I finished The City of Falling Angels over the weekend. It was aight. With a love for Italy and a love for Berendt's last book, anticipation was running high. It was satisfying to start, but lost its steam. In the same style as Midnight, he centers his slice of life stories around a central crime, in this case, the fire at the Fenice Opera House. Trouble is, there's very little drama surrounding it. It's more about politics and unions and scapegoats and money. If that's your thing, fine, but how about some gay hookers with questionable motives or maybe an over the top drag queen? I know, I shouldn't want the same thing over again, but even when it was so good the first time?
Note: The church pictured is the Santa Maria dei Miracoli, the restoration of which figures prominently in the book. Pretty, no?
At Bodhi's urging, and Oprah's I guess, I'm now reading A Million Little Pieces. I'm about 100 pages in. Harrowing shit.