Friday, March 22, 2013

We do not talk - we bludgeon one another with facts and theories gleaned from cursory readings of newspapers, magazines and digests.



The darling buds of March. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. March 2013.

The Sirens of Titan, Kurt Vonnegut: I like Vonnegut very much, but must admit that I found this one a bit of a chore. It has an impressively woven sprawl, but I dunno, seemed a little to contrived for my tastes. C-.

I Am The Clay, Chaim Potok: An American Rabbi explores the Korean War through the eyes of an old couple and a young orphan. You wouldn't think that it would work, but I thought that it was first rate. I thought that you'd struggle to find a bleaker work than The Road, but this hits you harder because the journey is so depressingly plausible. Not for the faint-hearted. A-.

Mrs. Hollingsworth's Men, Padgett Powell: Okay, I hated this book. Really hated it. Call it surreal. Call it post-modern. Call it meta. Whatever. I call it self-indulgent rubbish. F.

No comments: