The Syntax of Things Weather Center has been put on full alert as Tropical Storm Ernesto slowly makes its northern trek toward Raleigh. So far, Ernesto, known as Ernie in polite circles, has been quite the dud as far as tropical systems are concerned. In fact, he has been so weak that the folks at the Hemingway home in Key West will not even name one of the inbred cats after him, an honor previously bestowed on hurricanes Charley, Ivan, and Frances. Still, because I am a certified weather spotter whose talents have yet to be taken advantage of by the National Weather System, I will monitor the system carefully if for no other reason than the fact that I'm addicted to isobars.
On a somewhat unrelated note, I have a question for all of you. At what point do you give up on a book? I'm always reluctant to put one down after starting it but I do reach points when the book just isn't resonating when I ask myself this question. For instance, I'm reading one now, a book that has been getting a lot of press for various reasons and for the most part has received positive reviews, but I'm finding that it just doesn't do anything for me. It seems the writer is more interested in being clever than telling the damn story. I don't mind cleverness, sometimes even relish it and want it, but for my money (and time) I need the 'writerliness' to eventually become background and the story to emerge from within that framework. This writer is trying to do that but just when I think she's about to go somewhere with the story, I'm once again overwhelmed by the attempts at what seems to be a writer out to prove something. Maybe it's just me. And perhaps I bought into the hype and was expecting something more. And there's even a good chance that this could be a situational thing where if I'd read this novel in a vacuum I might enjoy it. Sadly, though, my time is limited, therefore I need to move on. So why do I feel like I'm leaving a child at the side of the road?