A Doubter's Almanac by Ethan Canin
Milo Andret is a sorry human being. He didn't start out that way, growing up in the woods of Michigan with his quietly intelligent parents. But once he hit Berkeley and fell in love, his unraveling unfolded like a cat playing with the first loose fiber of a commercial carpet.
Milo did have success in mathematics (he can't bring himself to say math). But he could never fool himself into believing it was enough. He railed on about how important his work was, but he never felt it had intrinsic value aside from the flow he could find himself in while he was doing it. And even that he would spit on. He was tortured and miserable, and he used his work as an excuse for his poor behavior. He drowned himself in alcohol. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't drag people into his wreckage, but of course he couldn't help himself. Women provided an escape, and they flattered his ego. His two children were a byproduct of his failed attempt to save himself.
I read over five hundred pages about this guy in the course of a week. Why? Because Ethan Canin still bothers to write compelling literature in an age where people are obsessed with reality shows and the Kardashians. He also took on a wildly complicated academic endeavor that featured an allegedly brilliant man, and rather than sit by in awe of his character's intelligence, he dove in and gave a view from the inside of what it is to be that way.
I am deeply appreciative of this book because it felt like coming home. It's a culmination of things that I do not often get to share with another: a complex family life, an unfounded worship of education, and a wide-eyed curiosity about the world that clashes with the egotistical need for academic success.
The life of Milo Andret spanned the US, and both the city and the country. He was everywhere and nowhere; a horrible sack of shit whose legacy will somehow be bright. Who can make sense of life?
General consensus: If you are a longtime fan of literature, you cannot miss this.
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