sometimes i wonder if she writes with her pinky up.

i go back and forth about whether or not that's a valid reason to say that's one reason i'm not the biggest fan of her work. i especially wonder what that says about me, the reader.

another reason why i wasn't excited about the book was because i started to not care towards the end of it. i didn't want to feel that way. if she wants to write 1,700 damn pages about her husband and daughter, well, she has every right to do it and treat that matter as she sees fit.

however.

even with the considerable free pass she kind of gets b/c she's dealing with the weighty life-changing reality death and illness, i felt like the book was a little bit too long. i started to feel like she was making a mountain out of a mole-hill and i can't stand that i felt that way as a reader and yes i want to blame joan, the writer, for it. ha.

it's the "questions" she asks at the end of some blurbs, that make me say that. those questions also made the book seem like an inside inside story, that only she knows. that was disappointing. it's hard to say that's not her right to go at it that way, though.

obviously the book was about grieving, obviously it was about writing. in fact, she all but hints that it was about both and much more. for example, the re-calling of 9-11 was unecessary, to me. the way she balanced the "both and much more" part?...ionno if she pulled it off.

that's where i go: i feel like a schmuck for saying that.

that's why the book wasn't too hot, to me. if i wanted to comment on something more critical about the writing, i felt badly saying it, because of her situation.