A review by inthecommonhours
The Hero of This Book, by Elizabeth McCracken
4.0
Despite being interrupted more while reading on vacation than I am at home (where I normally read when most are asleep, I suppose), I finally finished this little gem (it’s only 180 or so pages but it took me TWO DAYS).
It’s unfair to McCracken that I had just come from two exquisite novellas by Claire Keegan—my next read was going to feel sloppy in comparison to her tight prose, no matter what.
But once I understood what McCracken was doing here——writing a bit of a love letter to her larger than life (while actually very tiny) mother and playing with the forms of novel and memoir, with writing in general.
There were so many lines I loved and had to share with others immediately (“There is something wrong with a person who loved ballpoint pens. I believe nothing so deeply as this.”), though there were times I wondered if she succeeded with what she set out to do. I appreciated the walls tumbling down, her mention of her brother and children, and of course, every nod to her brilliant memoir, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination.
It’s unfair to McCracken that I had just come from two exquisite novellas by Claire Keegan—my next read was going to feel sloppy in comparison to her tight prose, no matter what.
But once I understood what McCracken was doing here——writing a bit of a love letter to her larger than life (while actually very tiny) mother and playing with the forms of novel and memoir, with writing in general.
There were so many lines I loved and had to share with others immediately (“There is something wrong with a person who loved ballpoint pens. I believe nothing so deeply as this.”), though there were times I wondered if she succeeded with what she set out to do. I appreciated the walls tumbling down, her mention of her brother and children, and of course, every nod to her brilliant memoir, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination.