Winter is the perfect time to read. Fire. Whisky. Curtains drawn. Hibernation.
I recently read an interesting book by Thomas Wolfe, of whom I had never heard. No. Not THAT Tom Wolfe. Thomas Wolfe who wrote a book called Look homeward angel. It is, I gather autobiographical and the story of a boy who does not ‘fit’ with his rambunctious family in the south of the U.S.A. It’s frustrating, pretentious and absorbing with some lyrical, beautiful writing. Apparently he was admired by Jack Kerouac and I can see why.
More recently I returned to the Spanish theme by reading Arbol’s The heart tastes bitter.
It’s categorised as a psychological thriller and it is.
While at times it’s difficult to keep track of all the characters (reading in bed as you fall asleep doesn’t help) it becomes one of those connected pieces where everyone has a role and a place.
Once I got going I loved it. Madrid. A side trip to Buenos Aires and Algerian history. The effects of past deeds, past loves, present distress and past loss. Enduring love. Bitterness and pain. The seedy side of Madrid. Abuse. Perversion. Distorted love for one’s own children. Revenge. Money and power.
The perfect book for a cold wintry evening.