of ambiguity and academic jargon that prohibited the real ideas present to make a dent in anything beyond the theoretical models. This magazine is intended to change all that."

By this point in the novel, it was quite clear that Bondurant was far too skilled a writer to have constructed such meaningless drivel by mistake so, I concluded that he had set out to create it on purpose. Do not judge The Third Translation by the standards of what you were expecting to read. Rather allow it to be what it wants to be. Once that "aha" light came on for me, the novel, like the endless crescendo in a Rossini overture, built in beauty and moved from one strength to another.

And what exactly IS The Third Translation? An eloquent, dramatic description of the current understanding of translation of heiroglyphics from a purely scientific point of view; an even more eloquent philosophical statement about heiroglyphics as a reflection of ancient Egyptian culture; an unrelated series of poetic, artistic asides that use certain features of modern cosmological theories of the universe as metaphors for Egyptian writing; a masterful, darkly comic, literary criticism of London life; an emotional, deeply moving description of a few days in Walter's life as he comes to grips with his inadequacies and failings and attempts to establish a renewed relationship of sorts with his estranged daughter; and, finally, a modest mystery that, in large part, remains unsolved at the conclusion of the narrative. This lack of a real conclusion to the story is, paradoxically, still quite satisfying!

Like many other books, enjoyment of The Third Translation does not come with the first page. But, patience and perseverance will be rewarded with a real treasure!

Boy there are some thick folks out there that seem flabbergasted by the loony nature of this book and its situations. I have a word for you to look up: Satire. Or here's another: Comedy. Clearly this book is a send-up of certain genre conventions, a literary novel cloaked in the sheep's clothing of absurdity and the surreal. If you really care by page 200 what the "mystery" of the Stela is then you have really missed the boat. The situations and premise are no more ridiculous than those Bondurant is compared to on the jacket: Bellow, Zadie Smith, J. Lethem - and certainly H. Kurieshi is an influence. That's what I was expecting and that's exactly what I got. Loved it.

For the opposite reasons that I had to toss "The Da Vinci Code" onto the top of my unread pile of poorly written novels, I was happily entranced and engaged by "The Third Translation." In this novel I found all of the things that were missing with Dan Brown's narrative-Bondurant gives you original and human characters, real world sorrow and confusion that one expects in good literature, unsettling and wonderful plot movements, and the confident craft of tension that is seen more often in the works of Chabon and Irving.

Matt Bondurant is a novelist with a long and brilliant career ahead of him-rarely have I picked up a first novel from a new writer and been so impressed with the characters, tension, and craft of the narrative. Unlike the pulp mysteries that "The Third Translation" is compared to, this novel is filled with brave and original characters who challenge us with their particular obsessive behaviors-there is no comparison between the obtuse brilliance of Bondurant's Walter Rothschild and the "Indiana Jones" mimicry of Dan Brown's Robert Langdon. It is a shame that these two novels are even being compared, and it is a disservice to Bondurant's craft that they are mentioned in the same breath. That said, if one enjoys the pressure and tempo of novels like TDVC, I would recommend they take the next step into the realm of literary suspense that Bondurant represents so splendidly.

Bondurant intersperses complicated Egyptology within the constricts of the novel (a difficult task in itself) as the plot runs us through the London underground, the British Museum, Soho, Covent Garden, etc. His adept handling of this monumental task is tempered with the wonderful humor of the novel, not to mention the great pathos he develops for the main characters (not since Ignacious J. Reilly from "A Confederacy of Dunces," have I fallen in love with such an unloveable character). But more than all of these great qualities, this novel is written with great care and great ability-Bondurant mixes the complicated axioms of the scholarly with the equally poignant world of the mad and fetid London club scene. Often, this transition from the sterility of the British Museum to the urine soaked cobbled streets of Soho reminds me of those transitional moments of cytology and whale lore in "Moby Dick."
Beyond all of this, however, TTT is a fun and uproariously wild ride that will make you ache for the feral madness of London. It is human, absurd, wonderful. It is literary, scholarly, intense, and untamed. If you are like me, you will consume this one in a day, then start over in order to discover what you might have missed on the first read. Don't miss the boat, as some reviewers obviously have--this is a great, poignantly written and crafted, new novel.

A few readers have complained that the writing is verbose, the characters are underdeveloped, and the storyline is dull. While I don't agree with these reviews, I also don't completely disagree, as I see two reasons for them.

First, the editing of this novel was poorly done, and I haven't seen a review here so far that has stated otherwise. This, I believe, is the reason why certain parts of the novel aren't as "polished." I am somewhat familiar with Bondurant's short stories that have appeared in several different literary magazines, and so I hardly believe that this problem is on his end.

