My dad has a saying: “Granny (his mom) likes to fish. I like to catch fish.”
I could say something similar regarding me and books. I have friends who like to read. I like read a good book.
If I were in the first category, I might have liked Geraldine Brooks’ 2006 Pulitzer Prize winning novel March. It was well written and an interesting concept, but it just didn’t do anything for me. The story is that of Mr. March, the absentee father from Louisa May Alcott’s famous Little Women. Brooks takes the few facts we know of him from Alcott’s story and crafts her own, adding in historical events and figures from the early Civil War including Thoreau and Emerson.
To be fair, this novel had one strike against it before I ever picked it up – I’m not a fan of Little Women. I read it when I was much younger, and for whatever reason, it just didn’t take. So, all of Brooks intertwining of the tales – that I’m sure many will appreciate – was lost on me.
I did love the story line of March and Grace Clement – a young black slave that he meets when he’s young who shows up in his life several more times. The subtle romance was well developed, interesting and believable.
But as a whole, I found Mr. March boring, whiney and stuffy. Which doesn’t make for a very desirable main character. At least for me. But then I like to catch fish, too.
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