I finally finished reading Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon. It took months, mostly because I would read until I couldn’t stand the writing, then set it down for a week. I had to wait until I forgot how much I wasn’t enjoying the book before I could pick it up again. And honestly, that’s really disappointing.
It wasn’t a bad book, persay, and there were parts of it I liked a lot. The whole thing felt like Chabon was writing way out of his element and needed an editor with a much heavier hand. I get that it was more of an experiment for him, and props for expanding his writing style, but all in all–bleck. I’m glad I finished it.
I told myself I couldn’t start JK Rowling’s A Casual Vacancy until I finished Telegraph Avenue. I have, I’m already 200 pages in and so far–mixed reviews. I love her writing, and she’s incredibly talented, but the style doesn’t fit the story very well. I can’t decide if her style is inherently whimsical, or if it’s just residual attachment to Harry Potter, but I keep waiting for The Big Plot Twist Involving Magic. I know it isn’t there, but still. A lot of the plot is too dark and serious for the bouncy way she writes, and if it stays that way the entire time I’ll say it’s not a very good book. But I’m still enjoying it more than Chabon’s most current hotmessexpress.