Another Booker prize winner from the early days of the prize, 1974. This smallish and subtle novel is on the one hand, a fairly good novel, but also one that I am not certain is worthwhile of the prize. Maybe for the year, but it oddly split the prize with Nadine Gordimer’s The Conservationist, which is a weightier and more serious novel, but also one I liked less. Part of my thinking with these early days of prizes is that we have amazingly good writers in their primes not winning like Iris Murdoch, whose yearly offering is almost always better […]
Everybody judges from the point of view of his own inadequacy.
Holiday by Stanley Middleton
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9/23/2019 | 's CBR11 Review No:530 |
