3 Following


Currently reading

The Fixer
Bernard Malamud, Jonathan Safran Foer
The Wayward Bus
John Steinbeck

The Book of Salt. A Novel

The Book of Salt - Monique Truong this is a hard one for me to rate. for some reason i had *extremely* low expectations going in, and i'm sure that affected my reading of this book for at least the first 75 pages or so. i did think that this was not easy to get into, to care at all about, and i really had to work on focusing on actually reading the words. i haven't been this distracted while reading in a long while. at the beginning. once i got past my main issues with the book (the language and the story) i ended up quite liking it.but the main issues: the language is so incredibly overblown. it's beautiful, don't get me wrong, but so incongruous to the subject. it ends up making no sense that she's writing the way she does about what she's writing about. which makes it hard to read if you're paying attention to both the language and what she's talking about. if you just want to read for the writing or because words can sound pretty on a page, then this is a great book for you to just pick up and open anywhere to appreciate a page or two at a time. and then the story, if you can even call it that. this isn't a book about anything in particular. i actually don't necessarily need lots of things to happen in a book to like it, but i'd like to be able to pinpoint that it was about something.so i both liked and didn't like this book. the setting isn't something i know anything about (or am much interested in) but did, in the end, find myself enjoying the book for its language. i just wish it had a story worthy of it.the passages below are examples of the overblown language that at first really annoyed me because they just didn't fit in at all, but that, by the end, i really enjoyed:"I see there on my fingertips a landscape that would become as familiar to me as the way home.""If I had your voice, I would never be so terse. I would never stop talking. Why would I if I had a voice like warm fire, not at the crackling and popping early stages but at the moment when all becomes quiet and the embers glow, when heat appears to melt the wood? If I had your voice, I would call out your name from the street, let it pound like a heartbeat at your door, offer it to you as a song. I would never cease."