The Imperfectionists

I mentioned in another post that sometimes I like to give myself some time before reviewing a book. I wasn't always this way. In my blog's previous life I tried to post my review immediately, hoping to document my point of view before I grew tainted by the reviews of others. But I've found that some books need to age, and that sometimes my initial reaction doesn't accurately describe how I feel about the book.

A few days ago I finished The Imperfectionists, by Tom Rachman. This book features not one overall story, but rather a series of short stories involving characters connected to a foreign English language newspaper. The stories are connected, as the characters are all connected to one another, but each one works as a stand alone.

If I had to think of a way to describe this book, it would be disillusionment. Each character faces their own example of disillusionment. In the final segment, I feel that the one most disillusioned was myself. More than the other dark stories, that one shattered my faith in the characters. In the world Rachman created.

I think my favorite story was an earlier piece, about an older gentleman and his boyhood friend. He thinks the world of his boyhood friend, and expects great things from him. He still idealizes the friend, using the rose colored glasses that only our oldest friends wear.

Why disillusionment, I wonder. Is it reflective of the life of a journalist? One who goes into the business because of a love of news, only to discover how unstable a business it is these days? Or, is the theme of disillusionment more personal? Is it simply the disillusionment we all face at a certain point in our lives? Is it inevitable for something to shake us to our core?

Unlike critics, I'm not sure that I'll be rereading this. Not because I disliked it - it was very well done - but rather because parts are a bit too painful, and Rachman's gift is that he can bring the pain to life.

Needless to say, I followed this book up with latest offering in Vampire romance, and have next to me what appears to be the epitome of a summer read. Only time will tell.