I’d been doing so well, and then I seemed to have checked out a batch of duds. It’s been two weeks since I checked out these books, and I still haven’t read a single one.
I tried to read Poison (Galt Niederhoffer); I understand that it is about a perfect family that descends due to suspicion, perhaps founded, but the description of the perfect family (including the wife’s body) was so cliche for so long that I
- had to check if the author was male
- didn’t have the stomach to wait for the subversion of the norms
The book I started reading on the light rail platform from Beacon Hill Station was Hotels of North America (Rick Moody). I am almost done with it and am determined to finish it, but the author uses SO MUCH anaphora that for each repetitive rant, I just read the beginning and skip to the end of the paragraph. The author went to Brown.
[now having finished the book] It had a nice ending. Phil found some of the things buried in the anaphora hilarious; I suppose this book just didn’t suit me (though I am also a reviewer of hotels of north america, I guess).