The Book of Dreams

Nina George carefully weaves words to construct a magical novel outlining love, and adventure. Using relatable emotions, and situations, George efficiently and convincingly builds a world (and characters) which leave you wanting more.

A beautifully written book, richly metaphorical, about hovering in the space between life and death. It follows Henri, in a coma after an accident, and how he tries to interact with his loved ones and they in turn with him. Poignant and profound, we explore the feelings, of loss, hope and grief, all at once.

Yet, even though I can appreciate the beauty of this book, it really wasn't for me.

My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

The Book of Dreams was published in Germany four years ago, but is only now being released as an English translation. In the April edition of Good Reading magazine, Nina George talks about her own experiences with the rare neurological condition of synaesthesia. After writing nearly 30 books under five different pen names, The Book of Dreams is the first time she’s written about the condition. I have to say, reading that Nina herself is a synesthete really added a layer of credibility to this novel that cemented its authenticity. All of a sudden, Samuel’s experiences of the world ceased to be only the product of research. I have always been a bit fascinated with synaesthesia, but was also slightly sceptical, simply because it’s so incredibly hard to visualise. The Book of Dreams is the first time I’ve read about the condition in such an accessible way. And as far as characters go, Samuel is pretty special, and not just because he is a synesthete.

“I can’t look another person in the eye. There’s too much there, and much of it I don’t understand. Sometimes I’m afraid that their gaze will tell me they’re about to die, which turned out to be the case with our housemaster at Colet Court and our neighbour Mrs. Logan. People with synaesthesia used to be regarded as pathological. Pathologically shy, pathologically oversensitive, a real burden on their families. Children who have it are always screaming, quick to tears, and peculiar in other ways too. When they grow up they often turn out to be borderline, complete schizophrenics, or prone to depression. Many kill themselves because they can’t cope with the world and the way they see it. Hypersensitive cry-babies. If there were any pills to treat this condition, I’d be gobbling them like Smarties.”

The Book of Dreams covers some pretty grim themes, but it does so with a sensitivity and beauty that is striking. It’s such an absorbing novel, dealing with consciousness on a whole other level. While Henri lies in a coma, Samuel is able to ‘read’ Henri, and despite their being no response that can be detected by the medical team, or even through the use of an MRI, Samuel knows that his father is still alive, that he’s in there, just waiting out of reach. While Henri is in his coma, we see his life lived out in dreams, alternate existences, and there are also times when Henri seems able to reach out to his loved ones through his, and their dreams, in a kind of alternate consciousness connection. It’s very different, and some people may not feel entirely comfortable with the themes that are played out, but I found it fascinating and inspirational. I also found it very uplifting, which may seem strange given that this is largely a novel about mortality.

“The Book of Dreams completes my cycle of novels about mortality. I needed to write about fear and transience and to portray the points where life and death meet as a sort of fairy-tale place brimming with parallel realities, a transitional zone among all worlds, heaven, and earth. None of us knows if this zone really exists or if it is born of our thoughts and hopes and fears.” – Afterword

While visiting his father at the hospital, Samuel wanders up to another floor and meets Maddie, a twelve-year-old girl who is in a vegetative state with no underlying medical cause. Something is preventing her from waking, a trauma that is so deeply seated within her. Samuel is drawn to Maddy on a number of levels and she is the first person he has encountered that he can’t read. Over time, he continues to visit her and becomes devoted to being there for her, trying to reach her so that she might break through whatever barrier is holding her captive. This is where Samuel really tugged at my heartstrings, the way in which he tried to make moments special for Maddy. It didn’t make any sense, their connection, yet it was beautiful and meaningful and showed the depths of Samuel’s character to perfection.

“I can hear her breath and then, with my soul snuggling against her heart, I hear her breath become a note. The note becomes a tune, a breeze, but it’s not like Madelyn’s piano music. This wind has been scouring the earth for a long time and is now slowly rising, growing brighter, as it continues its quest over the cool, silvery, frost-rimmed, icy coating of a long, broad, frozen river. It is changing into a warming ray of sunlight, which captures the sparkling silence and then alights on a motionless ice sculpture, inside which a heart is beating. My heart.”

This novel explores love in a very raw and jagged way. Love lost, love denied, love withheld, and love for all time. I was particularly drawn to the way in which Nina depicted the care for patients who are in a coma. It was so respectful and dignified, the nurses who work directly with these patients are marvellous. There’s a lot of information about comas woven into this novel, many things that I would never have realised. Henri’s experience was fairly tragic, and it took me a little bit to realise what was actually going on in his sections. At first, I thought we were merely getting his backstory, but then it became apparent that we were instead witnessing him living, through his dreams whilst lying in a coma, alternate existences, some in which he lives an incredible life, but others where he dies too soon. It was so bittersweet to see Henri only get to know his son through the veil of being in a coma. He’d never had the opportunity to parent Samuel, to speak to him, gaze upon him, or even touch him. He had never been able to demonstrate his love for him. That he does so from the depths of a coma is extraordinary and so very poignant.

