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Steven Won durrenwon — "Deliciously creepy"? True. I had high hopes for quite a while. But the end was really, really disappointing. Big no-no for gothic lit.

Ryan Wheatcroft ryanwheatcroft — the first story was ATROCIOUS, but the second (a buffy-esque heroine) is a bit better. no idea why i'm hanging in there...hoping it will get better?

Ellis Oconnor ellisoconnor — Anyone who has ever owned a lab knows that every word of this book is true.

Edmon De edmondeharo — As a Murakami fan, this was a middle of the road book for me. While I was certainly compelled by the story, it didn't have the beautifully dreamy imagery of The Windup Bird Chronicle. On the flipside, it was a bit less obtuse than Hardboiled Wonderland and the Edge of the World. Read this if you enjoy metaphysical philosophy combined with Oedipal fatalism and a twist of pop-culture iconography. (I give away nothing by telling you that Colonel Sanders features in a significant way.)

Tolga Darende tolcha — Woe Prometheus who brought the puny, cold, shivering humans fire to warm themselves, stolen from the gods, by no means intended for the non-divine fleshed mortals. Woe Theo Griepenkerl who brings a lost Gospel to the hordes of Christianity, a very human document recounting the last days of Jesus, as told by Malchus, not touched by the mythic alterations and connections of the later accepted Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Sealed away, revealed by an Iraqi bomb and a happenstance of place and opportunity, Mr. Griepenkerl discovers in the belly of a two thousand year-old goddess statue (symbolism much?) an Aramaic scroll, preserved from oxygen and eyes, offering the witnessed account of Jesus' very human, very messy, death. In a fit of scholarly euphoria (and egregious ethical behavior), Theo snatches the scroll, smuggles it to Canada, translates the Aramaic, marvels at the whigny and torrid writing, pursues publishing, engages the junkets and book tour, gets threatened and harassed and other nasty things, all while delivering, without even a slight pondering as to the religious ramifications of the text he has discovered, an incendiary Fifth Gospel, soon to be heralded and maligned as the Fire Gospel. Theo is funny, in an I'm-laughing-and-rolling-my-eyes-AT-him-not-with-him sort of way; he is a character that allows you to feel a slight touch of pity since he is rather a loser, while also inclining you to slap him about the head since he is indeed quite a loser. On the book world end, I enjoyed the very familiar scenes of book store readings and signings, the badgering of publishers and bilking of authors, the wry attempt to wring something of literary quality from pap. This could be a fun and escapist read, yet Faber still offers that thread of mythic touchstone that I have come to cherish from this series - the modern day Promethean fire trapped within the binding of a book. Faber's epilogue contains a germ of what the whole Canongate Myth series is truly about: when he states on the final page 213, "we speak of things that cannot be spoken. We seek to store understandings in our gross flesh...we try our best to tell a story," he underscores what each contemporary author is striving toward with their accounts of mythic story. It is a beautiful and inspiring thing, this attempt to store the ineffable qualities within ourselves and our stories.