I was a little unsure if I was going to blog about this one, but in the interest of honesty – here I am. I picked this book up in my previous failed visit to the library (they didn’t have the books I ordered available yet). This was the kind of book that I picked up, had a feeling I wasn’t going to like, but “maybe it had promise” and I only had two books and … I grabbed it.
I started it on the way home last night (I had finished the other two books). The premise is the story of an Iranian Jew living in the 20th century who comes from a long line of Persian Jews. It’s funny – now as I try to sum it up, I realize why I knew I wouldn’t like it. I tend not to like books that span multiple generations. I find that I can’t really identify with anyone or keep all the names and relations straight. This was compounded by the fact the names were (understandably) Persian. I am really bad with non-familiar names – reading anything in a fantasy genre for me is an exercise in multiple notecards. I can do multi-generational/protagonist stories if they are somehow weaved together, or only two or three generations and set up into two or three separate parts of one book. This wasn’t. There was a family tree at the beginning of the book that I kept flipping to, and I just couldn’t keep anything straight. The other two dealbreakers was that almost halfway through the story, Peacock (a girl) was FINALLY born – and I realized that the rest of the book would probably be about her, and I just had nothing invested yet. That, and the book had a bunch of “magical realism” and I was just … uninterested. Oh, and it was my subway stop.
Unless it really gets desperate around here, I probably won’t pick this up again. I can live with not knowing what happens, mainly because I am not sure what happened already.
Ironic that my longest post so far is about a book I didn’t finish?