Preston & Child – The Obsidian Chamber – Review

 

The Obsidian Chamber follows the Crimson Shore, bringing the tale full circle; #15 and #16 respectively. Arguably one is not required to read the Pendergast series in order. Though reading these 2 novels consequentially, made the reading experience, for me at least, that much more enjoyable. See my review on Crimson Shore:

https://sychronicity1.blogspot.com/2022/08/preston-child-crimson-shore-review.html

Obsidian is a volcanic glass formed when lava extruded from a volcano cools rapidly with minimal crystal growth. It is an gneous rock. (Wikipedia) The Obsidian “Chamber” in the novel is a “meditation” space, made from the substance, used by our antagonist located on an island in Key West. To reveal who our antagonist is might be a spoiler for some (if so, stop reading now) though Agent Pendergast's evil twin, Diogenes, appears to be alive.

Pendergast's mysterious “ward” is the main character in this tale. While Pendergast is assumed dead by drowning, as told in the previous novel, Constance is living once again in the underground chambers below 891 Riverside Drive in an attempt to deal with the loss of her protector and love, Agent Pendergast.

A character in this series that is only mentioned occasionally is Pendergast's Chauffeur and bodyguard, Proctor. Late in the morning, Proctor is attacked from behind, a hypodermic needle pressed against his throat. Proctor recognizes the voice as he slips into unconsciousness. He wakes up a few minutes later to see Constance being pushed into a black SUV and racing off into the streets of Manhattan. Proctor gives chase, following Constance and her kidnappers across the planet ending up in the deserts of Africa.

(I felt sorry for Proctor at the book's end).

I've always been intrigued by the character Constance Green. She is a throwback to the 19th-century New York elite. I believe the character was introduced in The Cabinet of Curiosities so long ago. As the series progresses, we gain insight into the beautiful woman's mysterious past. In The Obsidian Chamber, her past is revealed as her strange connections to the Pendergast family line.

Personally, when reading Gothic tales and Science Fiction, I must consciously turn on my 'suspension of disbelief”, to enjoy the story. Not so in this series because over so many years, the characters and their ongoing adventures has become a part of my imaginary-reading world.

The Pendergast series is recommended to readers for pure entertainment.

Thoughts on Character

 

Strong feelings do not necessarily make a strong character. The strength of a man is to be measured by the power of the feelings he subdues not by the power of those which subdue him.

William Carleton

This quote reminds me of the writings from the famous Roman Emperor and Stoic, Marcus Aurelius, whose philosophy centers around self-control, one's mind and specifically one's negative emotions that we all possess as human beings.

To have this ability requires a presence of mind, "mindful" of the present moment and the appropriate response to a situation or individual.

This does not come natural to the human being.

Similar to all the Virtues, patience and presence of mind needs practice like riding a bike or playing the piano.

Next time you're doing the dishes or washing the car, attempt to remain in present time and not let your mind wander - you'll find it very difficult. (I have).

A lot of us have strong feelings about our own opinions, our egos, and the need to be right can cause one to 'react' rather than 'respond' after thinking about what has just been said or done.

To subdue or temper and be aware of one's negative emotions is a sign of true character.

You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one."
Virtue or true character are not innate but "hammered and forged" throughout a life time. 

James A. Froude
English historian (1818 - 1894)

You may be an interesting ""character" (funny, eccentric or charming), but to have character is an entirely different thing.

Something I consider...

Gustav Klimt & 'fin de siecle' Vienna

The painting above, the portrait of the famous philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein’s sister, Margarete Stonborough-Wittgenstein is one of my favorite paintings by the Austrian, Gustav Klimt, (1862-1918) then founder and president of the Wiener Sezession (Vienna Secession) in 1897.

The Vienna Secession is considered by most art historians as the first “Art Noveau” movement at the turn of the century. (Some would argue this point)

Klimt was academically trained in the “realist” or “Neo-classical” style thus his later work in experimentation as part of the “Vienna Secession” revealed a sophisticated technique. (The traditionalists’ of the time labeled his work “pornographic”)

The so-called mandate of the Vienna Secession, (although they claimed to have no mandate) was to provide the opportunity for new artists with varying styles to get their work shown. Preceding German Expressionism, the artist moved from “artisan” to “artist”, no more dependent on rich patronage to merely paint “portraits” of the wealthy, but brings art forward away from Neo-classicism, so prevalent in pre WW 1 Austria at the time.

Pre WW1 Vienna has had a revival of fascination for academics and historians over the last twenty years. It was a the centre of “culture” in Europe, or as the journalist and radical, Karl Kraus wrote during this period, fin de siecle Vienna was the “research laboratory for world destruction”. Vienna was a hot bed of innovation: the birth place of Zionism and Nazism; Sigmund Freud developed Psychoanalysis, (Margarete shown above was one of Freud’s patients) and architecture, planted so firmly in neo-classicism or the neo-gothic style brought the art form into what is now called modernism, led by a friend of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Adolf Loos.

