Reviewed by jamiereadthis on
And I think what it comes down to is the first person narrator. That voice is so difficult to pull off: to do it, you have to be kind, but you also have to be ruthless. When instead it’s rosy, when it conveys nothing but warmth, when it recounts decades of friendship with a bias of affection, it feels unreliable, a history that’s been glossed and polished. Which is what’s so difficult to pin down, because likely that’s the honest story— it would be more wrong to introduce drama or conflict just for drama’s sake. So maybe, here, it’s not the plot or action (or lack thereof) at fault, it’s the voice. You need some detachment and objectivity if you’re meant to believe something so good. All that first-person sainthood just comes off feeling suspicious, not honest.
Hey, who am I to tell anyone like Stegner how to write, and there’s a whole bounty of beautiful sentences here to prove he knows what he’s doing. But they can’t help it, all that beauty builds up around a core that just seems a little too enchanted, a little too hollow.
Reading updates
- Started reading
- 23 February, 2011: Finished reading
- 23 February, 2011: Reviewed