“George Washington Carver began to hallucinate eight days before he died”
So begins Tinkers by Paul Harding and boy oh boy. How do I say this?
How do I say a book sucks?
How do I dare say that something someone worked on, putting their heart and soul into for months and maybe years and managed to find an agent and a publisher and got it finally out there and received accolades and a Pulitzer Prize and how dare I say it sucks?
Or maybe I’m not deep enough or smart enough to plumb the depths of this tiny little white book about a guy dying and dreaming of his dead father. Or maybe, kinda like feeding caviar to a puppy, it was just wasted on me- but I just didn’t get it.
I kept waiting and reading and wanting the story to build, for it to do something other than simply chronicle George’s death. But it didn’t.
Next on the dog pile- Continental Drift by Russell Banks