3.75. I got this novella on a whim at a used bookstore, because it’s written by the same author who I’m already reading for one of my book groups.
This was a book of a traveller’s ramblings. Other reviewers have complained that nothing really happens in this book, and they are right. They are right, *but* this guy can write, and so his ramblings are really fun to read. It reminded me a little bit of Ben Lerner (which is high praise, in my book). He’s witty and analytical and has ongoing debates in his mind over obscure things—and all of this is so well-written that it’s fun to read.
So there’s no big plot to this book, but it turns out there can be other reasons to enjoy a book. I appreciated this hodge-podge of memories and thoughts.
Favorite quotes:
…if my grandchildren or great-grandchildren…ask one day why I didn’t have a laptop with me, I will say here, for the sake of clarity, that once there was a time when even prosperous people didn’t have laptops, there was even a time *before* the laptop and *before* the cell phone, and although I write exclusively on a laptop now… that time was *my time*, and I am afraid I shall belong to it all my life, the way others identify themselves with a nation or a family. p48
I was disturbed by the behavior of the young woman who served me that day… if you can call banging plates down without a word serving anyone. p49
Then I lie in the hammock again; I have put my thermal mat in it to protect myself from the chilly wind, but there is no protection from the thoughts going through my head. p54
But then, the next morning, I am sitting on my bench again, the first glimmer of sunlight shows above the black mountains, shines more brightly, spreads, sends its life-giving heat out into the world, and in view of that sun, skeptical as I am, it seems to me entirely absurd, positively deranged, to doubt the existence of God. p55
I had immediately assumed he was American because of his crass behavior…p56
After a few seconds the little creature writhed once, briefly, as if it were trying to turn over—and died. And then what? Then nothing. It died. p107