I wondered often as I read this book if I was clever or educated enough to get it, and I wondered if that even mattered. Reading this book is like tossing yourself into a storm-laden sea, to be battered back and forth by words, astounded by gorgeous, lush fragments of phrase and crystalline images of relationships created, broken asunder, and wild waters navigated. It’s an impressionist painting of a novel that you can read closely and admire each individual brushstroke, but you can enjoy it wildly, late at night with whisky or coffee or tea or all three. It’s brilliant.