That’s me. I’m always fine, until I’m not.

So, if you want to read like one book this year, trust me and make it The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall. I’ve been ranting about The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas and I could have been ranting about how I still don’t really get Anna Gavalda’s books (although Ensemble, C’est Tout was an improvement over her short stories and I’m pretty sure that it’s not just because I read the damn things in French) or how The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters was Jonathan Strange all over again, in the way that I liked the book theoretically, but wasn’t so sure about how I felt about it in practice, or how I thought that The Road was just a tiny bit overrated. But only a tiny bit, because, it is good, only I think it never helps if a book gets all that praise because you have these high expectations and from that moment on most any book is pretty much doomed to disappoint on one end or the other. Plus, I must thank Mr. McCarthy for coming up with the sentence „If only my heart were stone“ which I took the liberty to use for a song.

Anyway, back to The Raw Shark Texts which, yep, I had high expectations for also, but wasn’t disappointed in the least. It’s an amazing read ride, like if Neil Gaiman, Jasper Fforde, Jonathan Safran Foer and China Miéville kind of got together and said, hey, how about we make a child and name it Steven Hall. I loved every single word of it. Even the ones I couldn’t quite read.

So, here are some reasons why it’s as great as it is:

„If you want your boomerang to come back, first you’ve got to throw it.“
„But. What if I want to keep my boomerang and not – lose it down a big dark hole?“
„The throwing and the coming back is the boomerang, brainstrain. Without that part, you’re just carrying a bent stick around.“

I laughed, a proper laugh this time. „I’m glad you’re here.“
„I do my best.“
„You’re just fine with all this, aren’t you?“
„That’s me. I’m always fine, until I’m not.“