Over the years, I've received student papers so awful, I'm tempted to just write, "Nice font choice" and move on. For Trussoni's sad book, my comment is "Nice cover." Fetching, isn't it?
However, what a surprise.
Not one of my GR friends has any mention of this book - not a review, not a to-be-read, and definitely not a wishlist pick.
Gee. I wonder why.
Several reasons come to mind. Overall, the book is a half-witted concoction clearly written in the hopes that it would become a movie, or rather the first in a series of movies, given that the book's end signals a sequel.
The Nephilim or fallen angels, who live in the midst of a somewhat Victorian-feeling society, apparently elude the notice of most mortals, despite their immense power and influence. Just how this is possible is not explained nor is angelology, which could have been somewhat fascinating, if pursued in any depth.
And, just as Maureen Dowd coined the term baldenfreude for men losing their locks, we could probably use the term wingenfreude to describe the loss of wing breadth, luster, and thickness that some of the angels are experiencing. And if the dilemma of Percival, the key male angel, sounds a bit phallic, it should. The description of Percival's former wings in contrast to his mother's flawless appendages is rife with envy and Freudian implications:
His mother's wings were gorgeous, shimmering, healthy, full-plumed. A gradation of soft color radiated from the tips, where the feathers were tiny and roseate, and moved to the center of her back, where the feathers grew large and glittering. Percival's wings, when he'd had them, had been even larger than his mother's, sharp and dramatic, the feathers precisely shaped daggers of brilliant, powdery gold."
Though a major character, Percival, our emasculated and evil angel, is not the main character. That spot is reserved for Sister Evangeline, a remarkably flat and undeveloped character, whose destiny is evident by perhaps page 10 or so of this 458-page book.
The only remotely compelling sections were those in Bulgaria, particularly concerning Celestine and Gabrielle. Just why in the hell I read this whole godawful mess can only be explained by major funkdom, when I read continuously (including some awful literature) and eat a lot of bubba-mycin (chicken soup).
Please view this review as a public service message. Save yourself from this book and its likely incarnation as a movie (imdb.com indicates that it's in development). aaargh.