Goldfinches

Last night I finished The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. I loved reading the book. I thought about it when I wasn't reading it, which was often since I spend my days chasing a one year old. I was impressed at the novel's depth and forward motion. When I finished, I didn't feel at all like I missed the characters or the story, though, as I often do with a book I fall for. Maybe 800 pages will do that for you. You get your fill.

I wanted to jot down some thoughts I have, as they come, and this first batch is too long for Twitter, so we meet again, old friend.

The ending has been hanging around in my mind a bit today, and I want to preface my thoughts on the ending with this: Kid Wonder was fussing a lot in the next room as Scott watched her and gave me time to finish up. I'm sure my rush to finish coupled with her screams in the other room affected my feel for the last few pages.

At any rate, first I want to say that I appreciated Tartt's commitment to fucking going all in. Lest we were wondering what all this amounted to, we got soliloquies from three characters giving us their takes on the deal. I actually appreciate that. Under the influence of quiet realism or domestic fictions, show/don't tell, etc., I think I started off trying too damn hard to avoid just saying the damned thing. (Perhaps that previous sentence is a fine example of saying everything but the damned thing you intend.) Anyway, it felt nice to have all the big ideas laid out before us. Loved it! I'm not sure, though, that I needed Hobie, Boris, and Theo to each go on so long, though.

It's funny, that in a novel nearly 800 pages long, I felt that the last 20 or so were long-winded. Babies screaming will do funny things to the things we come to love. Anyway, I expect to have more thoughts in the coming days, so maybe I'll be back around.

Also --
Soon, I'll sit down and read this from Alexander Chee.