I managed to get through "Milkman," by Anna Burns, which I originally had high hopes for. I will explain in a minute, but let me start by saying that, upon completion, I looked up what "The New York Times" said about it, curious, as it did not end up on any of their book lists.
The critic said the novel was "interminable," and he would not recommend it to anyone he liked.
There were times when I felt it was interminable. And I would not go out of my way to recommend it to anyone. But, if the critic had just come off, as I had, after reading the latest Murakami, he would have found "Milkman" a bit more tolerable.
The problem is not the content, but how it is presented. "Milkman" is the autobiographical narrative of a young girl in Northern Ireland, her typically oversized family, and relationship with siblings, coupled with a mystery, metaphor and murder surrounding the title character, who takes a somewhat creepy interest in the narrator. Later, the reader learns why.
All of this has merit. And the angry insights into Irish culture--religious, tending not to stand out, marry quickly and have children, which is all that can be looked forward to--are drawn with both skepticism and anger. Being of Irish descent myself, believe me, I get it.
The problem is the author presents this in the most pretentious way possible, wanting to come across as a cross between James Joyce, and Samuel Beckett. "Milkman" is essentially one long, rambling, densely worded monologue by the narrator, where paragraphs go on for pages at a time, and dialogue is smooshed within. It is densely worded, and although only 352 pages, feels as though one is reading twice that much. Things speed up a little near the end, as the mystery unravels, but only my dedication to literature could keep me going with this.
After my experience with "The Times," I was curious to see what "Milkman" had beaten out. Oh, my God, a thoroughly better group of works than it turned out to be--
"Washington Black," by Esi Edugyan, "Everything Under," by Daisy Johnson, "The Mars Room," by Rachel Kushner, and "The Overstory," by Richard Powers. The first three I have read; "Washington Black" was second place for my Book Of The Year, and, having been disappointed by Kushner's "The Flame Throwers," I was, surprisingly, blown away by "The Mars Room." And "The Overstory," because I love Richard Powers, has been on my radar for awhile.
And then "Milkman" wins? I guess the judges care more about gimmickry and technique than true literary quality. Naming this book a Booker winner is on a par with "The New York Times" putting "The Perfect Nanny" on their Ten Best List.
Girls, I am telling you, right now, skip "Milkman."
Because, I guarantee you, if you try to get through it, most will cancel delivery, before reaching the half way point!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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