Independence Day: A Novel

Rating:
Summary: Zzzzzz...
Review: I tried with this one too, I really did, but I couldn't get through the first one hundred pages of this book for the life of me. After two different tries I must say that this is the most boring novel I have ever read, and that's a difficult thing for me to say. I have always been able to hold my own with literature, past and present. I waded through "War and Peace" with relative ease. I LOVED the heavily-interior "The Scarlet Letter" and other older, canonical works, but this one didn't have anything interesting whatsoever in it. Only invest your time in something you could get insight, entertainment and pleasure from, not this 450-page snoozefest.

Rating:
Summary: The Art of Being O.K.
Review: In Independence Day, Richard Ford chronicles with consummateskill a few days in the life of a New Jersey sportswriterturned real estate agent, Frank Bascombe. With keen observations, outstanding descriptive power and dialogue more real than "The Real World," Ford pulls the strings of this great book masterfully. Frank is in the midst of what he calls "The Existence Period," a time when he has come to terms with his life to date and moved on to the more uncharted waters of vaguely contented middle-agedom. He has arrived at a crossroads where he has plenty of past but still a lot of future left ahead. The novel's narrative flows like life itself - forward, back, sideways - in a way that is so natural and consuming that you would swear the character is you and his thoughts are yours. There is not a book that I have read that does better justice to the realities of being human and adult in today's world. At its heart, Independence Day is the recording of two worlds- the one we sense through our bodies and the one that exists in our heads - and how these two interact in a way that is sometimes painful, sometimes beautiful, and most times just O.K. To read it is to see yourself, and in many ways, all of us. A must.

Rating:
Summary: Who cares?
Review: Not only did I not care about any of the characters or what happend to them, but I can't even imagine how anyone else could, especially nominators of the Pulizter Prize. I don't get it. I didn't care about Frank's little narrow life with his pretentious tone. He was insincere with everyone he related to. He fit the realtor stereotype quite well (nothing against realtors). His son was a typical weird 15 year old with no depth to him. His daughter was contrived and Frank didn't seem to really care much about her--though he tried to make it seem he did (same with his son, for that matter). Cliche plot with predictable, shallow characters. Blech.