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Ward Just is one of the great American writers. His reporting in Vietnam stands with Ernie Pyle and Bill Mauldin as some of the sharpest war reporting.
Later in his career, Just turned towards political thrillers, but "The Weather in Berlin", despite it's Len Deighton-like title is the story of a Hollywood player past his prime, a museum piece who is suffocating in his glass display case.
When a German institution invites him to teach, and relive his greatest success--a scandal-laden masterpiece of cinema made in Germany decades-ago--he accepts. The trip renews friendships and scandals and allows him a rare second chance.
Just manages to paint his characters in vibrant HD digital color, in the black and silver of 35mm and the sun-softened pallet of memory and the independent film of the 70s. I admired the writing, and the characters, but as someone in his 40s, this book came too soon in my life, and I was left with, mercifully, an intellectual understanding and not a shared experience for this older man.
1 of 1 people found this review helpful
A great premise, but plodding and tedious. Waiting for this plot to advance is worse than watching grass grow...