Blue sky, green trees

Fantastic read, absolutely knocked my socks off. The portion that is told from the point of view of Edith was really intense, it felt like I was holding my breath for the whole chapter. I love what the author did with the characters, the plot, the writing, every bit of it worked for me. Highly recommend.

I don't get it, nothing happens. I thought this was supposed to be about missing persons, but it's just a lot of rambling about his genealogy and Glasgow.

Abandoned this book on page 36. The writing felt forced, and Penelope felt inauthentic. There was a completely lifeless quality to the story, which makes sense given that it's told by Penelope after she's dead but makes for a bad reading experience.

If I was going to be into poetry, it would be W.H. Auden's poetry. But it turns out I'm not at all into poetry.

If I was going to be into poetry, it would be W.H. Auden's poetry. But it turns out I'm not at all into poetry.

After the prefaces and the first chapter I was ready to move on; my interest in the topic was apparently more article-length and less book-length.

It's not exactly a fun read, but it's a good reminder of war's realities nonetheless.

I gave it a go but I couldn't get into it. Lots of parts where she explains an idea or feeling by way of what other writers have said, which felt a bit like reading a term paper. Lots of trying to philosophize, which I ended up skimming until finally I was just skimming the whole thing, and what's the point of sticking with a book if you're just skimming?

This type of over-the-top sendup is fun and outrageous for a day, but by the second day of reading it's tiresome.

Unrelentingly grim. I couldn't make it through, kudos to those that do.

This book was just too much damn work! Never knowing what order in which things are happening, collecting the clues that he sprinkles like crumbs in order to follow the plot (is there actually a plot? I still can't tell), and not finding a single character to connect with - it is all just exhausting. I'm reading this for fun during my relaxation time, Mr. Wallace (RIP), and this book is neither the former nor the latter.

I made it to page 371, and now it's time for me and this book to part ways.

Die Geschichte nervt mich. Der Fremder steigt um Mitternacht das Haus ein, ohne Einladung? Wer macht das? Unsinnig. Er sieht eine Leiche, aber Moment, auch eine sexy Frau! Statt die Polizei zu rufen, will er sich mit ihr unterhalten. Unsinnig! Dann entschließt er sich mit dem Mord zu verwickeln, ein Mord zwischen Fremden, der nichts mit ihm zu tun hat:

“Ich mache mich nachträglich zum Komplizen,” antwortete er.
“Aber warum?”, fragte Laura. “Warum?”
“Wohl aus dem einfachen Grund, weil Sie eine überaus attraktive Frau sind und mir der Gedanke nicht gefällt, dass Sie die besten Jahre Ihres Lebens hinter Gittern verbringen sollen.”

Quatsch.

I just couldn't get into them. Some were familiar, and that was sweet, while others were new and therefore mildly interesting. But I never felt like reading them, even as a little something short and easy before bed. The book itself I'll keep, it's gorgeous and very high quality, and who knows when it might be needed as a reference.