I finished The Living, finally. And you know what? I went from hating it to sort of loving it. The plot finally emerged, I got involved with it, I warmed up to the quirks and pacing of the book and started to relish the gorgeous writing. You could read it as a multigenerational family saga, a philosophical meditation on mortality, or a piece of lyrical nature writing, but to me it was mostly one hell of a pioneer narrative. I’m keeping it, and I’m giving it four stars.
Next I returned to Roald Dahl, zipping through the enjoyable and creepy stories of Someone Like You. I’ve decided every Roald Dahl story is about someone trying to trick someone else, which is repetitive but always entertaining. Coming up: some of the enormous Complete Sherlock Holmes tome, then some action-packed Hammett to keep me occupied through my two plane journeys.
