Not So Much

I'm a little discouraged to read reviews of Paul Harding's novel Tinkers that use words like "brilliant," "heartbreaking," and "remarkable," because I did not find it any of those things.

Told from a deathbed viewpoint, this novel revolves back in time as George remembers his childhood. It's a confusion of past and present, with small events looming large and perspective shifting. Because George has been a restorer of clocks and delighted in their precision, the elasticity of his remaining time on earth is particularly poignant.

Even so, George's memories are more difficult than engaging. His father suffered from epilepsy and seizure episodes provide the main drama of the book, which is otherwise sparse, perhaps in keeping with its impoverished Maine setting. A few sections describe the natural world in lyrical, almost hallucinatory terms, but the tone is otherwise taciturn. The cover illustration -- with its white-out conditions -- is perfect for the novel within.     

Ultimately I failed to connect with George or with any of the other characters, making this a book to be achieved, not enjoyed.     

Excerpt:

Clocks are all stopped, he croaked to his grandson.
Nana said it would drive you mad.
. . .
Drive me mad nothing, he said. Get up and wind them. And so the young person, whose name he could not recall, moved from clock to clock and wound each one.
But not the striking trains, the young person said. It'd be too loud; we'd raise hell if all these things struck; Nana would kill us.
George said, Okay, okay, and the blood in his veins and the breath in his chest seemed to go easier as he heard the ratchet and click of the springs being wound and the rising chorus of clocks, which did not seem to him to tick but to breathe and to give one another comfort by merely being in one another's presence, like a gathering of people at a church dinner or at a slide show held in the local library.

Note: This book counts for the Mount TBR Reading Challenge and the Color Coded Reading Challenge.