So far, I like "The Goldfinch" in an old-fashioned, hero's journey kind of way(Can't call it a picaresque cause there's so little sexuality in it, and it's also a big paperback at over 900 pages.) I like it fine, but it doesn't make me want to wet myself, even intellectually.
Every review it ever got was a love note, though. Why? I mean, maybe it's got some kind of great ending that knits together disparate plot threads as handily as the antique-dealer character pieces together reproductions as the real thing, though in my experience, it's more likely that a bad ending messes up something I really loved than a good ending redeems anything.(Except for "My Best Friend's Wedding")
I'll have to see. I kind of hope it does, because otherwise? I'm kind of left with "New York elites, blah blah, prep school blah" and feeling insecure about my land-grant education in the American Southwest, which was kind of an old story when "The Secret History" was my read of choice on the plane to my biggest ADAPT direct action.
(Of course, if any of us knew what makes a book The Next Big Thing, we'd be having the conversation in nicer home offices, right?)
No comments:
Post a Comment