There is only one conclusion that I can come to after reading this book once, and attempting to run through it a second time. That conclusion is…I’m not smart enough to understand what the author is saying. It’s not the language, the language isn’t that complicated. The book isn’t written in academic double speak or a foreign tongue. No, it’s written in plain English with an occasional Icelandic word thrown in for cultural reference and to support the claim of the title.

It’s the blocks of prose poetry text that throws me. When I try to write in this style reviewers say things like “I need more context.” or the kinder,”What the bleep are you trying to say?” My imitations of enigmatic prose fall flat and I need a fully fleshed imitation by Wednesday.

I should change my approach to this book. What the bleep is the author trying to say? What the bleep was a film about alternate realities and string theory and universes in grains of sand. I need to change my lens, or my filter, or my camera, something is out of focus and I’m waiting for an epiphany that doesn’t come at least not in a recognizable form.

Try the book for yourself. Maybe you’ll have a mind blowing experience and can explain it to me. In the meantime I’ll try one more run and hope for better light or a better camera.

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