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- Published on: 1656
- Binding: Paperback
Customer Reviews
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
By Blackcatlover
This looked right up my street. It was described in various places as weird and wonderful, uplifting, original...and a `biographically accurate' (this from the publisher) look at the life of Nikola Tesla, real-life scientist, genius and extremely naïve businessman.Nowadays he's no more than a footnote in the lives of other more celebrated names like Edison and Marconi. But Tesla invented AC electrical power before Edison took credit for bringing electricity to the world. And he formulated the principles of radio transmission years before Marconi's patent. He was the original mad scientist with many ideas ahead of his time - including a lot of crackpot ones - and he suffered from psychological disorders such as OCD and germ phobia. He inspired various cults throughout his life: some thought he came from Venus, others that he came from the future. He was celebrated, ridiculed, reviled, considered dangerous even. A worthy subject for a great novel then, you would have thought.Unfortunately this isn't it.The core story depicts Tesla in 1945, an octogenarian coming to the end of his days in a big New York Hotel where he's several years behind with his bill payments. A pigeon lover, he's befriended by a snooping young hotel chambermaid and fellow pigeon fancier, Louisa. He still experiments and maintains a laboratory of sorts in his room and at one stage he shorts all the electrical power within the hotel. Even at his advanced age he's still considered subversive and is being investigated by an unnamed government agency.The interaction between Louisa and Tesla provides the book with some of its most touching scenes, and this is all well and good. However, I kept wanting the book to settle into a linear narrative and I was disappointed: it is too unfocussed and flits about all over the place.For example, during the course of ` The Invention of Everything Else', we go back into Tesla's past: back to the 1890s when as a young engineering graduate, he's scammed by Edison into putting Edison's commercial laboratory in order for a promised, but not delivered fee. Further back to his birth in Serbia and the early death of his brilliant, talented elder brother, for which he'll always carry guilt. Back to episodes from various periods involving his friends Robert and Katherine - which Louisa reads about when looking over the private papers he stores in his hotel room. In addition to this we also establish Louisa's back-story... and her father, Walter's.This is all very infuriating, and the novel for me, entirely loses its way amid all the flashbacks and sub-plots. It's far too patchy, and while undoubtedly containing plenty of original ideas and passages of astonishing writing of great beauty and insight, it doesn't form a cohesive whole.For example, at one stage Tesla is still meeting, and confiding in his great friend Sam Clemens (i.e. Samuel Langhorne Clemens - Mark Twain). But this is 1945 and by that time Twain had been dead 20 years...And a time machine makes its appearance. This is an invention of Azor, an old friend of Louisa's father, but he gets some help in fixing it from Arthur, Louisa's sort-of boyfriend who remembers Louisa from school - although she doesn't remember him. Azor wants to take Tesla to the future where he feels his ideas belong. During a `test drive' - pursued by the army, Azor and Walter seem to travel back in time, and then forward, again. Or do they? This is never fully explained to my satisfaction. And what does it all mean anyway? Throw in a couple of passages of magical realism, and you have one big melting pot of too many ideas and styles.Like I said earlier, this has all the ingredients to be a great story, and author Samantha Hunt is an undeniably gifted writer. Instead it all ends unsatisfactorily and is structurally a bit of a mess. A difficult novel to read, but not for the right reasons, it nevertheless enthralled and frustrated me in equal measure. But I cannot deny that the author's prose soars in one or two places.To award a novel of such high purpose less than 3 stars would be an insult to the author's skill. And I know a lot of people will love this novel, even if I didn't quite grasp the significance of it all.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
By Sid Nuncius
I am a physicist by training and wanted to like this book because it is about Tesla for whom I have a huge admiration (and who is honoured in science by having the unit measuring the strength of a magnetic field named after him), but the truth is that I really disliked this book.My main objection to it is the style, because it is so mannered, so overblown and so obviously striving for STYLE that it badly interferes with the story and development of character. Really brilliant writers like Wodehouse, Runyon, or Chandler, for example, can create a style which adds to, or even becomes more important than narrative. Sadly, Samantha Hunt is nowhere near that league and her attempt at individuality and quirkiness is simply irritating and very intrusive. For example, the opening of Chapter 2 begins, for no reason whatever, not just in the middle of a sentence but in the middle of a word, and turns out after more than two rather tedious pages to be a radio play which Louisa, a hitherto unknown character, is listening to. It's a pointless, uninteresting trick and simply annoyed me.As another example, later in the chapter Louisa, goes to work in a hotel. This is described thus: "Through the pale esophagus of service passages, past the stomach that is the laundry...Louisa finds herself in the tiny gallbladder of the lady employees' changing room." The digestive tract is a clumsy, unnecessary and inappropriate metaphor for the hotel's corridors which contributes nothing to either our picture or understanding of the situation. And `gallbladder'? For heaven's sake! All this, coupled with a confused and fragmented structure (not to mention an attempt at magical realism), was too much for me, and I found the whole thing to be an over-written mish-mash which in the end wholly failed to engage me and added up to very little other than a desperate and rather poor attempt at chic writing.Plainly others feel differently about this book, and many have enjoyed it. Another reviewer described the writing which I can't stand as "vibrant prose." Fair enough: tastes vary and anyone reading this review should read other reviews too because like their authors you may enjoy it. I'm afraid that I certainly didn't.
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
By Peri Urban
Samantha Hunt has created a work of perplexing charm.This isn't the first book I've read to fictionalise the ultimate nutty scientist Nikola Tesla (ref: Christopher Priest's The Prestige), but this novel is the first I've read where Tesla is placed right at the heart of the narrative. It's a testament to Hunt's skill that she makes such an other worldly character utterly believable - well, at least within the context of what is essentially a psychological fantasy.There are elements of science fiction (Hunt trained as a scientist) which are blended seamlessly with the period settings (1943). Tesla's role in the development of alternating current and radio is examined in a refreshingly non-technical way, partly through the eyes of the co-protagonist Louisa, a hotel chamber maid who befriends Tesla.This is a technically proficient and engaging read, a real page turner - to a point.There are significant weaknesses, especially with the focus of the narrative. Fantastic events are alluded to, but never resolved, making the most obvious point of reference the infuriatingly wonderful (?) film Donnie Darko. At the end you will be left wondering exactly what did happen.There are shadowy antagonists, but very little in the way of personal peril. Tesla is a very old man, so perhaps his fate is somewhat predictable, but without giving the plot away, the fate of Louisa is similarly almost never in doubt.Throughout, there are moments where the reader is convinced that the mechanics of the story telling have been cleverly subverted to some purposeful end. But once the book is finished the reader may be left with the feeling that the author was at times simply struggling to fill the space efficiently.So much of the reader's feelings about a book are wrapped up in whether or not the book delivers a convincing and meaningful narrative. Whilst The Invention Of Everything Else is a dazzling display of literary skill, it never really followed through on its promise
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