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3.0

2.5 stars. Literally, my main reaction is “eh.”

Saying these words aloud puts me in fear that I am again getting things wrong—not that others will disagree or misread me, but that the nearer I get to what I want to say, the further I deviate from it.

To be quite frank, this felt like reading an exercise in free writing: yknow, set the timer and force yourself to keep the pen moving. Which makes for an interesting but meandering narrative.

Li expresses plenty of opinions — about writers, readers, life, suicide, morality, time, etc, etc — and funnily I disagree with almost all of her casual “universal” observations, particularly those regarding human nature, interpersonal relationships, and the reader experience. I really wish they’d been further explained, or at least connected to anecdotes or readings, but as-is I didn’t gain much insight into what could’ve been a thought-provoking assertion.

I do feel like I have a pretty good grasp of the author as a person, her beliefs and values and uncertainties (not to mention life story), as she feels about the authors whose letters and journals she’s read. But all things considered I can’t say definitively whether this book is necessarily worth all the time I spent reading it.