My failure to connect with this on rereading may be more about changes to me, and perhaps changes to reading itself in the intervening years. It seemed unnecessarily drawn out and kind of… dull? I hasten to reiterate that I think this reflects on on me than the author or the work. I struggle with books that resemble shaggy dog stories or don’t seem to really be about anything other than the plot. That means there are many narrative forms that are artful that I now feel… alienated from perhaps?

If I have a chance to revisit this again in my life I think my view will change.