I forget the exact event, but I got my copy of this at a book quiz in Cambridge a couple of years back.

~

I’ve tried to read this a couple of times, and it doesn’t stick with me. In discussing the author’s loneliness, it draws comparison to several famous artists, but I don’t know any of their work. (Or really, anything about them except that they’re artists.)

I think the problem is me, rather than the book – I was expecting something more like a traditional memoir, not art analysis.

I’m putting it back on my shelf, and maybe in a few years I’ll come back to it. I feel like I should enjoy this book, but I don’t yet.

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