Non-fiction. This is another work that I read because it was mentioned in The End of Your Life Book Club. I am not quite sure why, but for some reason or other I was under the impression that this was a work of fiction until about halfway through it. I believe this work would be a good read for those who are mourning themselves, or who are interested in the topic of mourning in contemporary American society.
I found her writing annoying at times. She has these bizarre digressions in parentheses in the middle of sentences, and they are rather awkward and long to boot. Eventually I learned to skip over them, to finish reading the actual sentence components, and then I would go back to read the information she put in the parentheses. It would have flowed so much better if she simply put her odd digressions at the end of her sentences. Although the book was interesting, it will fade from my mind fairly quickly and I have no real desire to read much else by the author. Reviews hailed her brilliance repeatedly, but when I looked up other works by her they seem to be either spin-offs of this work (another one grieving her daughter's death which is dealt with in this one), or they are about the swinging sixties in California. I personally do not have any major motivation right now to read any of those topics, so I am moving on. If I get really, really, really, desperate I may one day look up one of those other works that do not have to do with the death of her family, but I do not see that happening anytime in the near future.
And so it goes...
No comments:
Post a Comment