Rated 4.0 / 5 from 1 log on Katalog
Strange read. Uncomfortable in its humor. It shouldn’t be funny, is the thing. A book like this should be acerbic at its lightest points, but definitely furious. Sad. It’s uncomfortable that this resembles Twain, when I expected Chekhov, Flaubert or Balzac. At most, you expect Morrison. I’ve no concrete thoughts yet, except a vague, omnidirectional sadness. There’s something about abolitionist lit that strikes at the heart. There’s something about the strength and depth of John Browns moral fortitude that makes your throat squeeze. You can’t help but think about the horrors that made a man like that. And that’s a lot of a thought, even when inspired a book that resembles Huck Finn in shape and make.
