There is nothing quite like the experience of reading Henry Green. His prose is so idiosyncratic and new. I've never read anyone who wrote like him before or since. It's hard to describe: it's akin to listening to a madman then slowly coming to the opinion that they're talking absolute sense. Not that his prose is hard to initially grasp, it's just different. It has different rhythms and cadences to the norm. He has a wicked vein of sly humour running through his work, and superb dialogue. The dialogue in Back is particularly good - people talk at cross purposes and refer without reference to things said paragraphs ago, as they do in normal speech. Overall this is a touching, perceptive account of a return from war - it has a hazy feel, like Charley Summer's own mind and recollections. I enjoyed it immensely, as I have all his books. I'm confident Green is the greatest British writer of this century (I've probably said that about another British writer of this century somewhere on amazon, but I really mean it about Henry Green!)
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