a gesture life

It was not- by any stretch- a bad book. But it was only as good as a book about a detached older man can be.

No, I take that back. If anyone has seen (or read) Steve Martin's Shopgirl, then clearly that's not an accurate statement.

Let me start again. It was a story with strong character development but was of a character practically devoid of emotion. And while I appreciate how well the author explained how this mancane to be as he was- orphaned in a sense and through horrible war-related attrocities (what else can war bring with it?)- I cannot say I related to the main character, the protagonist, the hero.

Perhaps if I read this book at a later stage in my life I will better appreciate the pensive near-death feverless acceptance of life, but now it leaves me a little bit annoyed with the character and wanting him to pull his head out of his arse. Did I mention that it reminded me very much of the style of the Japanese writing of the English butler- what was that called? Stiff and cold- but well written and smooth reading.

It seems it has been a while since I read anything that absorbed me- not my mind but - what I can only refer to as- my soul. Perhaps it will take the discovery of a new favorite author- a new sea of tropical waters to explore. Perhaps it will take a reresding of one of Coetzee's or Oondatje's bests. Double vowels seem to be the thing to keep an eye out for- something with an aa or and ii or strangely a uu. Suggestions- as always- are welcome.