This is the complete review as it appears on my blog. Any links in the review on the blog are not reproduced here.This was a DNF. Note: minor spoilers.Set in Napoli (Naples) in Italy, this novel is one of a series, but it isn't the first in this series, and I haven't read any of the others, so that may or may not affect my take on this. I've actually been to Napoli, but the visit was so brief and it was so long ago that I barely recall it. It seems that everyone who writes detective series has to have a character they groom for their stories, and I confess that sometimes seems weird to me, but it’s undoubtedly a very commercial approach. In Dibdin's case, the character is Aurelio Zen. Dibdin was English by birth and spent only five years in Italy, so I'm not sure what his motivation was for setting his series there. Maybe it was nostalgia or a desire to set his series apart from those of other writers. Maybe it was something else.Così Fan Tutte is the name of the opera by Mozart; it's taken to mean: 'women are like that'. So there's a slight difference between it and the title of the novel. Maybe the changed title means men are like that (or perhaps everyone is like that)?! The book is supposedly published by Black Lizard but the lizard on the cover is pink! Hmm!I don’t really get novels which are set in another country and the language is English using English idiom, but (as in this particular case) unmarried women are referred to as Signora, rather than Miss or Ms. If it were in French, it would be Mademoiselle, if German, it would be Fraulein. From a writing perspective I have to ask why? What does this achieve? To me it’s an annoyance, reminding me that I'm reading a novel. It’s the same problem when the writer mentions some local meal they ate. Unless I happen to know what it is (which was only about fifty percent of the time so far in this novel!), what does it convey to me to say they ate sucho-and-sucho? Nothing. Doe sit have meaning beyond the mere word, though - to evoke a feeling or a reaction? maybe. My reaction is Oy Veh!I didn’t like the opening, which set up the requisite murder (more accurately, the first of the requisite murders). I do like that the contents shows chapter headings in English, but the headings for each actual chapter are in Italian. I don’t know why, but it’s a quirk which somehow appealed to me - and this almost completely contradicts what I said above, doesn't it?! But not quite - at least we get a translation! In that way you can learn a little Italian if you wish. The chapter headings are actually from the original libretto for Mozart's opus. After the opening chapter, the story was much more readable, and I easily got into it, enjoying the sly humor and everyone's attempts to work the Italian system to their own advantage. Unfortunately, this didn't last too long!Aurelio Zen starts out having apparently been demoted (but he proactively set it up so that he could chose the venue of his 'punishment'). This evidently is a result of something he did (or failed to do!) in a previous volume of this series. Frankly I was suspicious that this itself is a set-up and he's actually investigating something - perhaps corruption - under the guise of the demotion, but if my guess is right (which it usually isn’t!) then he sure doesn't seem to be doing much in that regard. Perhaps he really was demoted.His first act is talking to two young women, doing a favor for their mother - a very rich woman, the widow of a mobster, whose two daughters are dating street thugs. Their mother wants the relationships terminated. She and Zen plan to achieve this end by sending the girls to London for two weeks under the guise of studying in England. Zen than hires two prostitutes to lead the thugs astray to show the daughters how fickle they are. In return for this, Zen gets to rent, at advantageous terms, a nice apartment which is owned by the woman. Zen does notice that these guys have absolutely no police file whatsoever, which only makes him more suspicious of them.There's also the case of a stabbing in the dock area (a locale for which Zen is responsible). It took place after a fracas (an appropriate word since it comes from an Italian root!) between some American sailors and some Greek sailors. The guy they have in custody isn't talking. He claims he understands only English, but he says that in the thick local accent! When Zen sings snatches of some English pop songs he knows, the guy doesn’t even remotely react like he understands it.Okay, so here's what happened with this, seriously. I was going along and I just was not getting into it. I thought I was going to finish it and give it a reserved worthy, but today I actually had a choice to read this or to listen to Charlaine Harris, and despite the fact that I am starting to despise book 4 of that sucky series, I still found it easier to listen to that than to plow through more of this one, so honestly, what did that not so much as tell me, but scream at me? It's warty! It's a DNF.But it's also post-mortem time. Why could I not get interested in this? I think one reason was Dubdin's increasing use of Italian terms when everything else was in English, That doesn't impress me and was, in fact, annoying. On top of that there was one character after another paraded across the pages and not one of them made an impression on me. I could neither identify with any of them, nor develop any interest in them. So I decided to call this one and move onto something I would really like to read. Contrast this with The Salbine Sisters which really grabbed me from very early on and wouldn't let me go. Life's too short.
* * * 1/2If I were to sum up this book in one word, it would be "zany". (Or should that be "Zen-y"?) After the events of Dead Lagoon, Zen decides he'd like a bit of a rest, so he transfers to Naples, where he oversees the harbour detail and turns a blind eye to the scandalous goings-on at the police station there in exchange for being left alone. This frees up time for him to become involved in a plot hatched by a wealthy widow, who does not want her daughters becoming romantically involved with mobsters. Oh yeah, and there's also a "Clean Streets" movement taking out others affiliated with organized crime.The romantic plotline is based on Mozart's opera Così fan tutte, only here it's the men whose fidelity is being tested, not the women's. The chapter titles are also taken from the libretto for that opera. It lends a nice dramatic air to the proceedings, as does Dibdin's occasional descriptions of scenes as they might appear on a stage. And there is certainly no shortage of action: with all the hustle and bustle and confusion and general wackiness, the story resembles a splendidly executed farce.And for those of you who like the curmudgeonly aspect of Zen's character, as I do, his observations on mobile phones are not to be missed.Overall, I'd say I admired this book more than liked it, if that makes sense: I appreciated the technique and how the book was constructed, but I'd have to read it again to develop real affection for it. Still, recommended for fans of the series. You may also like it if you're a fan of the opera, but I would suggest reading at least one of the four preceding Zen books first, because this one contains some important character developments that have more of an impact if you're somewhat invested in the characters already.
