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Star Trek, The Next Generation
- By: Peter David
- Narrated by: Jonathan Frakes
- Length: 2 hrs and 47 mins
Ship's counsellor Deanna Troi mysteriously falls ill...and dies. But her death marks the start of an incredible adventure for Commander Riker - an adventure that takes him across time, pits him against one of his closest friends, and forces him to choose between Starfleet's strictest rule and the one he calls Imzadi. Read by Jonathan Frakes, and enhanced with sound effects!
- By Deborah Cannard on 16-03-19
I did not think Jonathan Frakes was a really good reader until I remembered to adjust the speed from 0,9 up to normal :D
This book is enjoyable, anyway, not because of his performance which was okay, but nothing of a special treat; and not because of the storyline itself - I am not a huge fan of tampering-with-time plots, but there were intricate, subtle and reflective stories in TNG - "Parallels" for example, maybe not a famous hit but memorable to me. "Imzadi" does not have much style or insight to talk about. But it still gives the nostalgic sense of coming home, as it always should be with tie-in books (especially if you have just finished watching TNG for the first time and do not really want to be critical). Perhaps a number of alternate homes, unbreakable and unmortgageable to carry in our hearts, is the main thing that TV shows can give us.
With that, I understand Peter David wasn't ever involved in writing scripts for the series, although his novelizations were appraised. I should say that more than once the characters sounded different from how I remember them (Frakes's voicing unfortunately did not help). Nonetheless, it was nice to let Data, of all the crew, play his own part in the story and get, as well as the fourth pip to his collar, yet another touch of humanity to his character.
I Capture the Castle
- By: Dodie Smith
- Narrated by: Jenny Agutter
- Length: 12 hrs and 18 mins
"I write this sitting at the kitchen sink" is the first line of a novel about love, sibling rivalry, and a bohemian existence in a crumbling castle in the middle of nowhere. Cassandra Mortmin's journal records her fadingly glamorous stepmother, her beautiful, wistful older sister, and the man to whom they owe both their isolation and poverty: Father. The author of one experimental novel, and a minor cause celebre, he has since suffered from writer's block and is determined to drag his family down with him.
funny and well written
- By Patricia on 22-05-06
This book gave me mixed feelings. First, I was intrigued; the style of the opening pages seemed unusual, though in a slightly deliberate way. I’d say, whatever the narrator claims, it’s obvious that right from the start her writings were meant to become a real book, not merely a journal. And luckily hers is a very characteristic family to ‘capture’, even if it takes just a second look to call it properly dysfunctional. Whether young Cassandra really is a most charismatic narrator, I’m not sure. It makes you think of Jane Austen but without her quick-wittedness and social insight. See what’s left?..
I don’t know why, but the moment when Cassandra lists off her considerations about having refused a walk with Stephen and if he would have kissed her and if she really wished that back then and if she would really mind that now, annoyed me so much that I nearly dropped the book. It sounded so girlish and pretentious and I did not feel in the least connected with the heroine. By that point, I really thought she could find a better use for her time than keeping journals, given that Stephen is the only one who brings money for the household. Anyway, it never looked like diaries of a 17-year-old girl as much as memories of a 50-year-old woman longing for her youth and her native land – which the book is, in fact. However dramatic are the events towards the end of the book, the pace, the choice of words, the distant, nostalgic tone remains the same. I simply don’t believe anyone would put down phrases like “only the margin left to write on now”, but as an audiobook somehow it works better. It’s very English of course, and what matters is the atmosphere, even the hackneyed stereotypes made lovely by time and distance.
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