I tore through this one in no time, but it is more of a prose poem than a novel. It is beautifully written and thoughtful, but there is essentially no plot and no one really changes from the beginning to the end of the book. An excellent example of literary fiction, but not everyone’s cup of tea. I like this kind of book if I want to feel elite and smart, but usually I like my fiction to tell a good story. I guess I’m a bit old fashioned that way. Or maybe I just prefer non-fiction and only dip into fiction when I want to be entertained.
Winter Reading: Momo by Michael Ende
The men in grey are stealing time… A beautiful critique of modernity by the German author of The Never Ending Story.
