Rarely do I talk shit about a book. I know that, at best, I could maybe muster a passable short story so I tread lightly when it comes to my views in the monthly book post.
But despite the positive reviews from the NY Times, I am flummoxed by the praise for this trilogy by Rachel Cusk.
All three books follow our protagonist, a writer, as she travels to various points of the globe talking with, well, mostly just listening to the uninteresting stories of others. She does interviews about her books that seem fake because no real questions are asked. She talks with a contractor about a house. She chats with other writers. But it is all so passive. Nothing happens. No epiphanies small or large.
I kept reading thinking that a payoff was coming. A rant from the writer, something explosive all waiting in the third book. Alas, not to be. It just ends with a whimper.
That leads me to the beer to pair with it. Since the trilogy is missing fireworks, this is where the beer comes in. Find something with Chai or jalapenos or a bracing jolt of lemon to add anything to the experience. Or maybe grab your favorite coffee beer to keep yourself awake.