"Everything is biographical", Lucian Freud says. What we make, why it is made, how we draw a dog, who it is we are drawn to, whe we cannot forget. Everything is collage, even genetics. There is a hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross.Ondaatje is a wonderful writer who can craft evocative, emotional, and poetic phrases in his prose. This book, however, didn't work for me on the whole. It has moments that made me smile and pause to appreciate the beautiful way the author describes a thought, emotion, or a compelling metaphor.
The book is two separate stories. The first one is interesting for those of us who live in Northern California. It starts on a ranch in Petaluma which I pass through several times a week and includes a radio station in Nevada City, KVMR, which I often enjoyed. The story is emotion packed, wild, and violent. It ends abruptly leaving me unsatisfied. The second part of the book is entirely different set in a different time and place. Try as I did, the latter part of the book never grabbed me and the interweaving of the two stories never really worked to arrive at a satisfying conclusion.
I began reading this book excited to be reading a great book, but by the time I got to the last third, I found myself having to force my way to the end.



















. The author is often remarkable, such as when he writes: "...talking about geography and the peculiar way in which a new place is unable to resist the power of one's imagination-- there is too little reality gathered there-- which makes it malleable and transporting like a dream or a thin-skinned fantasy that both enchants and is completely misleading to the traveler, who falls in love with it and stays, only to discover that every place is real, its intransigent bulk hidden, the airy island drift of its first appearance an illusion, and that unless he keeps moving he is trapped in a world of stubborn realities, of actual places."







