The story takes us on a voyage from England to Ireland, where the
He has had an affair with a lesbian and gotten her pregnant but he promises her to look after the child if she will not abort it, in his mot Somehow the mix of metaphysics and a sort of bildungsroman doesn't work here. Before that, he has dropped out of uni because science deals with reality and literature also deals with things-as-they-are, instead of being a form of idealism. The story takes us on a voyage from England to Ireland, where the protagonist finds an island that is supposedly magical. Somehow the mix of metaphysics and a sort of bildungsroman doesn't work here. It drags on pages and pages to get anywhere while everything is lifelessly explained ad nauseum.more It's like going to an art museum and seeing only the blue paint in the paintings, no matter how fascinating and exciting the different shades of blue are there is so much more to see.Īnd pacing? Well there isn't any. The book is written in first person which is fine except the description of relationships between people and events which happen are all filtered through this lens of an over riding idea that the book is about. The characters are paperboard thin and and uninteresting and boring. It's like going to an art museum and seeing only the blue paint in the paintings, no matter how fascinating and exciting the different shades I liked the idea of a book about ideas but this book I found to be a trudge. I liked the idea of a book about ideas but this book I found to be a trudge. I look forward to finding out what of this is peculiar to this novel and what else is within Mosley’s métier.more He settles for neither the delusional omnipotence of the classical hero who makes his way and discovers who he IS, nor for the specious, fatalistic quiescence of pawn-of-chance bullshit. Thankfully, Mosley does not elide the complexity involved in situating ourselves somewhere within the whirling before and after of what happens and what we think. The novel’s humdrum plot-upon which too much print is wasted-is a sort of necessary disguise for an aphoristic ensemble of genuinely intriguing thoughts on chance, fate, myth, and ultimately subjective agency. He is not too improbable a pretext upon whom to build a Bildungsroman, especially one less dedicated to the protagonist’s fledgling efforts to “find himself” (ugh) than to the ideas/concepts/tropes we use to create meaningful parameters/periods/moments in our lives. Although our narrator is a twenty-something in search of a soul, the aging Mosley abstains from any lachrymose nostalgia, instead allowing the kid to be too clever by half, whether due to his precociousness or Mosley’s ventriloquism matters little. I intend to read others despite the underwhelming experience with this one, primarily because it did not begin underwhelmingly: a cursory glance suffices to demonstrate Mosley’s perspicacity and a bittersweet jadedness and detachment I find sympathetic. Although our narrator is a twenty-something in search of a soul, the aging Mosley abstains f Mosley lived almost forever and published twenty novels it happens that this one, written as he pushed toward 80 years old, will be the first I’ve read. Mosley lived almost forever and published twenty novels it happens that this one, written as he pushed toward 80 years old, will be the first I’ve read.
0 kommentar(er)
