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A book of characters without a plot or story. Jealousy, memory, desire. My summary: love is suffering and love vanishes upon possession of the beloved. To maintain a belief in love we have to be unable to capture or possess the object of our love.

Marcel, and his mother and grandmother are the only rational characters in the novel. Everyone else is an imposter or false or hypocritical.

Though Marcel is insecure.

Struggling to find a reason to read the last hundred pages. Thoroughly ridiculous plot and a despicable main narrator named Bradley.

My first exposure to Toni Morrison - an intelligent friend recommended this book to me. I like her writing style. It's tricky trying to understand exactly what is happening but I find it very good.

Quite captivating. A lot of dialogue and little exposition. Characters acting odd and going off to Europe for holiday. A mother and her wayward son who is a lady killer. Something like Jane Austen meets E.M. Forster and Tolstoy, with Marcel Proust.

First story - Dedication of an Airport - was fair and nothing more.

It is an attempt to write like the mind thinks - interrupted thoughts, shifting back to memory all while functioning in the here and now. Imagine all your thoughts projected in words out loud as you operate? The actual story is not interesting. But as a writing experiment I enjoy it.

Benji story is part one and I am reading without looking at other reviews and pretty lost. Benji is 33 but acts like 3 and is Christmas but the chapter is set in April and he doesn't speak but everyone is telling him what to do - put your hands in your pockets to keep them warm.