Tonight was book club night. Even though I don't always make it to the end of every book that is chosen I've been trying to make it to most of our get-togethers. This evening found only four of us around the table but there was still much to be discussed. Can a writer use too many similes? Must we read 10 pages of detail about the killing of a goat? How much vivid should the writing be when describing a child who is vomiting in the back seat of a car? And must that detail go on for pages and pages?
Sing, Unburied, Sing was a grim read filled with a little too much throw-up talk and although some of the similes left a mark on some group members- "He matched the sky, which hung low, a silver colander full to leak"- others were not as impressed. So readers, if you're looking for something big on feeling and big on descriptive details and figurative language this may be the read for you.
Me? I heard enough to put this one back on the shelf for another time. I'm not up for a bleak read right now, but who knows? I might be just what I need on another day.
16 hours ago