Candi's Reviews > The Sentence

To my dear Goodreads friends that adored this book, I apologize for having to sit out this particular dance. It’s not that I loathed it; I just didn’t feel particularly moved by it. I didn’t want to get out of my chair and let loose. The rhythm threw me off quite often, and the character of the tune was just too angular for my taste. I prefer something a bit more lyrical. The two biggest problems that created such dissonance for me: a ghost and a pandemic.

“Flora died on the second of November, All Souls’ Day, when the fabric between the worlds is thin as tissue and easily torn. Since then, she has been here every morning.”

A ghost haunting a bookstore is rather alluring to this reader, in theory. But in practice, I just couldn’t buy it. Not that I’m opposed to ghost stories (see my review of Rebecca if you don’t believe me!). I like my ghosts a bit more subtle, and Flora was too over the top for me - as was the main character, Tookie. After finishing the book, I have no real good picture of this Ojibwe woman who had been imprisoned, released early, and who then sought refuge as an employee of a bookstore. Perhaps my imagination is failing me these days, but I had a better impression of some of her coworkers than I did of Tookie herself. But, I have to admit that I was absolutely on board with the interactions between the store employees as well as Tookie’s passion for books and reading. Who wouldn’t be?!

“Alone, I had to get out of my surroundings the way I used to in prison. There, I had learned to read with a force that resembled insanity. Once free, I found that I could not read just any book. It had gotten so I could see through books—the little ruses, the hooks, the setup in the beginning, the looming weight of a tragic ending, the way at the last page the author could whisk out the carpet of sorrow and restore a favorite character. I needed the writing to have a certain mineral density. It had to feel naturally meant, but not cynically contrived. I grew to dislike manipulations.”

This story takes place in contemporary Minneapolis. And yes, the pandemic did in fact come to town, just as it paid a visit to every other corner of the globe. This is where the real trouble began for me personally. I’ve worked in the public sector throughout. I have been fortunate to have been working not just with people but with books, too. The books were a lot easier to get along with during the pandemic. The people… well, I’m sure you can guess that this was a mixed bag. I simply was not ready to read about it yet. It’s just too fresh in my mind. In three weeks, a vote will be made regarding a significant expansion to our library. Some of the ugly heads are rearing themselves once again in protest. This time the issue is taxes, but the rude behavior is not all that different to that seen during the previous two years. What I’m trying to say in too many words is that the timing was simply cursed on my part.

“The things people did to one another and to themselves wore him down.”

I’m sure it’s obvious that this is a case of “it’s not you, it’s me”. Please read some other reviews. Louise Erdrich has an important story to tell, and many people will take away a whole lot more than I did. The writing is always competent. I like her stories best when I learn something about indigenous identity and history as well as the natural world. Needless to say, with the novel being set in the author’s own real-life bookstore, Birchbark Books, I’m inclined to pay a visit next time I find myself in the Midwest.

“As it turned out, books were important, like food, fuel, heat, garbage collection, snow shoveling, and booze.”