Here is a book that I just could not finish. Try as I might.
This book revolves around a linguistics' Professor's attempt to deal with the tragic death of his wife. And since the only witness to the death is their dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Lorelei, the widower attempts to discover what happened by trying to teach the dog to talk, literally. In the interim, Paul, the widower flashes back to his life with his wife, and retrospectively, more sadness emerges.
I tried to read this book, but it is so full of anguish that I just couldn’t see myself wrapping my mind around such blackness for 264 pages. I just did not want to immerse myself in searing obscurity, regardless of the ‘dog’ storyline, which, by the way, in and of itself was a little far-fetched, even for me.
I read, su per giu, ten chapters. Ten extremely depressing chapters, and finally had to retire the book to my library.
There was a time when I probably would have liked this book, but I was a different person then. I was a dark person then. Asleep in my own life. I am awake now and darkness no longer has a place in my life. Not even remotely.
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