The reason these particular painting has a strange attraction for me is that it reveals, although subtly, Art’s radical change just prior and after WW1. The world changed drastically after WW1, and fin de siècle Vienna was at the center of this change in artistic sensibilities and overall “culture” across the board.

Karl Kraus’ words, that Vienna was a “research laboratory for world destruction” in retrospect were certainly prophetic.

Artists, writers, philosophers, architects, poets and scientists moved forward during a time Europe experienced two world wars which could have led to the destruction of the entire planet with the introduction of the Atomic bomb.

For me, history irrevocably shifted in fin de siècle Vienna – and the artist, Gustave Klimt was a major contributor to this radical change.

Harlan Coben – WIN – Review

 

As all of Coben's novels are original in their own right, WIN, however, stood out to me as mainly a study in characterization, specifically the main protagonist, Windsor Horne Lockwood the III. Yes this novel has all of the Coben signatures: intricate plots, shady characters, multi-layered heroes and his obligatory three-time twist at the end. WIN does as well, though we are in the mind of an egocentric oligarch, a terribly wealthy individual with his own moral code and high standards of what constitutes real Justice. The sub-title of the novel, If you Lose you Die, certainly sums- up our main character.

Like all great rock concerts, the novel begins with a bang.

Win (Windsor) is on court-side at a basketball game, sitting beside a famous rapper and another celebrity of some renown. It's the last 30 seconds of the game and it could go either way. While everyone else is focused on the game, Win stares across the court at the other team's assistant coach. All his concentration is on the burly, sweaty, baseball-cap-wearing dude. The game ends and Duke University won by a single point. (Duke is Windsor's Alma mater) While the crowd gathers on the court to congratulate their team, Win continues to focus on the man.

The 'after game party' is scheduled across town. The assistant coach is given the wrong directions, leading to a vacant warehouse. In a dark hallway, he meets out protagonist, who with martial art precision, destroys the man, leaving him a cripple for life. Why?

It is here that Windsor begins describing his privileged life. He comes from a distinguished American family that has more money that they could possibly spend in 100 lifetimes. Living in Manhattan, he travels with a constant driver, and of course a helicopter when he needs to get to his destination in a hurry. We discover he once was a consulted for the FBI, and his money and connections gives him an edge, opening many doors and avoiding the law. It is well known that the wealthy have a different justice system to everybody else. The wealthy for the most part are untouchable, and Win uses this societal anomaly to his advantage.

The next day after the coach is assaulted, two FBI agents show up at Win's offices. He travels with them across town to New York's West side where a recluse is discovered murdered. In the apartment are signs of a hoarder. Though hidden in a corner is a Vermeer painting, stolen some years past from the Lockwood family. One of their Picasso's was also stolen but is no where to be seen. Most damning is a leather briefcase with Win's initials etched on the top. This of course places Win and his family as prime suspects. At this stage, the games afoot.

Windsor is an odd character and displays all the tell-tale signs of a card carrying sociopath. He seems to be aware of this fact, though makes an effort to tell the reader he has empathy. He really only cares for himself and finds it difficult to relate to his 'biological' daughter, who upsets his wholly narcissistic ways.

Despite the egocentric oligarch telling the tale, the story is a well constructed mystery. The ending is well tied up in the last 30 pages of the book.

Entertaining for an afternoon read.

A Young Writer's Diary (3)

December 3, 1951

The famous Parisian café society, the literati, lends itself accurately to the many descriptions writers have made over the last century. Everyday for three to five hours I would sit outside surrounded by an array of humanity: French, German, Swiss, Russian et al. putting pen to paper, drawing and painting. I’d attempt to express the tales that continually ran through my little mind…but something was missing…heart or deep passion?

Something or someone was missing…

I was tired of the French communists believing that it was “the” answer to the world’s problems.

I refuse to join their meetings but they’re relentless…

Stalin and Hitler were always neck and neck in the evil stakes, but history focuses on the German’s…Stalin makes Hitler look like a school ground bully. But the French intellectuals were either socialist or died in the wool Marxists’… what fools they are. It seems that good intentions (in ignorance) are paved to Hell.

The new year was approaching and I was determined to finish my book..

My beautiful partner and son had plenty of money, as she came from Austrian aristocratic stock, and her family managed to maintain their wealth. She loved me and our son and she continued to support me in my writing pursuits.

So I would return to our little flat and she would be reading to Karl in French, English, German or Russian, depending on the night, and I would arrive with my M.S, half drunk, self absorbed, selfish and grumpy.

Magi would always insist on reading my day’s work.

On that night she was not happy, as I had written not a single word because of self pity and alcohol, and because on that particular day, artistic neurosis took precedence.

My excuse, as always, was “writer’s block.

Magi kissed me tenderly and said, “Tomorrow you’ll write pages of beautiful prose, right? Now love, Karl.

Karl was Magi’s son from an unfortunate encounter during the war, but I loved him like he was my own.

My little boy was not only special, but a miracle. At four years of age he’d ask, “Dada, French or English?”

Thus we would read a book in the language of my choice, usually English or French.

The little man would fall asleep…and I would too.

Then everything changed.