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A review by smashful
The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell
4.0
"But it was my body. It was my blood," he said, choking with fury. "And it was my love."
Seduced and ravished by God...sometimes Russell's storytelling took my breath away. Other times I wanted a little more mysticism—a little more blood—I didn't want elegant euphemisms or to be told how to feel about whatever new atrocity God visited upon the party of the Stella Maris. It's almost too much meaning-making; leave us, like Sandoz, in the muck of purposelessness and chaos and bland moronic suffering. For a little while at least. "Make us understand".
(And I deduct points for the constantly, interminably witty dialogue. These guys are exhausted and injured and frightened and traumatized by turns, they don't need to elegantly back-and-forth with each other about it.)
Seduced and ravished by God...sometimes Russell's storytelling took my breath away. Other times I wanted a little more mysticism—a little more blood—I didn't want elegant euphemisms or to be told how to feel about whatever new atrocity God visited upon the party of the Stella Maris. It's almost too much meaning-making; leave us, like Sandoz, in the muck of purposelessness and chaos and bland moronic suffering. For a little while at least. "Make us understand".
(And I deduct points for the constantly, interminably witty dialogue. These guys are exhausted and injured and frightened and traumatized by turns, they don't need to elegantly back-and-forth with each other about it.)