I was initially excited to read this book because I love post-apocalyptic fiction and because the first reviewers of the book seemed to think it was a wonderful work of fiction. The publishers gave Harkaway a little over $535,000 to write the book, so I was hoping that there was a reason for it other than that Harkaway is the son of famous author John le Carre.
Unfortunately, I found myself thinking the publishers got a raw deal since the problems I had with the first 2 pages continued throughout the book. I handed the book to my husband, also a prolific reader, and he thought it was as awful as I did. The grammar breaks all the rules. Misplaced modifiers abound. The author turns everything into a metaphor and then rambles on for several paragraphs concerning that metaphor. And the majority of the book exists only because the author is unable to keep himself from going off on wild tangents that may or may not relate to the story at large.
However, I was willing to suspend the technical problems of the book as artistic license since so many ecstatic reviewers seemed to think Harkaway's writing style is groundbreaking. Unfortunately, as I read on, I found myself dreading picking up the book every day. I'd find myself nodding off to sleep after 2 pages and find myself forcing myself to plod through more. After 147 pages, I just can't bring myself to read 351 more pages.
I have a feeling that this is a book that either you like or you hate. I didn't want to be a hater, but I just can't go on. My congratulations to those of you who could.Note: While I critique both purchased and free books in the same way, I'm legally obligated to tell you I received this book free through the Amazon Vine program in return for my review. Blah blah blah.