A garrulous lumbering bumbling man on a ludicrous adventure for redemption, which he is lucky to get (in a sense, it was inevitable, for whether he died or or lived, both endings could have been considered redemptive) in the end. The main character, Henderson, was likeable at first, but become increasingly annoying, even despicable, as the book progressed (I suppose its a case of one either loving or hating him).
I read this on the tail end of Camus' The Stranger, because I all of a sudden got a jones for post-modern realism. Does that ever happen to you? So, it took me way longer than usual to finish this book because I read it slowly and savored it. This is good literature. Beautiful writing. Occasionally really funny, sometimes kind of heartbreaking.
Henderson is so earnest and broken and even when he knows he wants to change he turns away from the hard business. I love the foil that his internal self is to his external self. He's thoughtful and well-meaning on the inside, and on the outside, he is enormous and haphazard and destructive. Does that ever happen to you? He can't help himself, and I cherished reading about it.
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