Jennifer Egan is one of the most talented writers in the US today. A great, great talent. Her books are invariably enjoyable to read because she writes beautifully.
But I forget every page the moment I finish it. It’s the weirdest thing. It’s enough for me to interrupt the reading to visit the bathroom to lose all memory of what I was reading before I paused.
Egan is talented but she doesn’t have much to write about. It’s the third book by her that I’m reading, and I can’t tell you what they are about to save my life. I do know that I’m massively enjoying the process, that’s all.
Reminds me of something Bruce Sterling wrote about John Updike, that he could make anything interesting through “the sheer grace of [his] narrative technique”.
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