Status Updates From Island People

Please ignore my last update about this being clear and easy to follow oopsies this is wildly difficult

Was expecting this to be ultra experimental and opaque because of the wild summary but it’s super engaging and clear and has some fun ~mystery~ stuff going on right now!

The prose in this is beautiful. I will give it that. For some reason, I am having a hard time following what the hell is going on in this book. I can't figure who is talking at any given moment or who they are. Maybe this is the point, to just go with the flow and not care what is going on. I will keep plugging away at it but not sure I won't get bored with it and just return it to the library.

He told her, "In such a night of smoking and drinking and eating strong cheese, I would like to scrape my tongue and make you an omelet."
"I've always loved your cooking."

Unlike soap, purity in sex is not desirable. The missionary position, even for the length of a story, may develop the thighs but it deadens the imagination.

February is the four o'clock in the morning of the year. The bars are closed, telephones are off their hooks, those who made no earlier arrangements for sex or companionship are fair game for their fancies until dawn.

Hunting season opened today, this little autonomy out of step with the rest of the world. Dawn broke to the sounds of slaughter. Beefy men scuttle in and out of the woods. I could pick them off from my window.

"In the clarity of his alcoholic vision he saw that such parties were the roots from which the urge to violence seeped upward and out to undermine the city. Any literary gathering, he knew from long experience, was the equivalent of a bomb factory."

I will get there. It's not a matter of pages. It's the swelter and blood loss.

The intensity cannot maintain without bursting. Can it?

"I am more concerned with what can be intuited, with those actions and reasons explainable only by atavism, accessible only to instinct."

A reread. Reread? A false supposition. A friend like me doesn’t. Too many more books to read. She didn’t want to waste the time. Her husband rereads often with greater interest. An initial reread of McDowell’s, Island People, shows rereading not as an experience of furthering an elder experience but is a new experience. My placid and dull associations of reread loses "to read" anew as a fresh new verb.

I can't read this. Actually I don't want to. Wrong choice made by wrong people who liked this position.