3 Fun Things, 15 Not-So-Much
I did something that I haven't done in a while and that I hate doing: I gave up on a book. Now that I'm a big kid, I allow myself to do that, but I don't like to. I was so looking forward to reading Fifteen Dogs , but alas 90 pages were enough. It started out great. As a classicist, I loved the premise of the intervention of Hermes and Apollo. I enjoyed the dogs' perspective of co-resident cats (p. 65). My heart strings were yanked taut about animal neglect, pain and death (p.18–19). I had enjoyed listening to interviews on CBC radio with the author. But my god, was I bored otherwise! I can't offer much of a critique, because I'm not even sure where it fell flat for me, but blech . What I did like—love—was Fiona Barton's The Widow. Wa-hooo, what a ride! [At this point, I hope you aren't drawing the conclusion that I just don't understand literature and only like commercial page-turners. That ain't the point.] Actually, this book had it...