My quest to plow through as many of these 26 hardcover books before the end of the year continues apace. I finished the first one in short order and then I moved on to The Goldfinch. Huge, three years old, and either loved or hated. I am totally ambivalent about it which is why I’m stopping after a hundred pages. I found parts of it enjoyable, and I can understand why some people love it. I was starting to tire of it, but then the bomb exploded and I thought, wait a minute, I didn’t see that coming. Unfortunately, I found the immediate post-bomb sections a little tedious and frustrating, and then I found Theo’s move to Park Avenue a little lazy and it began to remind me of the intellectual laziness of A Little Life. But only a little, a whiff, if you will.
A worthy book perhaps, but not for me. So it goes into the donate pile with 600-odd pages unread.
Meanwhile, I realized I had another newish, biggish, hardcover that I failed to put into my pile. Benjamin Markovitz’s You Don’t Have to Live Like This.