The Black House by Peter May
This book was quite a challenge. In essence I read for enjoyment, and part of the pleasure process is letting the mind fill in the gaps, that the text has left out. Or it could be thought of adding the colour to a black and white image. As such I feel that when a book goes into great detail it is moving to the land of a script for a play or film rather than a novel. This is fine so long as the story line is enjoyable, but I do not think it is a good thing if it is not. Describing pain, suffering death etc in great detail is just not needed, and is not enjoyable.
That being said we come to the book - I would say that it was a real smorgasbord of a book. The impression given was that it had been written over a long time, as different parts of it read in a totally different ways. (Maybe even an editor looked at it and told the author to add some grittiness to the book, as some sections certainly have this) Some parts were really enjoyable and brought back the happy memories I have of being on Lewis, other parts to me were just plain crude, and unpleasant.
I very nearly gave up on the book and throw it away, as it has a totally unnecessarily detailed description of a post mortem, which ends up with people wanting to be sick, and the same can be said for the reader. I must say that I find it hard to identify with the reviews quoted on the cover about the book, but I did get to the end, and it did not end up being burnt on the fire, so it must have had some redeeming qualities. This is book 42, week 32 read novels 29, poetry 1, study, audio 10
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Dyslexic doodles on photography, food (growing, cooking & of course eating), faith and other fascinating things. This is a personal blog expressing my views.