I'm always disappointed when the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction is announced and all I can say is: "Huh?" That's exactly what happened this year when I just heard on the radio that March by Geraldine Brooks was awarded the Pulitzer. Since I have been specifically paying attention in the past few years I have heard of previous winners Gilead and The Known World before the win, and had already read Middlesex and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. I think it has to do with how familiar I am with the author's previous work. I've read Michael Chabon (Wonder Boys) and Jeffrey Euginides (The Virgin Suicides) before and think highly of the authors. NPR has had a few Edward P Jones and Marilynne Robinson pieces on air. But March? This isn't The March, by E.L. Doctorow (a Pulitzer Finalist), but rather a continuation of Little Women, taking a character from the book and expanding the story.
Ooh?
Nah.
I can't say just how not interested I am in March. Maybe it's a fantastic novel and I know I'll find out because I would like to read all the Pulitzer novels, but ugh.
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