I will quote a passage from a BULK novel I am reading.
Just two sentences. Read on.
From that day on or that night on, not a week went by without the four of them calling back and forth regularly, sometimes at the oddest hours, without a though for the phone bill. Sometimes. it was Liz Norton who would call Espinoza and ask about Morini, whom she’d talk to the day before and whom she’d thought seemed a little depressed. That same day Espinoza would call Pelletier and inform him that according to Norton, Morini’s health had taken a turn for the worse, to which Pelletier would respond by immediately calling Morini, asking him bluntly how he was, laughing with him (because Morini did his best never to talk seriously about his condition), exchanging a few unimportant remarks about work, and later telephoning Norton, maybe at midnight, after putting off the pleasure of the call with a frugal and exquisite dinner, and assuring her that as far as could be hoped, Morini was fine, normal, stable, and what Norton had taken for depression was just the Italian’s natural state, sensitive as he was to changes in the weather (maybe the weather had been bad in Turin, maybe Morini had dreamed who knows what kind of horrible dream the night before), thus ending a cycle that would begin again a day later, or two days later, with Morini calling Espinoza for no reason, just to say hello, that was all, to talk for a while, the call invariable taken up with unimportant things, remarks about the weather (as if Morini and even Espinoza were adopting British conversational habits), film recommendations, dispassionate commentarry on recent books, in short, a generally soporific or at best listless hone conversation, but one that Espinoza followed with off enthusiasm, or feigned enthusiasm, or fondness, or at least civilized interest, and that Morini attended to as if his life depended on it, and which was succeeded two days or a few hours later by Espinoza calling Norton and having a conversation along essentially the same lines, and Norton calling Pelletier, and Pelletier calling Morini with the whole process starting over again days later, the call transmuted into hyperspecialized code, signifier and signified in Archimboldi, text, subtext, and paratext, reconquest of the verbal and physical territoriality in the final pages of Bitzius, which under the curcumstances was the same as talking about film or problems in the German department or the clouds that passed over their respective cities, morning to night.
I first heard about the author from my boss. I did a short review of his latest book then, only from reading other reviews, not really reading the novel. I thought he was more into criminal novel or science fiction. But we’ll see, once we finish this 898-page piece. hehehe *grin. Yeah, it’s thick. Maybe I picked up the book as I thought Murakami’s 1Q84 was…. ehm… too expensive (but as thick). But so far, I like it. Don’t you just love when you find something that suits you? Realizing that this is gonna be the one that puts a great deal of influence on your style, or anything. Read this if you would like a concise review of this one of the best books in 2008.