I'm writing this book up over three months after I finished reading it.
It did not stick with me the way that many other books that I've read have, and therefore I think I may have missed some of the beauty or art inherent in the author's creation. For some reason it simply did not resonate with me.
It also may have been the setting in which I read the book, often while falling asleep. I used it to separate myself from the pressures of my day and allow my mind to settle before sleep each night.
The incest that occurs near the end of the book surprised me, and left me thinking more about how so many cultures have developed taboos against incest. The actual level of inbreeding necessary to perpetuate genetic abnormalities is pretty high, needing to "self-cross" multiple generations sequentially. How did we develop such an aversion?
It did not stick with me the way that many other books that I've read have, and therefore I think I may have missed some of the beauty or art inherent in the author's creation. For some reason it simply did not resonate with me.
It also may have been the setting in which I read the book, often while falling asleep. I used it to separate myself from the pressures of my day and allow my mind to settle before sleep each night.
The incest that occurs near the end of the book surprised me, and left me thinking more about how so many cultures have developed taboos against incest. The actual level of inbreeding necessary to perpetuate genetic abnormalities is pretty high, needing to "self-cross" multiple generations sequentially. How did we develop such an aversion?
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