Possession has left me speechless. But I’ll still write 296 words for this post, because I like you guys so much.
Or maybe I should say “unable to write”—or whatever the synonym for that is. I feel like this novel has sucked all the life out of my creative bones. It’s a literary Ambien that leaves me in a daze.
I want to finish it badly so I can move on to the next novel and cleanse my bookish palette, yet moving forward is so painful and there are so many other more worthwhile things I could be doing—like trimming my sideburns or spending two hours on the phone with AT&T’s customer service.
This book is like a condensed version of A Dance To The Music Of Time. And by “condensed,” I mean it’s 500 pages instead of 3,500 pages. I think that might be high point for Possession when I review it soon.
I have nothing else to say about A.S. Byatt and her Booker Award winning novel, Possession, at this present time. I don’t have any passages from the novel to share, no witty quotes from its author, nothing insightful about movie adaptations or anything of the like.
I’m just done. You win, A.S. Byatt. You win. Your intellectual, academic tale of two Victorian poets and the modern-day academics who research them has left me dead in my soul.
At this point, I’m tempted to simply post my review with four words: “I hated this book” and then throw it down in the bowels of my rankings with the likes of Mrs. Dalloway and A Dance To The Music Of Time.
But I’ll do better than that. Surely I can find something positive about this novel.
Fingers crossed…my review will come next week.
I hope you enjoyed this blog post of me complaining.
