Monday, April 17, 2006

Mitchell's Sigh

It was no great feat that I began reading Black Swan Green so suddenly, nor that I put it to rest this evening, ideally -- just as the weather turned tumultuous. What did it inspire? Certainly there angst and everyman - equally Holden Caufield and Stephen Dedalus. There was that sidelong glance to the eighties, to my own adolescence, the Line of Beauty and a disagreeable nod to Cloud Atlas. It was a torreent in divisible sections. It all the flourish and boredom that daily devour our youth. It is an abstraction and an anti-war stroph. Such remain its mechanics.


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