Speedboat

A meal made up of moreish yet entirely disparate chunks.

‰ЫПWhat is the point. That is what must be borne in mind. Sometimes the point is really who wants what. Sometimes the point is what is right or kind. Sometimes the point is a momentum, a fact, a quality, a voice, an intimation, a thing said or unsaid. Sometimes it‰ЫЄs who‰ЫЄs at fault, or what will happen if you do not move at once. The point changes and goes out. You cannot be forever watching for the point, or you lose the simplest thing: being a major character in your own life. ... The point has never quite been entrusted to me.‰Ыќ

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‰ЫП'You can‰ЫЄt miss it' always means you‰ЫЄre never going to find it. The shortest distance between two points may well be the wrong way on a one way street. All the same, all the same, I think there‰ЫЄs something to be said for assuring the next that the water‰ЫЄs fine‰ЫУquite warm, actually‰ЫУonce you get into it. You can‰ЫЄt miss it. It could be that the sort of sentence one wants right here is the kind that runs, and laughs, and slides, and stops right on a dime.‰Ыќ

Pleasant and interesting

I liked Speedboat. I liked the humor and the author's ability to capture a mood, a place, a time. I liked its unique form. But after a while, the narrator felt glib. After a while, the anecdotes felt trivial. So, it was pleasant and likable, but stayed too much on the surface, and I like novels that make me feel more, or at least dazzle me with their authors' cerebrations.