I don’t recall a novel ever leaving me feeling numb before. Take tonight, for example. Charles has found Sarah and they’ve engaged in their final, anguished conversation. I had to put the book down at one point. It was getting too tough and I needed to summon the wherewithal to see it through. Too familiar. Too many rattling skeletons, gibbering ghosts, snarling gremlins – call them what you will. It was never cosy fireside reading.
We leave Charles probably heading back to America, there to live out his fractured life and end his days. I wonder where I’ll end mine.
This topic is now closed. Off for some light relief, courtesy of barley juice and Japanese phantoms.