I've been reading this book, "The Inheritance of Loss" by Kiran Desai, for like, oh I don't know, maybe a year now. That is NOT typical for me. I have a habit of reading several books at the same time, but I still always finish them in two weeks - at most. This one, not so much. I think I figured out last night that I have like 100 pages left. It's going to be a struggle to finish this book, and yet I refuse to give up (that trait needs to be a post all by itself). Holding the book in my hand and reading the review from Publisher's Weekly made it sound so promising: "In this alternately comical and contemplative novel, Desai deftly shuttles between first and third worlds, illuminating the pain of exile, the ambiguities of post-colonialism and the blinding desire for a "better life," when one person's wealth means another's poverty." I mean, that sounds really interesting, right? And I read her first novel "Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard" and loved it. Surely, I would love this book too.

But then I opened it up and knew, from the first chapter, that it was going to be a difficult book. Picking it up and then putting it down for months at a time has not helped my understanding of the story. I think there are cultural implications that I just can't wrap my brain around. But I'm to the point now that I don't care if I've understood it (which I haven't); I just want to say I finished it. It feels kind of like when I was in high school drama class and my partner and I had to write a play and we goofed off until like seconds before it was due and then my partner started getting all picky and ridiculous and I had to keep reminding him, "Not good, but done. That's all we're looking for. A "D" for crap is still better than an "F" for nothing."

Wow. After that analogy, I want to finish this book even LESS than before.