Pulitzer Prize winning novel of 2009 and after reading the polarizing reviews I expected it to be a wordy read. Its a mixture of poetic thought and prose and goes on tangents more often than not and definitely not for everyone. As George lies dying in his home he hallucinates about the house collapsing and remembers his childhood. However, it is not only his story. We also learn about his father Harold, an epileptic who left them when George was young.
There is nothing linear about this novel, it switches back and forth between the two narratives all the while explaining random things like how to build a bird's nest in vivid detail. Harding's descriptions bring everything to life in a way few authors can manage to do. You feel the panic that George feels as his father has a epileptic fit in front of him. My heart broke at his failed attempt to escape and at Harold's acceptance of George's need to run away. Every moment discussed comes alive through Harding's descriptions. Its beautiful and bleak. Clocks are the recurring metaphor and for me helped connect all the dots. All those random tangents come together and stress the beauty and complications of life as a dying man remembers his past.
While reading it I had to occasionally stop to absorb what I had read. It is a thing of beauty to have words have that kind of effect on the reader. You are weighed down by the writing to such an extent that you need a moment to breathe. I think its masterful and I found the ending was perfect.
You should not read this book if you don't like poetry. It might be a short novel in length but not so in prose. Expect to read things over and expect some confusion. There is no grand heroine or hero, no mystery to be solved, no answer to be had. Instead, the jumbled thoughts throughout the book combine to make the reader ponder the vast unanswerable question of life, loss, family and home.
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