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A review by wmhenrymorris
Prague by Arthur Phillips
Part of being an LDS missionary serving in Romanian in 1992/1993 was the feeling that
a) you were missing out by not being in Budapest (or in Prague)
b) you were missing out on not being able to leverage your American exoticism and energy for some sort of vague gain and fun
c) you were superior to the expats and the tourists because you spoke near fluent Romanian and met hundreds of the locals in there own homes, and, with many of them, learn their stories
d) you were building something more interesting, lasting and useful and care more about the people than the buzzing expats
I'm not entirely sure what it means that this novel confirms a, b, c and d. I recommend it to Gen Xers that aren't yet sick of playing around with irony. No else should really bother.
a) you were missing out by not being in Budapest (or in Prague)
b) you were missing out on not being able to leverage your American exoticism and energy for some sort of vague gain and fun
c) you were superior to the expats and the tourists because you spoke near fluent Romanian and met hundreds of the locals in there own homes, and, with many of them, learn their stories
d) you were building something more interesting, lasting and useful and care more about the people than the buzzing expats
I'm not entirely sure what it means that this novel confirms a, b, c and d. I recommend it to Gen Xers that aren't yet sick of playing around with irony. No else should really bother.