This is a quick post for book lovers, because only book lovers know the feeling I have right now: a feeling of contented exhaustion after finishing a great novel.
As usual, I am late to the party. The Blind Assassin was published 26 years ago, but it was new to me, and I had no idea what to expected when I opened to page one; maybe something about a professional assassin? Maybe some secret agent man shit going on?
Nope, not at all. Essentially this was a novel within a novel with three different, yet interwoven stories twisting around each other.
I admit I had the thing figured out about 3/4 of the way through, or at least I thought I did, but then the last 125 pages had me second-guessing myself. Awesome storytelling.
Margaret Atwood turned 86 years old last November and she now has a brand new fan. Hey, it is better late than never!
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