Tempest of Tea

Irgendwie bin ich mit dem Vampier-Thema ja durch, aber ich mag nun mal Tee, deswegen habe ich dieses Buch doch gelesen. Ich bin froh, dass diese Geschichte im ersten Moment nicht so umfangreich daher kommt, denn sie fühlte sich trotzdem langwierig an.

Das Teehaus hat mir als Handlungsort sehr gefallen, aber die Charaktere und alles drum herum hat sich sehr bemüht angefühlt. Irgendwie war das alles zu glatt und stimmig. Ich weiß das klingt komisch als Kritik, aber besser kann ich es nicht beschreiben. So als wäre die Geschichte genauso angelegt, weil eine bestimmte Zielgruppe das genauso kaufen möchte.

Die Handlung kam auch ewig nicht in Gang, weil alle ständig damit beschäftigt waren sich bedeutungsvoll in die Augen zu starren und dabei ganz erregt zu atmen. Ich weiß nicht, ob ich vorher jemals so viele tiefgründige Beschreibungen von Augenfarben gelesen habe. Vor lauter Atmen und Starren blieb die Handlung ganz lange auf der Strecke.

Ich habe auch nicht ganz verstanden, warum im Laufe der Geschichte irgendwie noch der Jack The Ripper-Mythos mit verwurstet werden musste. Das wirkte Recht bemüht.

Zum Ende hin nahm das Ganze noch etwas an Dynamik zu und wurde recht spannend, aber dann war die Geschichte auch schon so halb vorbei, denn der Rest wird im zweiten Teil aufgelöst. Naja.

Werde ich den zweiten Teil lesen? Ja, weil ich einfach zu neugierig bin und jetzt natürlich wissen will wie es ausgeht. Mist.

“You don’t have to trust me.”
“I don’t.”

This book was an odd experience for me. On one hand, there were a lot of things about it that I liked. On the other hand, the way they were presented/put together kept me… detached? disengaged? throughout the story. I just couldn’t connect properly with anyone, even though the character have exactly the archetypes I often fall for and a really cool web of relationships. Another member of the book club I read this for suggested that perhaps it was hard to connect with the characters because they spent so much observing each other and commenting on each other. You read a chapter in Jun’s POV, he’s reflecting on Arthie’s or Flick’s recent actions. The next one is in Flick’s POV, and she’s focused on Jun. This kind of thing. It didn’t happen all of the time, and each of the three POV characters did have some introspective moments or personal confrontations where they were focused on their own goals. But I feel like this approach contributed to the overall sense of being outside looking in instead of getting pulled into the story.

I did like the setting a lot. It’s a Victorian-inspired world with some low-key 1920s vibes; a city filled with complex agendas, glittering mansions, and dark slums; constant nods at a larger world that has magic and elves and who knows what else. Somehow, I kept thinking of this world in terms of tabletop rpgs. Vampire: Victorian Age meets Blades in the Dark. I also enjoyed the prose, but also kind of had an ambiguous relationship with it. There are so many snappy one-liners, both in the interactions and in the characters’ inner monologues. Multiple paragraphs that are very cool and memorable in isolation, but all together they almost distract from the story. 

Speaking of things that I found distracting: what was the deal with those vague nods at the Arthurian myths? When we have an MC named Arthie who wields a mystical weapon called Calibur and that weapon is an object of a “whoever manages to wield this will save the country,“ I instinctively start searching for more allusions and connections. But I don’t think I’ve really found any? Was it just for flavor? If the aim was to create a vague association between the MC and King Arthur, maybe it was enough just to have the plot with the weapon without making the names similar.

I think in general, the book suffers often from a sort of heavy-handed, on-the-nose approach. All the contrasts are very stark. All the important points are as good as highlighted. This character is keeping a secret about X. That character needs to achieve Y to find inner peace. There’s going to be a plot twist right about now. Here are characters who are clearly struggling against imperialism and racism, but let’s not trust the reader to get it, let’s make them have a conversation where everything is spelled out. Perhaps it was this lack of subtlety that kept preventing me from getting truly engrossed.  When I read a book that’s all about secrets and lies, I expect the style to reflect it. I expect not only the plot, but the narrative in general to keep secrets and lie to me and make me guess and figure things out. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that kind of immersion here.