lifetime book-lover who writes about - what else? - a variety of books.
maybe it's me. maybe i'm in a reading funk, and don't really know it. but while i can appreciate Mitchell's writing - it's sleek and polished and frequently inter-sped with beautiful bursts of poetic description - i can't help but wish he would get to the bloody point already.
i'm a little past the halfway point, and i still don't know where all this plot is going, or even if it is going somewhere. if it is, it's going about its business very slowly.
a recurring thought: all these people - in particular, these men through which most of the story has been told - really seem to care about holly. am i supposed to care about her too? because, although she frequently pops up as a side-character in someone else's story, i kinda don't.
but then, maybe this is all intentional. maybe the structure of this book is trying to mimic the circular maze at the heart of the story by making its labyrinthine way to the middle (the main plot) through the eyes of selfish men who care, in their way, about holly at some point in their lives (this pattern is getting a little tiresome, but that's another post for another day).
and . . . i sound snarky. i don't mean to sound snarky. it's not a chore reading The Bone Clocks. it's just not a joy either. right now, i'm reading it because it want to finish it, but not particularly because i can't put it down. i'm told it gets better. here's hoping.