Three quick morning reads for us: an appreciation of Hanya Yanigihara’s A Little Life which, though it takes no notice of the problems many readers have with the novel, is warm enough, perhaps, to persuade those of you still on the fence about reading it.
Finalists for the National Book Critics’ Circle prize have been announced, if you’re in to that sort of thing, and I am, as long as the said prize tries to reward genuine literary excellence rather than follow the social twittering of the moment. By and large, this year’s nominees are all deserving. I still don’t know if Fates and Furies is worth my time, but I’m certain that H Is For Hawk will be, if I can ever get to it. It’s easy enough to skirt past the annoying hoopla (almost as bad as the Golden Globes or the Oscars) if you care about a few of the books up for the given award.
A blog asks, “Is Joyce’s Ulysses the hardest book to finish?” Not for me. Finnegans Wake, another of Joyce’s books, was much harder to get through. Joyce’s linguistic erudition is on display in every word, every line in that book, and while that erudition is admirable, even Joyce’s most ardent readers have to say while they’re reading it, “Ok, we get it. You’re a genius. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”