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might not (likely will not) beguile most; but started to work a bit of magic on me. dalloway-ish stream of consciousness layered atop a wharton-y panoply of social circles and, therefore, disjarringly anachronistic; unconcerned with plot but heavy invested in import. sentences wending and twisting and barely touching the concrete, but just enough to actually move the story forward even through the reverie. and a narrative / character obfuscation (have fun figuring out which “she” is she-ing through the first chapter) sitting just this side of the frustrating.
thank you vivian gornick. i love reading about walking around new york. this felt more like a short story than a novel and i liked the cerebral introspective pieces more than i cared for the plot. sometimes found it hard to follow which character was the “she” she was referring to but eventually got into the groove
loved this (among other passages): “Did one ever get used to New York, she wondered, as she continued down the avenue — the energy, the daring — the surprise! It laid its spell upon one certainly. Sometimes you admired, you loved it so; and at other times you couldn't hate or fear it enough; you were unable to put your trust in it. Always it seemed unreal, ephemeral.”
Nach 61 Seiten habe ich dann abgebrochen, da ich überhaupt keine Bindung zum Buch aufbauen konnte. Die Protagonisten sind egoistisch und unsympathisch.