Read as extended poetry, the book is very good. The author's use of metaphor and apposite description are well worth a read. In fact, those who tend to read quickly will need to consciously slow down, because the beauty of the book is in very subtle use of language.
Read as a novel, it's not much fun. The protagonist is maddeningly oblique, much better at describing the world around him than himself or his motivations. Very little happens, and what does happens is rarely explained or fully realized. As a poetic choice, it's perfectly legitimate for characters to make terrible, irrevocable decisions with no lead-in, no explanation, and no discussion; as a novelistic choice, it's too avant-garde for me.
Overall, I'm glad I read it. The wordplay is memorable. Excerpts:
"Somewhere behind us, the monks were pressing an ear against God's door, leaving little notes."
"Everything in the universe sang with vivid meaning, exclusively and irreproachably itself. The Gulf gently patted the sand, reassuring it, sad little scared earth, baby brother, sleep well."
"As she played now, bending to the keys as if with a sudden inclination to kiss them, or to kiss the hands of her partner, I caught the glint in her eyes, maybe it was the light, and saw what she was up to, midnight ruminator, stylish thought artist trailing a happiness as it ran away from her across the keys."
If you like that sort of thing, you'll like this book.
Read as a novel, it's not much fun. The protagonist is maddeningly oblique, much better at describing the world around him than himself or his motivations. Very little happens, and what does happens is rarely explained or fully realized. As a poetic choice, it's perfectly legitimate for characters to make terrible, irrevocable decisions with no lead-in, no explanation, and no discussion; as a novelistic choice, it's too avant-garde for me.
Overall, I'm glad I read it. The wordplay is memorable. Excerpts:
"Somewhere behind us, the monks were pressing an ear against God's door, leaving little notes."
"Everything in the universe sang with vivid meaning, exclusively and irreproachably itself. The Gulf gently patted the sand, reassuring it, sad little scared earth, baby brother, sleep well."
"As she played now, bending to the keys as if with a sudden inclination to kiss them, or to kiss the hands of her partner, I caught the glint in her eyes, maybe it was the light, and saw what she was up to, midnight ruminator, stylish thought artist trailing a happiness as it ran away from her across the keys."
If you like that sort of thing, you'll like this book.
