C is one of those books that I can appreciate is very cleverly, artfully and intelligently written. Certain descriptive passages demand to be re-read immediately, due to their lyrical qualities. The somewhat emotionally detatched central character, Serge, connects with his environment and surroundings throughout each section of his life in a way that he never does with other people, so the characters in the novel are thin at best and poorly written at worst.
It is divided into sections, geographically distant from each other, following Serge as he stumbles through his life and career, fascinated by communication and code in its many forms. This is the only thing that links the chapters, and I often felt that the author had several random ideas that he tenuously threaded together into the novel. They read more like a series of short stories than one continuing narrative. As with the majority of books that I seem to read, the ending was an anticlimax.
I think this book may improve on a second reading, now I know not to focus on the plot but simply to enjoy the craft of the writing. Until then though, I remain disappointed.
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