Secondly, it seems that the marketing team sniffed a potential goldmine in this novel since its storyline is vaguely suggestive of the new historical-thriller genre that's been swamping the bestseller stands ever since The DaVinci Code. In short: a marketing disaster. The fact that pretty much everyone who's rated this book so far either loved it or hated it isn't a coincidence. Many people here apparently expected a DaVinci Code-like story featuring a dashing, charming, jack-of-all trades sort of guy who, along with some drop-dead gorgeous female archaeologist/scientist/whatever as his sidekick, solve historical mysteries together and live happily ever after. If this is the kind of stuff you're looking for, you should probably stick to Dan Brown. What you'll find here is a frumpy old man with limited social skills as your "hero," along with the zany little quirks of odd characters and London SoHo.

I have no idea what this talk is about the characters in this novel being underdeveloped, but I'm seeing a familiar trend--the people saying this are the same ones who wanted and expected a DaVinci Code. Again, blame the marketing--not the author. I actually might argue that Walter Rothschild's character is overdeveloped. We know that he generally is an unlikeable guy--as are most protagonists in literary novels--but because this novel is written in first-person under his point of view, his unfriendly nature is evident on every page, and because he doesn't have any redeemable qualities--being extremely funny or witty for example--that's quite a lot to ask of your readers who have to go through 300 or so pages like that.

In short, I believe that Bondurant is a promising up-and-coming writer, and I really hope that his next novel--which I look forward to reading--doesn't get such an unfair rep like this one did.

I really, really hate giving a bad review to anyone but after spending the cost of a hardcover version of this book, I feel I have earned the right. I anticipated the arrival of this book and expected to be engrossed in an Egyptian quest adventure. Au contraire...I never did totally understand why the third translation was important or what it meant. Way too much time and way too many words were spent on directions and locations within the city of London and elsewhere. Not to mention the time spent on the "hero's" boring background. The primary character was about as boring and lackluster as they come and his relationships basically made no sense. The quest made no sense and engendered no interest whatsoever. I think the author is a capable writer and I am sad to be so negative. But he needs to develop more interesting and gripping style and plot devices. The writing is good and with some pzzzazzz, his books have great promise.

I will start by saying that I read more history than fiction, but I really enjoyed this book. I found it well crafted and compelling.

The Third Translation is many different things. It is one part chaotic adventure. The reader is led through the streets of London on a desperate search for an invaluable artifact that has been stolen from the British Museum. It is imperative that this piece is returned and I was completely pulled into the story and felt the urgency of the search as if it were my own. I won't try to summarize the plot any further, as other reviewers have done a much better job than I could, but suffice it to say, the Third Translation is a wild ride.

But, the adventure/mystery aspect of the Third Translation shouldn't be overemphasized at the expense of underemphasizing what else this book offers. For readers who like character driven stories, the Third Translation won't disappoint. Walter Rothschild is a middle aged, American Egyptologist with an ex-wife and a twenty- something daughter. He and I share, except for perhaps a love of ancient history, nothing in common. In fact, I probably have much more in common with the heroines of the hugely popular chic-lit novels. But the Third Translation did what good literary fiction does - it allows the reader to identify and empathize with someone very unlike themselves. And thats the mark of good literary fiction. The characters in this work are dynamic and well developed and for this reason, combined with a compelling story line (which I feel another reviewer has misunderstood) this work will satisfy readers of all types and interests.

I am excited to see what Mr.Bondurant produces next.

This is a funny, madcap adventure written in a delicate, poetic prose style. The situations are absurd at times, and clearly that is the point. The author seems to want to poke fun at certain genre conventions; you might view this as the "anti-Da Vinci Code" in this respect. I think he is mocking the genre while putting together quite a character study. Dr. Rothschild is a well-developed character, a befuddled man who makes poor decisions. Like a lot of people I know. His affection for his estranged family is real, and there are some real heartfelt moments in this book. But the wrestlers are hilarious, and a bit of very British-style monty python toilet humor. More about the author's twisted love of London than anything else, if you are an anglophile then you will love this fresh take.

The Third Translation is an entertaining story of mystery, translation and travel. It follows Walter, a cryptographer and archeologist through his life of obsession. Starting as a child he has been driven by ruins and finds himself middle aged, with nothing but his work and a translation that he isn't getting very far on. During his trials, he meets a girls that changes his life. He chases his career and life to rescue an ancient text.

This book was sold as a new Da Vinci Code, which it is not. It was a fun story but was missing the pull and detail that The Da Vinci Code had. It is worth reading if you are not set looking for the same type of action/adventure that you got out of Dan Brown's books.