Thursday, April 28, 2016

Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson

It's hard to find those kind of books where the action slowly meanders through the streets and fields, and doesn't come blasting out of weapons, or splash through in a rapid sequence, firing wit at a whiplash pace. Winesburg, Ohio shapes the character of a small town through its characters, told slowly and gently through short story glimpses. I love a quiet paced book, with good writing, and even though this was really vignettes/short stories, it still had the gentle quality I long for in today's action packed world. It's a tale of another time, truly another world, and probably not to everyone's liking. I read it in sips and nibbles between other reads, because at times, the pace did make even Jane Austen seem fast.

I'm a'most embarrassed to admit, I might not have picked this up were it not for the Stanford Book Salon. I read in someone's review that the author died from peritonitis after his intestine was perforated  by a piece of a toothpick left in a martini olive. I just want to reassure everyone that knows about the czuk "Martini Night" ritual on (most) Fridays, that we do not toothpick our Castlevietro  olives.

No comments:

Post a Comment