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Susan Wicks is a poet, and crafts her novels with same meticulous attention to details. Perhaps the people who would best appreciate her books are writers and would-be writers.
A story about an English teacher and her baby daughter, the real plot of the story is hidden to the readers till the second half of the book.
There is a creative twist to the usual unreliable narrator, people who like narratology will certainly enjoy this.
Yet it is not all form and no content, the form only contributes to push the point to full impact. Like the synopsis on the book jacket says, "..as the story unfolds..the foundations.. begin to crumble with shocking effect". The result is a deeply moving book.
Wicks also includes some very refreshing observant details, vivid and sensuous, to her narrative to ground the readers in the story. These details often imply deeper symbolisms too.
Eg. "In the pan the bubbles gradually subside, as a thick brown skin forms round the bowl of the wooden spoon, wrinkling when I try to stir."
It's a pity that her books are now out-of-stock. They would make good readings for students of Literature and Creative Writing.
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This is the kind of "slow" book where nothing much happens in terms of a traditional plot, no great tragedy or suspense. There are more thoughts than actions; it is more about our inner world than the external world.
It may not appeal to the masses, but if you slow down and read it consciously, you will find much pleasure in the minute details, the understated emotions, undertows of tension, vivid descriptions, resonant symbolism, all cleverly manipulated by the author.
Perhaps it would help to know that Susan Wicks is also a poet too. She apparently consciencious of the words she uses.
I like it very much because I love reticent narrators and subtleties; I love a convincing, lyrical voice; I love creative twists to narrative forms,and I admire finely crafted works like this.
It is a pity that this book is now out of print, and seemingly unpopular. Perhaps the unfortunate result of bad marketing. I hope it is not due to the numbing of our tastebuds for such fine subtleties from reading too much popular trash.