Anil's Ghost

So yesterday, after finishing most of the second half of the book on the plane back from Paris, I read the last 40-ish pages on the sands of Rehoboth, profiter-ing de soleil.

There's a lot in the book to unpack, and I liked the way the story built and unfolded. It was less episodic and fractured than Divisadero, but a lot messier in other ways.  The elusive, elliptical, emotional prose was rich and powerful - but like reading in a bit of dream.  I like the way he feels his way through a narrative, and the way he has the characters navigate the inherent uncertainty and shades of grey between experience and reality.  Between thought and expression.  Between emotion and surface. It made me think of Bolano (in 2666) in terms of grappling with unspeakable horror - but Bolano does something quite different (more in line with his visceral realism) and less intuitive with it.  

Now on to Angle of Repose.  Supplemented by Handwriting and some short stories (Dubliners 100) and my New Yorker backlog.