‘Maybe this is hell. Yes, this must be hell. To live over and over again, through countless variations, repeatedly starting from scratch and committing the same mistakes and new mistakes, and then back to the start. And not to recognize any of the fresh repetitions as things that you’re experiencing for the second or fourth or thousandth time.’

And then there’s Eddie, the love of Henri’s life, if only he’d ever told her. She was terrific, especially the bond between her and Samuel, who up until this point in time, she had never known existed. But she took it in her stride, like so many things, yet never did she come across as a martyr. I adored her. Her love for Henri was something she feared, yet she gave in to it, yearning for his recovery even though it pained her to let him back into her life. The characters within this novel were all so well crafted. Marie-Force, Samuel’s mother, was a complex woman. At first, I judged her harshly for the way in which she had denied Henri and Samuel a relationship. She seemed cold and disinterested as a mother too; I was very unimpressed with her. But later on, we see another side to her, a view into her fears, a crack in her reserve that allowed us to glimpse the great love she had for Samuel. The doctors, the nurses, Samuel’s friend Scott, his brother Maxwell and his step-father Steve, even Eddie’s co-workers; not a single character was one dimensional throughout this novel, even the minor ones. Everyone was uniquely realised.

The translation of this novel is excellent. I didn’t even really think about it being a translation while reading, it was as if the author had written it in English originally. This is a thought provoking read that will stretch your imagination and tug on your heart strings. I really enjoyed it and recommend it widely, although just bear in mind that it’s a novel best suited to the open minded as it’s quite speculative about mortality and the afterlife.

“I realize at that moment that you can always decide: nothing simply happens. It’s always possible to decide whether to lie or tell the truth, whether to be an asshole or not be an asshole.”


Thanks is extended to Simon and Schuster Australia via NetGalley for providing me with a copy of The Book of Dreams for review.

*thank you to Simon & Schuster (Australia) for an ARC of this book*

4 stars.

Wow. This book can be described in one word and I know im not the first to say it, but I whole heartily agree with it and that word is beautiful!

This was written so well it was just beautiful to read. Its a story you feel, along with the characters, you feel what they say and go through. Not knowing where the next step would take you but going along with it quietly while you listen to whats being said. Sometimes smiling, sometimes feeling tearful as you get to know each main character's deep and personal thoughts and feelings and how each character is connect with the others. As I said, this is so beautiful. 

Im half and half on the ending. I did wish for it to be a bit different but thats not to say that I didnt like how it did end. It was heartfelt and realistic. It was strong, yet tender. It will tug at your heart. 

This is my first book by this author and im now very interested to read her other books too. I highly recommend this.

Nina George’s incredible new novel, The Book of Dreams, is about the dream world that exists between life and death.

13-year-old Sam sees the world in colours and can sense things most others can’t. He meets his father, Henri, for the first time in hospital. Henri is in a deep coma after being struck by a car. The accident brings him together with Eddie – publisher of fantastical fiction and his father’s former lover. The narrative is told from multiple perspectives. We spend time with Sam, Eddie and Henri as they try to make sense of their situations and bridge the gaps between life and death.

I adored this beautiful book and cried buckets at the ending, which was very satisfying but deeply moving.

The Book of Dreams is peppered with the sort of ‘What if?’s I remember thinking as a kid:

"Maybe our lives are nothing but stories that are being read by other people."

I also had a real ‘Oh god is this true? Is this what parenthood does to us?’ moment when I read this passage spoken by 13-year-old Sam:

"My mother hasn’t always been like this. There was a time when she worked as a photographer and traveled to war zones. She was afraid of nothing – of nothing and nobody. But then something happened. That thing was me, an accident, and everything changed. Now she sneaks through her own life, as if she’s constantly trying to duck out of harm’s way."

Eddie has run her own successful niche publishing house for decades. I wish she was a real person because I’d love to meet her. She publishes all the sorts of stories that I love reading most:

"I publish fantastic novels. Not fantasy: there are no elves, no orcs, no vampires. Utopias and dystopias, stories about alternate realities, other planets, one world where there are no men and another devoid of adults – anything that’s potentially only three steps from our own reality and represents a scientifically plausible form of the miraculous."

This is a story you can completely immerse yourself in. I grew very attached to Eddie and Sam and wanted to reach into the book and look after them both. I was glad they had each other. I was fond of Henri too, though mostly I wanted to give him and Sam’s mother a good shake.

Invested as I was in the narrative, I also found so many small quotes I could sit and think over for hours. Like this one:

"We are dwarfed by reality."

This last quote is for all the writers among us. I identified with Sam on this level so much – this is exactly why I write:

"I’ve just realized that I really want to be a writer. No, not “want” – must. I don’t have a choice, but only now has that become clear to me. It feels as if it’s the only way to make sense of everything – people, colors, emotions, landscapes, and rooms I can read as if they were books."