Currently reading: Avenue of Mysteries by John Irving 📚

Woke up super early - it’s a million degrees (in Boston, in May, we’re cooked) - brewed some coffee and read. Chapter 25 (Act 5, Scene 3) absolutely wrecked me. I cried from beginning to end, even though everything was foreshadowed quite clearly. But even more incredibly, Irving pulls off a very neat trick by showing you how he’s doing it by having the protagonist, a writer, explain the very techniques Irving is using while he’s using them. Yet somehow, this doesn’t detract from the emotional impact at all, and even enhances it.

This probably seems very vague, but it would be criminal to spoil this book for anyone, so I’ll just leave it at that. What a wonderful book, and shame on me for spending so long in the speculative fiction grotto that I missed books like this along the way.