The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Dear Ron Charles with the Washington Post, you are quoted saying, "...a long novel that never feels long," in regards to this tome of adjectives that equals 771 pages. You are WRONG. This book feels like EVERY single one of those 700 plus pages, and it didn't need to be this way.
This book could have been awesome, and by all accounts of its awards and acclaim, apparently it is, but maybe I'm too stupid to realize its greatness. However, I don't believe I am stupid, or ignorant, or uneducated, but what I do believe is that there is an unnecessary elite that comes with writing a long, drawn out, fatalistic piece that has other authors and critics falling all over themselves to adore. Why? Yes, the story, the bare bones beginning, middle, climax, resolution, it was good, something I would have enjoyed reading, but it was the nonstop depressing rain of descriptions upon descriptions, drawn out conversations that had me screaming in my head, "Just shut up already!"
Again, I wonder, as I do with so many other books that I read and come away dissatisfied, yet feeling so strongly, is this the point the author is trying to make, the impact they so desire? Is it the point to elicit such intense feelings, whether it be love or hatred? I don't hate the book, there were parts I enjoyed, characters I loved, in its entirety, it inspired to want to write more on my own, but is it really as great as some would lead you to believe? I don't think so, but again, what do I know, I'm a stay-at-home mom writing reviews in my spare time.
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Voracious reader and pusher of books.
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