East of the Mountains by David Guterson
I tortured myself months back trying to read this book which I picked up somewhere, enticed that it was a hardback and even autographed by the author. That's most of the positive in it. It proves that an author who writes one good book may not do so again. I loved his "Snow Falling on Cedars", but this "East of the Mts." does not make the cut.
I struggled through page 230 of its 276 pages before shoving it onto the floor near my night time reading chair months back. I found it yesterday while vacuuming. Maybe it's a man's book written by one for them? The story line sounded interesting. Presented as a narration by Ben Givens, retired heart surgeon, new widower, who learns he has terminal colon cancer. Ben takes off into the Columbia Basin of central Washington state to avoid suffering further from the cancer and end his life. Well it doesn't happen. His trials and encounters on this journey were just bizarre and tortuous. He has flash backs to his military service days as well. I found it boring. Too boring to remember.
Some decent writing in this tale of woe. A reference to the heart...page203, .."in knowing the heart in this cold way, he had lost all innocence about it. It was not that he didn't believe in love, but first he was a scientist, a physician, and a man of reason. He'd manipulated the hearts of human beings and he thought he understood that when we speak of love, we speak of something transitory, something gone when we go. The heart for Ben was tangible, and nothing tangible remains."
This reference to sadness on page 206, "He felt removed from the world. Suffering suffused everything." Well I've felt sadness certainly the past year. But this book was a drag. Disappointment was what I felt reading this first edition, autographed by the author and published in 1999. It will be donated to our library book shelf or sale.
I created this blog to record our RV trips and ;morphed into life in our retirement lane and telling my tales of life. Now my tales of life are on widowhood, my new and probably my last phase of l I have migrated to Facebook where I communicate daily, instantly with family/friends all over. I write here sometimes. COPYWRIGHT NOTICE: All photos, stories, writings on this blog are the property of myself, Patricia Morrison and may not be used, copied, without my permission most often freely given.
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