by Julian Barnes. Love as Albatross. Exhausting self-indulgent pompous musings on “love”. If this is love, it’s the most masochistic self-loathing version of it ever written. I did get through it despite it becoming more ponderous and plodding as it went so slowly and depressingly along. Wow. Alcoholism aside. Martini. Please!
Warlight, Michael Ondaatje The Only Story, Julian Barnes Keep hoping for a good one!