My book group recently read The Sea by Irish novelist John Banville. All seven of us were disappointed.
Its first-person narrator is an unlikable, self-absorbed misanthrope who recently lost his wife but is more focused on a 50-years-ago loss. He spends his days ruminating about the past but not learning from it. I felt indifferent to his fate.
Especially frustrating for me was the excess of multisyllabic unfamiliar words. I asked our group, “Why do you suppose he always chose a big word instead of a small one?” “To show off,” someone said, and nobody disagreed.
I don’t like novels that seem to have no point except to flaunt how well the author can write.