Do You like book Così Fan Tutti (1998)?
I have not finished this one yet; I am half way through, but I think this may be my least favorite ZEN mystery. (I am a hopeless fan; I am working my way through them all...)This plot runs parallel to the famous opera, "COSE FAN TUTTE." I think the opera title refers to a female "tutte" ("all"); as in "Women are all like that;" whereas the book title has been altered ("TUTTI") to refer to the masculine, or inclusive, as in truly everybody, not just all women. Forgive my mangled Italian translation; I am not fluent.The chapter headings are taken from the libretto in Italian; Dibdin translates them (in his own way) into English for the Table of Contents.All very interesting and amusing, but a bit too contrived for me to focus on the mystery. Dibdin has a curious sense of humor, and there are moments in the book where I did burst out laughing, in spite of being alone in my house. This bodes well for an amusing book. I will reserve final judgement until I finish the book.++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Later: Just finished the book. I take back everything I said. The plot is a sublimely amusing farce; equal to anything from Shakespeare, as regards mistaken identity, obsessive infatuation, secret plots coming to fruition, and even Zen's poor mother. A very entertaining book; much lighter reading than most of the other Zen novels. IN this one at least he does not get his heart broken; he mostly stays above the fray, although I don't think I am spoiling anything by mentioning that he does end up in a garbage dump!Highly recommended; just a slow starter.
—Silvio111
This is my first read of a very popular British crime novelist whose hero, Inspector Zen, is a beleaguered Italian police detective who sets out to avoid getting tangled up in one crime but winds up solving another. On this occasion he has been exiled to Naples, where he doesn’t fit in with the local force but does help his landlady deal with the fact of her two daughters’ mismatched love of two low grade hoodlums. Fortunately for all, he also cracks the case of who has been inflicting vigilante justice on local Mafiosi (by squashing them in garbage trucks….), rescues an American sailor who is trying to sell a purloined copy of a forthcoming video game, and discovers that his mother had an affair…..Great for crime readers and Italophiles, not so great for purists. - See more at: http://jwlbooks.com/jack-london-revie...
—Jack London
Net als The Dying Of The Light behoort deze Cosi Fan Tutti, het vijfde deel in Dibdins Aurelio Zen-reeks, tot de meer tongue-in-cheek werken van de Britse misdaadschrijver. Deze keer is het geen binnenstebuitenkering van de klassieke whodunit, maar wil het een interdisciplinaire brug slaan naar Mozarts Cosi Fan Tutte, een opera buffa, wat een luchtiger subgenre was met Italiaanse roots. Net als in de opera (al heb ik dat wel moeten opzoeken) gaat het boek van start met twee jongelingen (in de opera jongens, in het boek meisjes) die de trouw van hun respectievelijke partners op de proef willen stellen. Ik heb er verder geen idee van of er nog veel overeenkomsten zijn, maar ik vermoed dat één en ander toch nieuw is, want Cosi Fan Tutti, dat het moderne Napels als setting gebruikt, werkt met grotendeels hedendaagse gegevens. Napels is bijlange niet de opgeruimde, transparante stad die het pretendeert te zijn, en het strekt Dibdin tot eer dat hij het haast claustrofobisch netwerk van achter- en tussenstraatjes, stinksteegjes en smalle wandelgangetjes zo goed weet weer te geven. Dit is een labyrintisch Napels van schone schijn waar een verloren gelopen toerist snel een vogel voor de kat is. Natuurlijk is er ook nog de onvermijdelijke misdaadcomponent die sinds jaar en dag aan de stad gelinkt wordt. Inspecteur Zens postvatting in de stad is een poging van zijn oversten om hem weg te stoppen in een vergeetput. Zen is minder gemotiveerd dan ooit en is bereid om het spelletje van een bevriende weduwe mee te spelen. Ze betrouwt de gladde liefjes van haar dochters niet en wil hun trouw op de proef stellen. Al snel wordt Zen echter geconfronteerd met een complot en geweld van een andere orde: in zijn district (de havenzone) vloeit plots bloed, waardoor een einde komt aan zijn rustige leventje. Als bonus is er ook nog een verdwijningenplaag die de kop op steekt. Een ondergrondse terreurgroepering die komaf wil maken met de onlosmakelijke link tussen politiek en misdaad, publieke macht en maffia, gaat wel heel driest te werk, met de nodige heisa tot gevolg. Natuurlijk komen de draden allemaal samen aan het einde.Zoals het een operabewerking betaamt is Cosi Fan Tutti lichtvoetig en speels (alleszins een pak minder mistroostig dan sommige andere van Dibdins boeken), wat meteen ook ervoor zorgt dat de ietwat geforceerde ‘literaire’ knipogen in het eerste en laatste hoofdstuk verteerbaar blijven. Voor de rest: prima schrijverij, zoals gewoonlijk, maar nergens heb je het gevoel dat Dibdin zichzelf weet te overstijgen. Het boekje leest lekker weg (nu ja, dat kan ook gezegd worden van Ons Kookboek), maar na beter werk als Vendetta, Dead Lagoon en Blood Rain is het eerder gewoontjes. Al zou Aspe vast niet klagen! (***)
—Guy
