I understand why I'm supposed to like this critically-acclaimed-auctioned-for-more-than-half-a-million-bucks book, but increasingly, I question the people who decide what literary works are worthy. I'm tired of stories about white men. I'm tired of white male authors. These stories, including this one, are stale and exhausting.
Here, all the characters felt like caricatures. The Mexican ballplayer is Mexican because he occasionally says, "abuelo" and the Jewish ballplayer is Jewish because he sometimes grunts, "Israel!" And the women? The way they were written made me wonder if the author has ever actually met a human woman in his life. They're beyond manic pixie dream girls- just tragic sex objects who exist to delight or frustrate the men.
Yawn. We've got a problem with literary fiction. We treat it like it's the only valid form of fiction writing, and we only celebrate the white guys who write it. But most of the time it's not even good. It's sloppy two-dimensional prose we've decided is genius.