sbd
I'm listening to The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake and enjoying it, but I enjoyed it more before I looked up the author and discovered all the prizes and whatnot she got. Maybe it's a case of being left out of the party, but I frequently get a sense of "what am I missing here?" when I discover that an author is hailed as somehow super-uber-author. Same thing happened with the Olive Kitteridge book. I don't get what sets that writing apart. The word choices? The book structure? The sense of despair? How readers respond to the whole package of writing/plot/characterization? Yo, in case I haven't made my POV clear, the books don't shift my view of the universe, or make me see life in a transformed way. They're good, but I wouldn't call them Holy Fuck, that's Some Literature for The Ages good. Maybe I should take more classes in this writing gig--by the time I was done with art school, when it came to paintings, I no longer knew what I liked bu...