The other day I asked the question (here) "why the hell is Hannibal Lecter wearing a mask in Dimension Films' upcoming Hannibal Rising?" The response from people ranged from "I agree" to "go read the flippin' book." I had planned on reading the book, that is until I read the rash of reviews that hit this week. Want to see one? Read on for Entertainment Weekly's "D" rated review of Thomas Harris' Hannibal Rising, which is now available at book stores everywhere. Will the movie be just as bad? If you have a chance to read the book, feel free to post your comments below.
In 1981's Red Dragon, Thomas Harris' first Lecter novel, the cunning, diabolical killer manipulates a psychotic murderer and a detective, even though he is ensconced in his cell, perusing Alexandre Dumas' Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine. I lay in bed reading Red Dragon one night, immersed in the story — but also suddenly, dreadfully alert to all the night sounds pouring in my window: wind-rustled leaves, distant train whistles, footsteps on the street (dog walkers, I hoped, and not serial killers). When I closed the book, I was gripped with heart-thumping fear.
Unfortunately, Harris's next outing, The Silence of the Lambs, didn't thrill me nearly as much (though I enjoyed the movie, since Anthony Hopkins was terrific as Hannibal and Jodie Foster nearly as good as FBI agent Clarice Starling). The third volume, Hannibal, made me grit my teeth in annoyance. Not only did it read like a Frommer's guide to Florence, I thought the last chapter — which followed Hannibal and Clarice to their new life together in South America — was absurd.
It was with some trepidation that I approached Hannibal Rising, billedas a prequel, which skids into stores just before the movie's opening in February. I knew I was in trouble when the prologue promised the reader could ''watch as the beast within turns from the teat and, workingupwind, enters the world.''
Hannibal, no surprise, turns out to be descended from one Hannibal the Grim. But the real cause of his depravity has less to do with his aptly named ancestor than with what happened to his family during World War II after they fled their Eastern European castle, ahead of the Nazis. Specifically, the fate of his little sister Mischa (who, cutely enough, once called her big brother ''Anniba'') is the key to his psyche. Thoughastute readers of Hannibal already know that Mischa was eaten, the particulars have never before been revealed. How Mischa was consumed, and how Lecter avenged her death, is the story here, and it's told in choppy fashion, with stilted dialogue and paper-thin characters (the beautiful Japanese woman, the dogged police inspector, the evil Russian army deserters). The violence, though stunning, is so poorly described it doesn't frighten.
Harris will rightly be remembered as the creator of Hannibal Lecter, who is, in many ways, the best and worst of humanity combined — not to mention a cannibal gourmand, the only one I know of in literature. But Harris should have stifled Lecter after Silence. Hannibal gave me indigestion, and Hannibal Rising didn't leave me hungry for more either.
I thought Silence and Hannibal were both great novels, tho the movie of Hannibal reminded me more of The Muppets what with Mason and all. EW is certainly not a source I readily embrace for reviews. I prefer to make up my own mind, not have it made up for me. I noticed that HR got bad reviews on Amazon, but so did hannibal which I thought was very well done and I loved the creepy end - Perfect for Hannibal's strange disturbing world. I have yet to read HR but I also have yet to judge it. I will pick it up eventually, as I have yet to be disappointed in Mr. Harris' work.
Tom Harris was hardly the most prolific of writers until he got tied into a multi-million dollar 3 book deal starting with Silence.
His disdain for this was in every line of (the novel) Hannibal, which was every inch a two-fingered salute to Lecter's "fans". Harris clearly resents the attention given to the character, but is savvy enough to take the money and run.
For me, Hannibal was the best, second Silence. But in the book Hannibal Rising, it was not a treat. It was a long tiredsome, and very very boreing. Even though it gave intresting point of views. The book reminds me of a movie-tie-in book, meaning that the book was like from a movie onto book. It did not let the imagination run wild. So, i think if you pick this up, your going to find, that you wish you kept your twenty some odd bucks!
I'm in the process of reading "Hanniabl Rising" and I find it engrossing, but certainly not up to par with his previous efforts. For avid readers of the series there are fun tidbits to chew on, but nothing as sumptuous as what one found in "Hannibal" for instance. I hope Thomas Harris returns Hannibal to his evil beginnings if he's intent on writing another Lecter variation.
Just finished the book myself. Its an entertaining revenge/vigalante book. Charles Bronson would be pleased. Its certainly not on par with Dragon, Silence, or Hannibal, but those are lofty comparisions, in my mind. Harris writes at a brisk pace and this book is a quick read. While the book was far from perfect, its certainly better than some of the dreadful reviews its getting. If you like the character of Hannibal Lecter, give it a shot. There are some interesting insights into the motivation of one of the most iconic villains in recent memory.
Wow, I'm wondering whats wrong with me?! I loved it! I never go by reviews, here's a perfect example of why, seems I am in the minority and perfectly happy being here....read it and judge for yourself! Bon appetite!
Hannibal Rising to me was a brilliant edition to the series, far more entertaining than RED DRAGON and HANNIBAL the novel HANNIBAL RISING stands shoulder to shoulder with THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS.
Gone is the fat old lector and here we have a new sleeker killing machine.
HANNIBAL RISING the movie was also fucking cool, much better than the piss poor HANNIBAL and RED DRAGON movies, for me HANNIBAL RISING is up there with MANHUNTER and Silence of THe Lambs.
Lector is scary again.
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In 1981's Red Dragon, Thomas Harris' first Lecter novel, the cunning, diabolical killer manipulates a psychotic murderer and a detective, even though he is ensconced in his cell, perusing Alexandre Dumas' Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine. I lay in bed reading Red Dragon one night, immersed in the story — but also suddenly, dreadfully alert to all the night sounds pouring in my window: wind-rustled leaves, distant train whistles, footsteps on the street (dog walkers, I hoped, and not serial killers). When I closed the book, I was gripped with heart-thumping fear.
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