Nancy Huston's Fault Lines
Blerg. This book started off on a terrible note, being narrated by a precocious asshole of a six-year-old (writers trying to create inner oices for precocious children never succeed and just piss me off). Then the story is narrated in turn by six-year-old versions of his father, grandmother, and great-grandmother (who are all at least more likable). Family secrets emerge, blah blah, this book wasn't good at all. I don't care what prizes it won. C.
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