Since I’m nowhere near finishing the McElroy (I’m still struggling…it’s not good), I broke down and threw some shorter reads into the mix. So much shorter that I blipped through nearly a book a day last week. Here, the results:
Marjorie Dorner, Winter Roads, Summer Fields (2000)
Generational study of a fictional Minnesota farming community, told in a series of short stories spanning the twentieth century. The problem is, the first narrator is also the best, but then we barely hear from her for the rest of the book.
Pamela Aidan, These Three Remain (2005)
Published Mr. Darcy fanfiction. No other description warranted.
Gustaf Sobin, The Fly-Truffler (1999)
He’s a boring old professor in France, he falls in love with one of his students, she loses their baby and dies. He flops around his Provence farm seeking out truffles because they make him encounter his dead wife in dreams. …Yeah. Actually, although 70% of the book is preposterous, the back end, where his farm is literally bulldozed around him on the cusp of his last dream, is pretty cool. Did I spoil it? You weren’t going to read it anyway, right?
Jean Rhys, After Leaving Mr. McKenzie (1931)
Jean Rhys could do no wrong. Go read this, along with everything else she ever wrote. Burn the collected works of Ford Madox Ford.
James Hamilton-Paterson, Cooking with Fernet Branca (2004)
It’s exactly like reading a novel by David Brooks, and that’s not a compliment.
Lee Rourke, The Canal (2010)
How is it that disaffected young people in novels can just quit their jobs, sit around all day, and not worry about the rent? I demand verisimilitude! Oh, and his love interest is a murderer who dies.