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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
4 and 1/2 Stars, Really, April 13, 2004
You know some books are like a roller-coaster ride (or at least they're described that way on the blurb.) This book is like a roller-coaster ride that has sections of track missing (intentionally) so that you unexpectedly plummet to new portions of track. It's dizzying in the best sense of the world. It begins in a future (note: not THE future) with museum-worker Will discovering an odd discrepancy in a Victorian painting. I dare go no further in describing the plot, but it's hilarious, exciting, inventive, unexpected, and fresher than a new coat of apple-green paint. I loved it. Warning: I was very distressed early on over a plotpoint (you'll know what I mean), but don't let it stop you--in this book, plotpoints are made to be broken ... it is about time travel, after all. This is a sparkling, marvellous book. It's only my second Rankin (I read Hollow Chocolate Bunnies first) so I come to him with a neophyte's enthusiasm that will hopefully remain undimmed with time. Note: a 3 star ranking from me is actually pretty good; I reserve 4 stars for tremendously good works, and 5 only for the rare few that are or ought to be classic; unfortunately most books published are 2 or less.
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10 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Treasure Waiting (all too patiently) to be Discovered, March 17, 2004
If anyone reads my reviews, they will realize that I only bother with either outstanding works or, conversely, those that are ridiculously over-praised about which the reader must be warned. Every once in a while, however, I write to correct a grievous wrong. Robert Rankin is the British author of over 20 novels few of which have even made it to this country; none of which have been given the credit they deserve. This is a crime against nature that makes global warming appear no more than a pin-prick. Most, if not all, of Rankin's work could fall under the rubric of "Science-Fiction". But that genre isn't nearly large enough to hold the mind of Robert Rankin. It is impossible, in so limited a space, to even begin to describe the plot of "Witches of Chiswick". Suffice to say it is about time-travel. But that's not the point. As Roger Ebert has noted about films (and by extension any work of art) it's not "what they are about, but how they are about it." And, oh, how this is "about it". There has rarely been as funny, as inventive, as complex, as clever, as... well, you get the idea... as this. In fact, with the exception of the (later-in-time) works of Jasper Fforde, I can only think of a slew of books bearing the name "Rankin" that even come close. Will you like it? Simple test; here are some other Rankin titles: "The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse", "Nostradamus Ate My Hamster", "The Raiders of the Lost Carpark", "Armageddon the Musical". If these titles alone do NOT make you an instant fan who wants IMMEDIATELY to read the books, then, no, you will not like them. You will also be marked a wrong-thinker who should be drummed out of the literary establishment, but, hey! it's up to you.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Periodically clever, consistently amusing- just don't expect it to make a lot of sense, October 5, 2007
At one point in The Witches of Chiswick our protagonist (one of numerous William Starlings in the novel) says "If this were a book or a movie, the critics would tear it to pieces, saying the hero was two dimensional and the entire sorry business unconvincing and totally plot-led."
The author makes a number of references like this (characters refer to things that `happened in earlier chapters' or point out continuity problems in the story). The author is essentially winking at the reader, as if to say "We both know this is all pretty silly."
The plot here is absurd, convoluted, and seems not to have been entirely thought out. The pleasure in the novel comes, not from a plot that really doesn't make much sense, but rather from the writing itself. Rankin has a writing style that demands to be read out loud (if not actually spoken, at least read out loud in one's own head.)
The entire novel has an amusing tone but I can't say that anyone ever caught me laughing out loud while I read it. It did have me smiling most of the way though. This is a novel that features a boy who was raised by snails (they call him Snail Boy of course), talking vegetables that you insert in your ear, and a cabal of pinch-faced witches who fancy quilting and world domination. The novel portrays John Merrick (the Elephant Man) as an oversexed alien human hybrid spy, Queen Victoria (God Bless Her) as a party girl who parades around in diaphanous outfits wearing nothing else but high heeled clogs, Oscar Wilde as a `ladies man', and HG Wells as an invisible (literally), obnoxious and frustrated scientist.
The Witches of Chiswick is amusing enough* but lacks the big laughs needed to inspire a `four star' rating. Its incoherent plot falls apart near the end, leaving loose ends dangling everywhere. Very little of what happens makes any sense. The Witches of Chiswick may not be as funny or as inspired as Adam's The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, but if you like your science fiction mixed with humour (1 part clever, 3 parts silly) the Witches of Chiswick is an oddly entertaining novel.
* The asterisks at the bottom of the page provide some of the funniest bits in the novel.
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