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Uncle Barb's

"Like any artist without an art form, she became dangerous"

- Toni Morrison (Sula) -

Joy

In a Strange Room

I completely understand why this was Booker Prize nominated, but my psyche couldn't take that much sorrow and loneliness.

The book is divided into 3 parts: 1. The Stranger, 2. The Lover, 3. The Guardian. After reading The Stranger, I was looking forward to The Lover, but it was as lonely a read as I've ever experienced. I attempted to go on to The Guardian, but the schizophrenic blues were just too much for me. While I can appreciate Galgut's writing skills, I cannot bear his abject point of view.

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