I am now about 110 pages into the second novel of Richard Ford’s Bascombe trilogy. So far it reflects the author’s penchant for reflective writing and the search for meaning in the banality of daily living.
It is challenging to find Bascombe a truly sympathetic character at this point. Sure he’s insightful. He spews more sage advice about the “permanent period” than a Trevi Fountain. However I am cautious about this novel’s narrative: will it invite me to embrace his main character as someone I genuinely care about, in terms of what he does and says?
The jury is out for now. I’ll provide an update once I am halfway through the 490 pages or so. For now, I will quaff Ford’s melodic styling.
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