Random House Vintage, 1997.
My thought is that that is because the book, while good, isn't brilliant. I guess, after having my thoughts meander, what I am concluding is that The Reader is competent and that it does provokes some thought on the nature of duty and obligation and how they are as easily instruments of evil as they are of good. And the 'issue' of the sexual relationship between the older woman and the older boy was reasonably well written, as was its effect on his adult life. Reasonably well written, but it did not sing the body electric.
I finished The Reader the other day. I began it about 10 days ago, and I enjoyed it, but it wasn't a great book. Good, and that's about it. The praises on the cover were at best overblown, at worst histrionic. (And it further confirmed my opinion that Oprah seems to like mostly good, but not truly great, books.)
When I'd finished the read I set aside the book without any additional thought. But by accident I discovered that an e.friend was reading it, and she had exactly the same reaction. And then I remembered that the friend who'd lent The Reader to me, had had the exact same reaction — 'It was okay,' he'd said with a somewhat dismissive shrug and dragged out emphasis on 'okay.'
And it was — is —okay. Reading it wasn't a waste my life, but didn't significantly affect it either.
To my surprise, the movie was in some ways superior to the book. Note, I saw the movie first, and so that may engender bias. However, normally I enjoy books far more than the movie covers because moving pictures do not convey, usually, complexity of thought, personality or feeling as vibrantly as can well-written words. However, my hat's off to Kate Winslet and the team behind the movie, because it actually surpassed what the book was able to convey.
☆☆☆
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