by Jeffery Eugenides
Loving this one so far. Day 1.5 and 132 pages in.
Sentences like this: "Since coming east to college, Mitchell had been trying to wash the Midwest off of himself. Sitting around Larry's room, drinking the muddy espresso Larry made and hearing him talk about "the theater of the absurd," seemed like a good way to start."
...and this one is a minor bit - some of the power-packed punches are delightful to read, as if swirling a refined red about on the tongue. So far, a very nice read for me that I am having trouble putting down.
Now finished with the novel, I have to admit I was engrossed because it seemed like a story I would have written although the ending was lacking a sentence to two to make it seem more real. Also, I have to add, often times a male author can not adequately capture thoughts and feelings that a woman would have but Eugenides handled this taks with confident ease. Although a beach book but of higher class, I still enjoyed the reading.
...yikes, as the sediment of this book sinks lower I am struck by many different ideas. The main characters and their intertwining plot lines, or lack thereof, the availability of a religious experience for an american man in India or anywhere for that matter, the choices a woman has to decide between at all stages of her life - marriage, work, self, children. Ugh. What I really wish to do is devote myself to the religious experience of reading and writing but, alas, I can not at this point due to, you guessed it, marriage, work, self, children. Ugh.