Do you know how it is when you watch something excellent, such as Volohozhar and Trankov skating, and you can rest in the performance? You sit back, breathing peacefully, because you can trust what they’re going to do without making a mistake. This is how I feel in the hands of Herman Koch.
I am only on page 6 of The Dinner, and I am reading as slowly as possible because every line sparkles. Every page has a phrase which rings with truth for me.
“If I had to give a definition of happiness, it would be this: happiness needs nothing but itself; it doesn’t have to be validated.”
“I didn’t feel like going to the restaurant. I never do. A fixed appointment for the immediate future is the gates of hell; the actual evening is hell itself. It starts in front of the mirror in the morning: what you’re going to wear, and whether or not you’re going to shave.”
He has set the reader up perfectly, with a tension that is actually delicious, and I will be savoring a mug of Starbucks (my husband made a huge pot for breakfast with our scones) and my book all day.
More on The Dinner when it’s finished…