5 stars

Every once in a while, I read a book that blows me away enough to deserve a 5-star rating. It stands out among the other books I read. It lingers in my thoughts even when I try so hard not to think about it. It makes me want to both cry and smile and scream in frustration. It makes me want to read it over and over and over again.

The Storyteller is that book.

How is it even possible to review a book like this? There surely can’t be any words to describe what I am feeling right now, but I will give it a go.

The last thing I expected when I picked up this book, was to be so affected by this story, but I was. I couldn’t get enough of the dark and haunting tale of Anna Leemann and Abel Tannatek, our complex storyteller. For a translated-to-English book, the writing in this story was absolutely beautiful. I’m not always a fan of intricate writing, or even slow-paced writing, but Antonia Michaelis combines the two styles in the most accessible of ways and manages to do so without estranging the reader. I was truly mesmerized by her words, by Abel’s words. For such a multifaceted and difficult character, Abel Tannatek easily engulfed me with his fairy-tale, much the same way he did to Anna.

Here is a snippet from his story:

'There was the place where all the shouted words fall into the water. They’re too weak to make it from shore to shore. I saw the words underwater, millions of them; they’re lying there on the bottom of the sea, a whole load of wrecked sentences, sentences that never reached their destination, questions from one side and answers from the other…'

Doesn’t sound like your type of thing? It doesn’t sound like my type of thing either. As admirable as writing like that is, as wonderfully skilled as writing like that is, I can so easily lose interest, become disengaged from the words, as has happened many times before with several other books. That was sort of what I expected would happen with The Storyteller. I almost thought I would be tempted to skim over Abel’s narration of his story so I could get back to the actual story, Antonia’s story. But I didn’t. I didn’t skim over a single word. I read each and every sentence of his fantastical fairy-tale, his eerily stunning fairy-tale that paralleled the murky reality the he and his sister Micha lived in. How could I not, when his words were so poignant and enthralling?

To say Abel is a remarkable character for creating such a remarkable tale that reflected and foreshadowed the truth, would be a lie. Or maybe it wouldn’t be a lie. What is your definition of remarkable? Because I thought Abel was remarkable, but then I changed my mind. But then I changed it back again. I thought he was an astonishing character from the moment he ran to his younger sister and twirled her around in the air, from the moment his words left his mouth as his entertained Micha with his stories. The love he has for Micha is so achingly perfect that, given their situation, the reader cannot help but support his character. But then, but then…we reach the end of Chapter 12. It all changed for me then. It hit me before I could even see what was coming. In a split second, wonderful Abel is no longer the storyteller; he is someone else entirely. And it devastated me. All I could think about was Anna, poor, poor Anna.

Let’s backtrack to a heart-warming scene between the two of them, because that was exactly what I did when I reached Chapter 13 and felt like I couldn’t, wouldn’t, read any more. The Abel here is the Abel I will remember from this book:

'He pulled her close and held her for a moment, so tight she could feel every single bone in his body. And somewhere between them, she felt his heart beating, fast and nervous. Hunted. He let go of her before the hug became a real hug, left her standing there, and fled from the tower.'

I did continue on, even though I was feeling a little depressed by the story at this point. Things weren’t going my way, not really. But Antonia Michaelis doesn’t disappoint. Even when I am close to not being able to take it anymore, she manages to compel me with her thrilling story line and riveting murder mysteries. Yes, there is a murder mystery to solve. More than one murder, in fact. I do love a plot that keeps me guessing, and the plot in this book did exactly that. When we finally reach the big revelation, I was rendered speechless; though a small part of me is insistent that it couldn’t have been any other way, but I wished, wished, wished it had been another way, any other way. If it had been, the book would not have had to end the way it did – an ending that destroyed me.

Looking back on it, however, I think everything that happened, including everything that made me sick to the core, enhanced the story. Each and every gritty detail made it apparent that Antonia’s story, unlike Abel’s, is no fairy-tale. The Storyteller is a spell-binding tale of love and violence and everything in between, one that is impossible to forget. In a way, I wish I could forget this book, because even while writing this review, a large part of me feels quite numb. But the other part of me, an even larger part, is thrilled to have discovered such a magnificent young-adult story and is determined to remember it for a long time.

Still not convinced? I’m not surprised; my review sounds pretty depressing. Stop by on my blog on Feb 13, 2012, where I will be kicking off The Storyteller Blog Tour and I’ll share the opening extract of the book with you.