the one with buzz.

The tag line for this novel is "imagine Ingmar Bergman crossed with Silence of the Lambs."  How did I miss reading that little quip?  Completely dead on description that might have kept me away.

I finished Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in less than four days on a transatlantic flight to Dublin.  There is financial intrigue and family saga and stuff that I really don't want to write about.  My good friend the school librarian disliked this book for its treatment of women.  And yet, everyone and their brother is reading Stief Larsson's book this summer and loving it. 

This was the perfect book to read when experiencing jet lag.  It kept me engaged and I raced through the pages.  I'm half tempted to read the next two in the series.  But, I have to say, that I was icked out and sometimes bored.  Without being too critical, this is just not my type of book.  But who am I to say?

that one.

oh 2666.  I have so many feelings about your pages.

Guilt - I am madly jealous of Kate for finishing this nasty book.  She is a more dedicated reader than I.

Confusion - I honestly feel like author Roberto Bolano was self-medicating as he wrote this novel.  Or else, we are talking some serious dementia.  Not sure.

Very slight admiration - for the most beautiful cover ever.  Not the pages inside.

A bit of disgust - the random hook-ups, cemetery stalking and beat downs were just weird.

I considered leaving this book on a random bench somewhere but, you know, I did finish a good 300 of the 900 pages.  Better than most in our book club.  After much reflection, I'm counting this as a book read.  I will refrain from throwing it against the wall and maybe use it for a good doorstop someday.

Moving on . . .

Pardon my absence as I read another 900 page saga on Ireland in preparation for Ireland (Trinity by Leon Uris).  Cross your fingers.

the one that made me feel dumb.

It's that time of year again folks.  Time to read the Pulitzer Prize winner and add another literary masterpiece to the collection.  There have been lovelies (March and Olive Kitteridge) and real downers (The Road).  Tinkers by Paul Harding was a darling surprise and critics love, love, love.

I just felt dumb reading it.  The novel is told from the perspective of George, as he lays dying, during the last 8 days of his life, hallucinating, and reflecting on his life.  This book is more painting than plot.  If you are one for scenery of the north woods and wordiness about clocks then this is the book for you.  The beginning was poetic and even humorous.  Matt and I read it aloud and fell for the sweet nature of George.  Then, when George started to fall away from life and into memory, I felt a little lost. 

I'd love to know what others think of this book.  A potential gem.  I think I just fell prey to the same loss of consciousness that poor George experiences in this book.  Definitely not a beach read.