To great public shame and personal consternation, I’ve decided to punt The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy back to the TBR for a future me. DNF, know what I mean? Literary bankruptcy. I just couldn’t go on.
There are elements of the book I loved. It’s actually hilarious, but somehow also brain-bleedingly tedious. My gripe emerges from the very structure of the book: Here’s a man’s life story, ostensibly, but the narrative is a long train of comedic digressions, an elaborate exercise in not getting to the point. Whatever my virtues, I’m not that patient.
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