Roger Rosenblatt wrote Making Toast, one of the
best books about grief I have ever read.
Since then I have tried to read other things he has written, and have
been disappointed every time. This book
was also a disappointment to me.
I enjoyed the descriptive parts about New York City
and the references to fictional and real characters who lived in different
parts of the city. However, there was a
lot of drifting and exploring of tangents that I did not enjoy or understand,
or see that they connected to any theme.
The jacket blurb says this “treads the line between
a novel and a poem”, but I think he should have tried one or the other, and not
both. On the other hand, maybe the fault
was with the reader.
No comments:
Post a Comment