A literary work of art, about a work of art. Possibly my favourite discovery of the year.
I had been told to read The Goldfinch by several people, some of whom I work with, but had resisted because of the sheer size of the book and the fact that my local library only had the hardback (I know, these are the trials and tribulations of someone who has to stick to a monthly book budget!). Secondly, I wasn’t sure that it was going to live up to the hype. On the latter, I was completely wrong.
The story is about too many things to explain in one blog post. You’re travelling through pain and death and adolescence and despair and feeling lost and alone and unrequited love and crazy friends and the impending feeling that someone is going to catch you out.
The Goldfinch is about much more than a work of art. It’s a crazy, coming of age adventure. It has the Russian mafia in the same pages as a disappointing father.
I don’t want to go too much into it, as I think the best thing to do is read it. If you haven’t read it, believe me, lugging it to and fro from work for a couple of weeks on the underground was totally worthwhile. I cried and I laughed. I made the kind of friends that you can only make in a good book. It was literally unputdownable.
I can guarantee that warm feeling when you finish a great book and you sort of hold it and give a satisfied sigh and have a little smile to yourself. Seriously, it lives up to the hype.
Favourite quote: “And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.”
This review is part of my 1000 books by 30 challenge. Read more about it here!