Author: Paul Harding
Sometimes I can slide into language like a pond and just enjoy the way words are strung together, other times it just annoys me when the author goes off into lyrical prose. Both of these reactions came up for me in this book. The narrative is pretty loose, George is dying and hallucinating and remembering, his father is living his itinerant life, his memories, his epilepsy. Despite the meandering path, it does come together at the end with some satisfaction.
But I didn't really like it much. The strange passages took me out of the story without adding anything for me.
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