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Wounded Child Prostitute
I like some people so much, their whole way, and being, that I can't say a word for fear of wrecking it. So if you see me standing across the room, not looking, I'm probably in love with you. Damaged, benzo surfer...
Currently reading
Why We Love Sociopaths: A Guide To Late Capitalist Television
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
The Enormous Room
Uses for Boys
Elizabeth Bathory: A Memoire: As Told by Her Court Master, Benedict Deseo
The Price of Inequality: How Today's Divided Society Endangers Our Future
Family of Women
I almost stopped reading half way through. It isn't that awful a book, and I did enjoy Rob's voice for the most part, but after a while his existential mooning was tedious. The mystery/plot was fairly straight-forward - I have to say that the 'unresolved' aspect of the ending didn't bother me as it did some; I felt that Rob's 'blanking out' of what may have happened in the woods was the thread of mystery carrying the whole thing, and by ending it as she did, the author painted the sky over the woods with a kind of longing - the smiling, sunshiny fun of those kids hopping the wall, something that is as warm as toast in the subconscious of us all. If you didn't get that, then maybe you missed it in childhood too. It's golden, why destroy it by painting awful details for the sake of closure?? The last pages raised a level of melancholy in me that is on par with any great writing I've come across (if you like your melon collie). I'd gladly read another by Tana French - she's an excellent writer, but I'll wait a while.
