January Books 12) Absalom, Absalom!, by William Faulkner

Crumbs. I’ve been trying to read a bit more of the great modernist writers, but I found this really too opaque for my commuting brain; I got that there was a murder and long-lost siblings and racism and slavery and all that, and some interesting characterisation, but it was all a bit dense and none of the characters really all that attractive. Maybe if I’d been reading it on holiday, or while bedridden with some trivial, relatively pain-free, but immobilising complaint, I might have enjoyed it more.

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