There is nothing wrong with reading a best-seller every now and again. In
particular one that has won the Pulitzer Prize. In particular one that was
bought for 2 cheeky pounds.
However, there are plenty of things that I think are wrong with this
particular book: it’s long; Donna Tartt spends the first 400 pages of it
essentially trying to persuade the reader of how good-natured the main
character is before making his dramatic entry into the criminal underworld (and
the fact that it essentially jumps from Theo’s return from Vegas straight into
his shady dealings makes you wonder what he has actually done in the meantime –
it’s not quite like what’s happened to Jesus between the age of 12 and 30, but
almost…), and most of all the ending, with its banal comments about life, its
meaning, and its shortness, is so trite that I actually really struggled to
read that final chapter.
On the plus side, though, the art comments are really interesting, but
probably that’s because I’m Italian and, never having had much time for Dutch
and Flemish art, most of those were actually new to me…
Still, I have to recognize that this is a book that has to be read. And,
at least in my case, one that should be pretty much forgotten once it’s over.
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