I normally shy away from writing reviews of books I didn't finish, but when I am seeking to DNF a book, I often look at 3 star reviews to gauge if I should continue - too many books in the world and all that jaz.

I made it to 33% of this novel. It's a quiet read like all of Brookner's novels, but something was plaguing me about this one.

It's just overwhelming depressing. I don't shy away from depressing reads, and some will say I seek them out, but I struggle when my protagonist takes on doormat status and continuously signs up for more. It makes my teeth hurt.

I thought that this novel would be about a woman in her 40s living life and reflecting on how literature became central to her existence, but instead I got coming of age vibes as I had to slog through her neglectful and borderline emotionally bankrupt parents behavior.

The scene where she obsessively ruminates on dinner for a desired male partner and the serious neglect of her own fundamental need to eat, in favor of reboiling the rice and moistening the chicken only to have him turn up an hour and half late, and she then STILL go without food in favor of attempting to impress him with all of the edible food left over after trying to keep the original meal from spoiling, I knew I couldn't go on.

I was actually a bit aggressively upset at her complacence in the ill treatment she received. Perhaps the argument can be made that her upbringing got her used to that kind of treatment, and while that's fair, I don't want to read about it.

I love Brookner and will continue reading her novels for sure. Hoping this was my last visit down sad alley with her work.