Michael Cunningham, The Hours

This book seems to be an exemplar of the kind of book that the world admires, my friends love, and I sort of shrug at. Maybe it’s because I’m a man, maybe it’s because I’ve never read Mrs. DallowayThe Hours struck me as overwrought and somehow fake. There are some real insights here, and some genuinely beautiful prose, but everything about the book – the characters, the story, the message – comes across as a performance, looking for the audience’s reaction out of the corner of its eye.

Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s