"Some People Believe That Freedom Is Every Person's Right, But I Have Had To Fight For Mine. And It's Been a Long And Difficult Battle"

I admit to being an incredibly impulsive buyer of books. I still love going to bookstores. I do buy some books online, since some of the ones on my list are a bit difficult to find, but there's something about strolling around the tables and bookcases of books and being able to look at the covers, read the back and/or jacket, and flip through the actual book that I don't think is easily replaced by just looking at something online. Plus I'm impatient. I want to walk out of a store with a book in hand and getting it going as soon as I get home.

So I think it's physically impossible for me to leave a store with less than 3 books. So I've done some impulse buying and have a big ol' stack to get through. And most of them are not ones from my lists. So I took a quick break from the lists to read Sleep Tight by Rachel Abbott.

The book was actually on a list I pinned on Pinterest of 2014 must read books. And I literally read it in a week. I'm such a sucker for whodoneit books, especially when they're from the perspective of the detectives/investigators (I swear I have reconsidered career paths to change to be a detective. But that doesn't work without the whole actually becoming a police officer, which is definitely not for me). The book is about the disappearance of Olivia Brookes and her 3 children. There is an initial chapter about an incident 2 years prior to her disappearance where her husband, Robert, disappeared with the children only to be found at their normal family vacation spot, with Robert telling the police that he had told her where he was going and claiming that she forgot. So right off the bat, there is clearly something not going well with their marriage, but initially it's hard to tell who is the troubled one, the husband or wife. So 2 years later, now it's Robert who is the one dealing with his spouse's and his children's disappearance.

The book was a fine, quick read. It felt very similar to Gone Girl, with different chapters/sections of the book being written from the perspective of the husband and the wife, but in this case, additional chapters from the police and even the wife's friend. And even the storyline of the disappearing wife, suspected husband, and layers of marital discord weaved in was sooo very similar; I actually had to go back to my Pinterest list to see if it was a list of "If You Like Gone Girl, You Like These Books". It also reminded me of books I've read by Tana French, but with less psychological depth to the characters. Overall, a satisfying summer mystery book. I would consider going back to Rachel Abbott if I was looking for another similar whodoneit.

Next up in Ironweed by William Kennedy. I have absolutely no idea what this book is about other than the 4 sentence summary on the back of the book. I'd like to say that because it's a short-ish looking book that I'll be able to get through it quickly, but Lord knows that I've been deceived a lot, especially recently (I'm looking at you Gertrude Stein). But I'm looking forward to continued lazy weekend afternoons, lounging in the summer sun, absorbed in some good reads. It's been pretty damn perfect for it so far!

"When She Fell In Love It Was With A Perfect Fury Of Accumulated Dishonesty; She Became Instantly A Dealer In Second-Hand And Therefore Incalculable Emotions"

Hmmmm....so where to begin with Nightwood. I think that general overall puzzlement on where to even begin mirrors my overall puzzlement with the book itself.

I'll tell you what I was able to discern:

• The story revolves around those who have "loved" a certain Robin Vote: her faux baron husband Felix, the very much in love but maniacally possessive Nora Frost, and the wickedly selfish Jenny Petherbridge. All of these characters are beyond obsessed with this woman, although, it's interesting that the reader doesn't really get a fair picture of why. None of the novel is told from Robin's point of view, so she is a bit of an enigma. The reader doesn't really get a chance to know her, other than the other characters' perceptions of her. And their perceptions of her are that she seems to want something but not want something. She doesn't want to belong to anyone but she doesn't want to be forgotten. She is aloof and easily loses interest. 
• There is also one heck of a whack-a-doo, colorful, cross-dressing, intelligentsia, possibly transgender, often infuriating character, Dr. Matthew O'Connor, through which a large portion of the novel is told. Which is a bit misleading, because the good doctor doesn't actually narrate or describe the plot, but does a whooooole lot of pontificating. We're talking 40+ pages of monologues directed to one character. Which drove me a little bonkers (more on that in a moment).
• Apparently the book ends with Robin crawling around on the floor of a chapel, play-fighting with Nora's dog. Okie dokie smokey.
• In terms of LGBT themes, this book is clearly very far ahead of its time. While there is certainly a lot of text devoted to addressing why Robin is the way she is (and allusions to what and why the doctor is as well), and discussions about gender identity, the lesbian relationships between Robin and Nora and Robin and Jenny are handled in a very casual, this-is-how-we-roll kind of way. There isn't a lot of addressing how scandalous their relations may have actually been in the 1920s, so bravo to Ms. Barnes for creating such a dynamic for her characters.

So those are the only concrete things I can say that I actually "know" about the book.

But as far as everything else, there is certainly a lot more I could say, but I have no real sense of whether or not any interpretation I have of the novel is even remotely close to what the intent of the text was. Many of the reviews I have read about the book have called it notoriously difficult to get through, and that might be the understatement of my book-reading year. At one point, I was reading certain passages of text out loud to my boyfriend, telling him that it all felt like a riddle that I was not nearly smart enough to figure out. His first response upon hearing what I read was that it reminded him of Burroughs, which is interesting given that Burroughs called it, "One of the greatest books of the 20th century." So certainly something of him responded to something in it. And just as a side note, Naked Lunch was the only book I have ever started reading and didn't bother to finish, if that tells you how I feel about non-linear writing.

But that's exactly where I struggled so much with this book: the language. I found myself continually wishing that I was reading it as part of a college lit class so that I could have others to discuss with, and tease apart each chapter/page/paragraph/sentence to try to make sense of it and come to better terms with it. But it often infuriated me, again, particularly Dr. O'Connor's monologues, because in some ways it felt very forced. That it was pseudo-intellectual jargony garbage spouted by one character that was more a means for the author to elevate non-sensical writing to some kind of higher level, "oooo...this is what smart people talk about" kind of content. HOWEVER, I am perfectly willing to acknowledge that I JUST DIDN'T GET IT. Certainly, there were some gorgeous morsels of text conveying philosophical thoughts or just statements on humanity that I loved, and I feel fairly certain that if I were to go back and read it for a second or third time that many  of the themes and concepts about time and death and love and obsession would gel more in my little noodle and I would have a much greater appreciation for the novel. But as the other reviews indicated, it was notoriously difficult....sigh.

But I love that this book challenged me. That it puzzled me and made me feel dumb. That it made me want to read it again. That it made me want to look up every obscure reference to things like the palace of Nymphenburg, lying down with Nelly and falling into the arms of Gretchen (I can only assume that's not referring to "It's Gettin' Hot in Herre" Nelly), and the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. That in spite of looking all of these things up, it still didn't help me one iota to figure out how that reference made sense in the context of the doctor's diatribes.  

So yes, sigh. I know a repeated sigh is not that illuminating to describe my feelings about the book, but a sigh is kind of all I can muster.

But to finish with one of those gems of prose that I latched on to and loved. I can only hope that if I come back to read this again one day, more will jump out at me to establish a deeper appreciation.

"In time everything is possible and in space everything forgivable; life is but the intermediary vice. There is eternity to blush in."

234 to go.