Vacation book #2

Now that I'm back in real life, I don't have any "book" by the side of my bed other than an old issue of the New Yorker. But I'm happy to say that all of my vacation books were so good and so different from each other that I'm still reliving them all.

The second book I read from cover to cover while lounging on my pool-side chair was Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. The whole reason why I picked up this book had to do with an article about Petterson that appeared in another issue of the New Yorker within the last year. In the piece, the writer's various works were reviewed and/ or summarized and Out Stealing Horses rose the top of the list as the book to try. It did not disappoint. The writing is masterful - or maybe the translation was masterful, or both. Petterson is Norwegian and seems to fit within a certain somber genre. Without trying to give anything away, the protagonist is a 67-year old man who has finally become comfortable with being himself in a way that makes him fear being old but at the same time he also realizes that he could be living for many decades more. He reconciles a childhood loss, while at the same time moving forward and understanding who he is. It's intelligent, thoughtful, and all about coming home.