Four women work together in a genocide information centre in Copenhagen. One day, two of them receive emailed death threats. At first, they assume the threats are from one of the mass murderers they've written about, but then booby traps appear in the office, and they start to mistrust each other. As the relationships between them deteriorate, things get worse and worse...

In a nutshell, the novel argues that all of us have deep-rooted fears and concerns, which if played upon can lead us to irrational behaviour - and when taken to extremes, this is what leads to genocide. It's an interesting idea, but I have two problems with it:

- first, the execution. The book's focused on its didactic intent, and everything is just so implausible - from the main story development to the little details (if you thought you were being victimised by work colleagues, would you really start reading about the psychopathology of evil?). Also, the writing (or the translation) is very clunky, and the characters are pretty annoying.

- secondly, I don't really buy the proposition that, say, reacting irrationally if you think your more attractive friend is interested in the same guy you are is *really* on the same spectrum as clubbing your neighbours to death. Or if it is, it's so far the other end of the spectrum as makes no difference.

So, an interesting rather than enjoyable read for me.

Recommended for: someone who is interested in ideas about the nature of evil. ( )

I liked this book, it is the story of a work enviroment, and the interpersonal issues that come in work. but also a real study of evil the ending is great because you dont know, at least I didnt know you did it ( )

Too Long ( )

Excellent, very memorable novel. See the plot summaries, etc., written by the reviewers on Amazon.

What matters in this book is the extremely unusual mixture of fiction and nonfiction. The researchers in the book write reports on evil, genocide, and other subjects, and we read them embedded in the novel. The facts in those reports are all real, and I learned, for example, about theories of evil in the Third Reich beginning with Arendt and continuing to the present.

But then between the reports, the fictional authors continue to do evil to one another. It's a very effective device.

When I met Jungersen in Copenhagen, he said he wrote intuitively, and he had little to add. I don't believe artists who claim they are intuitive: it's an easy out when it comes to public relations. I hope he changes his attitude to his own work.

The book ends weakly, with a chapter ripped from (or written for) a Hollywood screenplay. ( )

I had just finished reading Jakov Lind's "Landscape in Concrete," a 1963 novella about a Nazi soldier and accidental criminal, when I came across a review for Christian Jungersen's "The Exception." A 2004 European bestseller, "The Exception" has been translated from Danish by Anna Paterson and, like Lind's book, deals with questions regarding human behavior during wartime. Unfortunately, not only were the characters insufferable, the novel as a whole is ultimately pointless - kind of like a misanthrope's big rant on Why People Suck - but I did enjoy (morbidly) the embedded articles on genocide and psychology. But everything else . . . meh.

"The Exception" centers on four women - Iben, Malene, Ann-Lise, and Camilla - who work for the Danish Center for Information on Genocide, a small non-profit in Copenhagen, headed by a man named Paul, that disseminates information on genocide for governments and researchers. Malene is suffering from early-onset rheumatoid arthritis and Iben is her longtime best friend (they are in their late twenties). Camilla is a middle-aged woman who works closely with Iben and Malene, while Ann-Lise (Camilla's age) is relegated to the back room, where she feels left out and ignored by her three coworkers. Things are going smoothly, despite some tension with Ann-Lise, until one day, out of the blue, Iben and Malene receive threatening emails from an anonymizer server that makes tracking the sender impossible. Now, as professionals who write about and raise awareness of war crimes for a living, you would think that these two would be no strangers to anonymous death threats. But no, Iben has a big freak-out and the whole thing catalyzes a period of bullying and intimidation among the four women of the DCIG.

Basically, it's supposed to be microcosm of the group dynamics that lead perfectly ordinary people to commit horrendous atrocities, such as the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, and the Stanford Prison Experiment catastrophe. So, in other words, the characters are not meant to be particularly likeable. But did they really have to be so incredibly *annoying*? The four DCIG employees start out as these liberal progressive tolerant self-righteous Social Democrat types who then descend into childish playground tormentors. They even resort to breaking into someone's house at night to access her computer. One gets mad at another just for looking at her and not sitting with her at lunch. Practical "jokes" are played. Ergo: "Mean Girls" = "Apocalypse Now."

You know, sometimes when you read a book, you find yourself just wanting to leap into the story and start slapping some sense into everyone. Anything to get these infuriating basket cases to starting acting like responsible adult human beings again! Of course, presiding distantly and benevolently over the four hysterical females is Paul, the level-headed man, which gives "The Exception" some sadly sexist overtones. I mean, other than that one war criminal and his goons, all the male characters in this book come across as pretty normal when compared to the DCIG drama queens. Probably the best part is when Iben starts researching split personality disorder and goes to Paul to inform him that Ann-Lise *doubtlessly* has this highly rare condition. Wow, srsly? Does Jungersen honestly expect us to believe that we are all potentially this neurotic, petty, immature, and self-destructive? But lo! there is hope. You can still be the Exception, that lone individual who rises up above the collective juggernaut and acts selflessly in defense of your fellow man, whatever the personal risk. Maybe, that is. Possibly. Uh, actually we're not quite sure. You know what? Humanity might just be doomed after all.

And yeah, that's pretty much the moral of the story. Again I ask, what's the point? ( )