Despite being an English literature major, I have always had a hard time reading novels. Unless I can devote a solid amount of time to becoming invested in a story, I find myself starting over at the beginning every time I sit down to read a book until I give up (and inevitably blame the book for being of a caliber incapable of winning over my attention).

Since I am back to the 9-5 (who are we kidding? 11 - 9) after graduating, I have fallen into a nightime routine that gives me enough time to get invested (turns out it wasn’t the books after all).

I just finished A Very Long Engagement last night. I hate reviews for lots of reasons. I fear I might say something about the book that is imprecise. I often can’t wrap my mind around precisely why I liked or didn’t like a particular work. In some instances I simply don’t want to deny others the exciting process of discovery that I had.

So this is my review:

The book contained two lines that caused me to stop reading dead in my tracks, filled with a jealousy I can’t remember ever having felt before. And this is officially the first and only book to make me consider learning French so that I could capture any hint of additional beauty that may have been lost in translation.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 27th, 2006 at 10:53 pm and is filed under Books, Fiction, Recommendations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.