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This review is from: Ice Age (Paperback)
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The Ice Age is a short novel, narrated in first person by an unnamed young woman. She is drifting aimlessly across the United States, being chauffeured by a similarly aimless man called Gunther. Gunther has no job, no visible means of support, and has an endless network of friends across the country to call in and visit.
Kirsten Reed clearly wants to explore the relationship between Gunther - an older man with the car and the money - and the unnamed narrator who is much younger and depends upon Gunther for everything. There are halfhearted attempts to explore the narrator's feeling of powerlessness and how this is transformed into an unrequited love. Unfortunately, as soon as an idea comes along, it is usurped by more banal details of seedy motels or grim sofas in grim units. There's no real development and no real depth. Add this to a novel which has no real beginning, no plot and no particularly tangible ending and you have a rather forgettable work. Other writers have done drifting somewhat better; other writers have done the Lolita thing better (Nabakov, for example). Sadly this is just a me-too novel(la) that doesn't offend but doesn't add anything either. Like some of the narrator's experiences, this is quick and unsatisfying.