Musing Munich with Chamberlin's Aplomb

The reading has continued with an unexpected depth, the novel, rather, not my approach. I say depth but such is an inadvertant misnomer, Powell yields an exhaustive taxonomy of convention for interwar English aristocracy. The issue becomes the blatant dearth, the crumbling sense of ennui, periodically bayoneted by blushing encounters of a coincidental bent.

Is it worth it, I have often considered these last few days? I am about 300 pages from the end of the First Movement (three novels) and I will wait to see what requires adjusting. I am also going to reread The Final Solution by Michael Chabon, this time in tandem with my wife who greatly enjoyed White Noise.