A good mix of science, archeology, personal conflict and adventure. ( )

This book is like a *really* bad Dan Brown novel. Not that Brown is all that great, but if his premise is improbable at least it's still intelligible and has some kind of internal cohesiveness. Brondurant's narrator is a weak loser and his plot is utimately incomprehensible. After all the breakneck action, we are still left wondering why everyone was so interested in this infernal Egyptian inscription. About the best thing I can say about this book is that it provides a colorful introduction to London's seedier nightlife. ( )

You would think a novel about Egyptology and the deciphering of ancient hieroglyphics, set in London and presented as somewhat of a thriller, would be an interesting & intriguing read. I thought that too -- until I actually read the book. But I have to say this one was a big disappointment. The plot, which initially seemed like it was going somewhere, ended up going nowhere, and the ending brought about absolutely no resolution. Not only that, but I found the plot confusing. Often times I would read something & feel as though it came out of nowhere -- that I missed an important portion of the story that would better explain what I was reading. But then at other times the opposite was true: there were details that seemed really very irrelevant to the story and I wondered why they were included. I would like to blame this on the abridgement of the audio that I listened to, although I can't say for sure whether it was a bad abridgement or just poor writing. I dislike giving bad reviews, but this was really an overall forgetful piece of fiction. ( )

Can I say enough in praise of dung beetles? One must dig through interminable prosaic prose until one gets to the nugget in this turgid evil cultist genre novel. The most entertaining germ I found in this pile of words is the revelations about the opportunistic habits of dung beetles. Otherwise, "The Third Translation" has lost me in translation from curious investigator of Egyptology to bored reader of ancient Egyptian esoterica.

The hero is so colorless as to be invisible; he's indistinguishable from his similarly pale colleagues. He encounters a cult (finally!) that seems more like a troupe of performers belonging to a Ringling Bros. Circus gone wrong than remotely realistic human beings with twisted, much less sinister, ambitions. Instead, they are unintentionally laughable. It is this interaction that provides any action that exists in the novel.

All the pedantic information about Egyptian gods and academic tidbits on hieroglyphic translation are meant to lend the novel authenticity, but they do little to contribute to the essence of story, which is telling what happens with a purpose.

What's at stake in this novel is thin and unsatisfactory because as the hero admits and we all realize, he could simply retire, jail being unlikely as the theft of the papyrus is too embarrassing for the British Museum to prosecute.

In fact, one wishes he would have -- around page 150. ( )

This has got to be the ABSOLUTELY worst book I have EVER READ. BAR NONE. No point, no direction, undefined characters, unrecognizable time line. Non existent story.

No redeeming quality. DO NOT BUY, BROW OR WASTE YOUR TIME READING THIS. I wish then had a minus rating. I would give it a minus 100! Stay away from this author. Sorry, but you would serve mankind better by making bricks instead of books. ( )