I'd never read the novel of someone I know. Short stories, sure. Poems, sure. Blog posts, certainly. But never a whole novel, bound and sold through an actual retailer. And, while I haven't actually met James, I feel like I know him after the mutual reading of blogs and sharing of the experiences of greyhound ownership and Philippine living. As a result, I was a bit nervous to read this book and then to write about it. What if it turns out to be a dud? How do I write that, when it's quite likely the author would read the review? With all this concern, it's clear I do not have the stones to be a critic for a living.
Good thing I liked the book.
The story in A Place Without A Postcard is about a tabloid photographer who is in an accident and wakes up to find himself wanted for the murder of a police officer but no memory of why, or even who he is. And he's blind, to boot. Since the story is told from his point of view, the setting and the interactions are described through the other senses.
While parts of the story are unlikely occurrences, even in west Texas, I did find out the root of the name of his blog. But the most exciting part was a visceral reaction to the narrative. After I finished reading and put the book down, I found my sensory perception of the world heightened, if only for a day or two. It was kinda surreal, but very neat. And when a book can make you see the world differently, that can only be good.
A Man Called Ove
2 days ago