A review by justin_zigenis
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann

5.0

Me oh my! The fact that this book was passed up for the Handmaid’s Tale sequel to win the Booker Prize is unbelievable, unthinkable, undrinkable water, underwear, bullshit, the fact that those judges have to read so many books they probably didn’t have time to finish it anyway, the fact that who am I to judge them, prizes, money, “what America’s all about,” the fact that Americans rarely win the Booker Prize anyway, so, but is Margaret Atwood an American? Oh wait...Canadian! The fact that, regarding her writing style, Lucy Ellmann not Margaret Atwood, in an interview she said she was simply trying to write as close to the way she thinks the mind works, and dammit, but I shouldn’t curse, I think she did it! The fact that this book was as much entertainment as it was a meditation for me, and that’s why I dragged on so long reading it, to savor the meditative experience it; the fact that the interviewer asked if she hates men...but she speaks so kindly of her husband, Leo, that I can’t understand where he came up with the question, rapists, mass shootings, guns and Donald Trump, yes, but not men; stupid question, stupid Booker Prize, stupid 2020, stupid virus, stupid social media, man hater, pussy grabber, echo chamber, stupid Facebook, stupid Twitter, stupid quarantine, the fact that why do mature adults not understand what social media is doing to this country? Why can’t they just verbalize their political opinions, communicate, and ignore all the memes, maturity, modernity, grandparents mothers, fathers, extended family...go read a book! Read this book.