note: joylessness (or half a review)
It's been a while since I started my Booker run, and while I had a good pace going, I'm simply stuck. I've little trouble reading on books I don't like, and I often come around to understanding, appreciating, or enjoying them. Nadine Gordimer's The Conservationist is very well written, and I suspect that the prose is very much meant to reflect the setting.
But by god, this book is joyless. I love darkness, and I love dreariness in a book. I seek them out even. The Conservationist is just so joylessly written, however, that it's just become so much of an effort to even think about picking it up and going on. It's been nearly a month since I started it, I think!