A review by bojangacic
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann

5.0

The fact that my laptop won't fully recharge, seems to have plateaued at 80%, not that it affects my life, still it would be assuring to see something working at full capacity, especially in this time, the fact that it's Day 32 of quarantine, my mind wanders, quibbles, ricocheting off info galore, virus, pandemic, epidemic, tests, no tests, respirators, peak infection, upward curve, restrictions, upcoming weeks, isolation, sweat beads running down official's foreheads, the fact that maybe that's what life is all about, chasing that 20% if we're fortunate enough, Jazz Radio, Nat King Cole, L is for the way you look at me, miniature schnauzer, the fact that we are going through an unprecedented crisis of intelect, pandemic aside, people unable to process their thoughts, parents unnerved by the constant presence of their own children, small spaces, domestic abuse, taut, friction, miscommunication, the fact that Ducks, Newburyport is a magnum opus of the modern mind, yours and mine, our, ours, bombarded with information, often hectic, in need of organising, categorising, compartmentalising, optimising, the fact a 1000 page run-on sentence is a daunting prospect, rather subscribe to a new streaming service, rather rewatch episodes I can quote in entirety, yes, they were on a break, we get it, Miles Davis, It Never Entered my Mind, the fact that the writing does get repetitive, thoughts tend to be repetitive, nevertheless, it's a monumental dissertation on the contemporary mental dynamic, the fact that you don't need to understand every nuance, obscurity is part of the appeal, but it is a mental work-out, reading this book, many won't be ready to comit, the fact that the MAN Booker Prize panel seems to have exhausted its capacity to award "thick" books with The Luminaries, being shortlisted doesn't project the same public image as winning, loser, tremendous, the fact we watch too much and read too little, a plot of the mind left unattended, Sinatra is singing on different stage and ours is brimming with one-hit wonders, 24-hour news cycles, politicians clinging to a podium with the tenacity once reserved for mother's teet, douchebag in situ, the fact that Ducks, Newburyport merits the readers' time and effort, just start reading it, you'll see it's not intimidating at all, kudos to Lucy Ellmann and her publishers for demanding of us to think in a time when we are too often encouraged not to.