By Max Porter
Genre Novella/Essay
Rating ⭐⭐
Synopsis
(I'm going to let Goodreads have this one) In this extraordinary debut - part novella, part polyphonic fable, part essay on grief, Max Porter's compassion and bravura style combine to dazzling effect. Full of unexpected humour and profound emotional truth.
First Sentence
There's a feather on my pillow.
Oi! I'm reading several of these books as part of the Tournament of Books that the Morning News puts on each year. I'm a newbie and know literally nothing more than there's a list of books and it's kinda like March Madness as one by one they get voted off until there's a winner....I think. Something like that any way. My friend Jessica loves to read all the books nominated and follow the fun. This year I decided to join. I'm not attempting all the books but I'm trying several.
This one was almost like a verse novella/poetry. I'm not a big fan of poetry. I hate symbolism. I like when people say what they mean. Straight forward and clear as day....sometimes. I do like the occasional nuanced symbolism but not when it's this confusing.
And this one was so confusing. At the end of it, and it's not long, you get the general picture. There's a father and his two boys dealing with the loss of the mother. While it had some tiny bits of wisdom, I found it mostly confusing gibberish.
I guess I just don't like books that make you feel stupid in a (I'm going to purposely make this illegible and then mock you if you don't understand it) way.
I didn't find it clever and profound. I'm not going to stand in the crowd watching the Emperor stride naked down the street and exclaim with wonder that his nonexistent clothes are beautiful so I don't look stupid.
Should you read it
I see no reason why you can't go happily about your life having never read this one.
