One down, another to start.
Pivoting off of my post about West Virginia, I decided to next pick up Empire Falls by Richard Russo. The book is set in a rural Maine mill town, whose glory days are long behind it, and whose primary benefactor is a few years past her expiration date.
I've only been to Maine once, to go visit Moosehead Lake with a friend and his family back in the summer of 2011. I remember it being one of the most lushly verdant places I have ever seen. Yet, sadly, didn't see a single goddamn moose. Damn you, Maine place-names, and your raising of my expectations!
In terms of Maine itself, though, that's pretty much where my personal knowledge of this world begins and ends*. The very same friend who invited me to go to the cabin a year and a half ago has been strongly urging me to read this book, and as long as my mind was on the rural poverty track, well, sure, why not?
*Unless you count having read The Cider House Rules, but I think I learned more about abortion than Maine from that one.
One grad student's attempt to read all of his unfinished books in one year, and enlist the help of the internet in guilt-tripping him into doing it.
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