![]() ![]() After all, these are authors living in today’s world relying on peddling their wares to the very people burying their childrens’ children in plastic tombs if these authors are to be believed. That’s fine message to be told, but I don’t appreciate being forced to swallow the utter condemnation of men while turning the pages. Every (other or third) Finnish book that I pick up seems to somehow describe the horrors of natural disasters and a future we as a human race have squandered. I didn’t feel like Itäranta made the oppression and horrors of a dry future awful and dejected enough to justify the lie told in the epilogue. She uses repetition and a book ending for this small story that-unfortunately-remains small. Itäranta writes beautifully, but her story also falters and stumbles on preachiness in the beginning. ![]() That’s what happened to me with this book. You’re waiting for something to happen, something to take the song to the next level and surprise you. Except, you’re waiting for the song to take flight. ![]() You stop to listen and the more you do, the more you like it. ![]() You don’t know the band, but you like the quiet, melancholic melody. A song comes up you’ve never heard before. ![]()
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