Magnus

Seneca almost achieves class consciousness, a note I find interesting. In other issues, he is a man of extremes who lands upon good points in spite of his extremities.

An emotional read that leans sometimes into a bit too confusion. However, it was a work of great setting and atmosphere. A must-read.

Mary Lavin looked at the world in a way I can only admire. I long to be someday such a good writer, or even in the circle of one. She saw the heart of men and women and children in a world that failed to, again and again.

I must be honest: I did not finish this book. I got a fair ways in, but unless there's some twist I missed I dare say that this will go for the rest of it. It is a painful read. It is a useless diatribe from his mind, for reasons unclear even to me. Nothing he wrote down could have any benefit to himself, nor to any of us, so what on EARTH was the point? It's shit.