Nedēļas nogalē beidzot biju iegriezies pie vecākiem. Pirms doties gulēt, iedomājos, ka varētu palasīt literatūru. Lūk, un tad sākās.. Parakņājos pa grāmatu plauktiem un atradu Peter Carey grāmatu My life as a fake. Šķita, ka pēc dažām lpp. to nolikšu malā un aizmigšu, bet tā vietā aizlasījos līdz 5AM. No rīta, kad pamodos, sāku lasīt pirms vēl pirmās kafijas (manā gadījumā - kaut kas teju vai neiedomājams.). Īsāk sakot, grāmatas vērtējums izklaides skalā 4.5/5.
I'm sorry, but I just could not finish this book (something I haven't done in probably ten years), so maybe it's not fair that I'm offering an opinion. In any case, after the first 100 or so pages, I found that I did not care a bit about any of the characters and I found the protagonist to be particularly unlikable. Maybe if you are really interested in poetry and poets, the developing intrigue may interest you, but I'm not, so it didn't.
I'm sorry, but I just could not finish this book (something I haven't done in probably ten years), so maybe it's not fair that I'm offering an opinion. In any case, after the first 100 or so pages, I found that I did not care a bit about any of the characters and I found the protagonist to be particularly unlikable. Maybe if you are really interested in poetry and poets, the developing intrigue may interest you, but I'm not, so it didn't.
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