I used to enjoy stories about nihilistic, mundane characters, such as Holden Caulfield or William Stoner. Turns out, I still do! Istvan is the latest in that archetype for me, bouncing chaotically between affair and violence, never quite seeming to settle into a comfortable life. Even the moments where things do seem to be going right, there is always an atmosphere of unease. For a mostly bleak story, however, the pacing was incredibly quick, as so much narrative was told in rapid dialogue. There were bright spots, though. For one, the love Istvan felt for his wife was truly evident, even if his response to her fate was not handled well. The other was that Istvan's mother weaves her way throughout his life in ways that mostly went unnoticed by me, until the end. Of course that resonated with me, to the point that I went back and re-read the opening few paragraphs immediately after finishing. That Istvan was able to forge those two deep emotional connections amidst an otherwise gray existence was beautiful, inspiring, and, honestly, life-like. This was possibly my favorite ever Booker winner, though I would have to reconsider Shuggie Bain.
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