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I picked up John Irving’s Until I Find You in Ithaca right after Thanksgiving and dove in on the flight home a few days later, just finishing last night.
If the jacket notes had let on that it was such a father-son story, I probably would have avoided it for awhile. I might have even stopped reading if I’d had a clue of where it was going, but the ending is one of those brilliant ones that both sneaks up on you and is, in retrospect, inevitable. Warm and satisfying. (But I cried for 20 minutes after finishing.)
| << Hair care or digital audio? | 2006 > December | Home, sweet... <pop> >> |
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