I don’t know what this story means. Maybe you can tell me. It certainly intends to tell me something, but I’m leery of drawing conclusions.
It’s starts off as yet another of those once-upon-a-time-in-my-memory-in-the-West stories, then suddenly throws a three-paragraph bit of essay at the reader, then ends with a new vignette from, oh, a couple decades after the first—this story only the slightest bit connected with the first. It left me a little dizzy. And if it weren’t for a genuinely surprising and painful moment in the second story, I might have been left completely confused.
But somehow that moment provided an aesthetic completeness.
I have another book (unread) in my collection by Horne (read it free!) and I may need to read it in hopes it will provide a key to this story.
The trouble I’m having is that this story is anxious to be interpreted and I’m anxious to avoid the easy interpretations. But maybe I’m trying too hard?
Oh please, Internet! Tell me what to think!
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