To this day I hold a grudge against some books I had to read in English class. Not always because I disliked them so very much but because they just didn’t do much for me and I resented having to scrape together a whole lot of thoughts and opinions about them. It’s not that hard to come up with opinions about books I actually dislike, but what is there to say about neutral books? Apparently, you can’t just type, “eh, whatever” and call it an essay.
I’m remembering this because I just finished The Quickening Maze by Adam Foulds and I feel a lot of “eh, whatever.” Like, I finished it on the subway this afternoon and I already half forget it. It has Alfred Tennyson and an insane asylum and, uh, some other stuff. Oh man, I’m going to fail the quiz but I swear I read the whole thing. I’m reasonably sure in a couple of years I’ll pick up a copy because I like the cover (I do like the cover) and think this sounds familiar and have I read this?
I’m so glad I don’t have to turn in a thousand word essay.