I’m giving up on Last Drinks
Well, this tends to happen quite a bit. I start reading a novel, finding it fairly interesting at first, but then my interest tapers off dramatically. It’s interesting that I should struggle with McGahan’s Last Drinks, because I found the subject matter (corruption in 1980s Queensland and its aftermath) quite compelling. How is it that Praise and 1988 could be so gripping and this novel so easy to put down? I haven’t got an answer for this. Last Drinks seems like a transitional novel, by a writer learning how to write about something other than himself. It’s clunky and slow in places. And I’m pulling the pin.
Onto The White Earth.