Nick Reads The Goldfinch: Introduction

I'm in a tough spot.

The St. Mark Bookclub is on hiatus for the summer, but we all chose to read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, the book that apparently everyone is talking about (even though no one outside of my bookclub is talking about it).  It's a long book, but we had the whole summer to read it.  True to to form I only started it today.

I didn't procastinate:  here's what happened.

Every year I go head to head with my dad and my brother in the annual English Premier League Marickovich Family Throwdown.  Last year was the first year of the new format where we each pick four teams from different strata in the league (the best, the okay, the steady mid-table teams, the ones hoping to avoid relegation), and whomever selects the four teams that perfrom the best overall during the season in the standings wins the prize.  The prize:  each of the losers have to buy the winner a book (no first editions or rare books).

One of the books I selected was The Goldfinch.

Before I continue just let me say that I usually got nothing bad to say about the Post Office.  My grandfather worked for the Post Office, and he and thousands upon thousands of good men and women day in and day out work hard to deliver your coopins, your magazines, your bills.  And they are usually pretty good about shipping Amazon's stuff pretty quickly, even at standard shipping speeds, because as we all know Amazon has a fulfillment center near you.

Well, my book started in Freemont California on the 10th.  Old Postmaster Frankleton put it in his saddlebag and he proceeded to schlep it at a modest rate across the country, stopping for pee and coffee breaks in every small town and hamlet on the way.  Finally, today, after a harrowing 19 day journey, it arrived on my doorstep.

So I have about a month to read....864 pages.  It really starts on page 5 so there are actually 859 pages. The print is small, the lines are single spaced.  Books like this have taken me 6 months to read.  In addition, my understanding is that the novel is Dickensian in a modern sort of way, which sounds great except that my track record with Dickens isn't great, I've only finished about 40% of the Dickens novels I have started.

It's so long that I am worried that I'm forget what I've read.  So instead of taking notes I'm going to blog about it, and subject the world to one modest man's thoughts on this year's Pulitzer Prize winner.

I can't promise you expert analysis.  I can promise you spoilers.  Follow along if you dare.  Or if you care.

The cards are stacked against me.  But I've got to do it if I am actually going to go to bookclub and do more than stuff my face with cheese and fall asleep on the couch.