I just finished reading Tinkers by Paul Harding as part of my goal to read all the Pulitzer Prize winners for fiction.
I have mixed feelings about this book. I guess when it comes down to it I just “liked” this book. No, wait, not really. I “appreciated” this book. I see the artistry in it. I marvel at the ability Harding has to paint clear, beautiful images with language. But I didn’t enjoy reading it, I could easily put it down, I was relieved to finish it so that I could cross it off the list and move on to the next book. To me, that is not a great recommendation.
The book focuses on George Crosby and his father, Howard Crosby. It uses George’s final days to recount events in both of their lives.
I did enjoy learning about the inner workings of clocks, as George’s hobby is horology. I can see how that could end up fascinating him and end up being the focus of much of his retirement.
As I mentioned before, Harding brings vivid images to mind with his writing. I would go so far as to say his work is some of the best I’ve ever read when it comes to that one aspect. But when I cared so little for the people and events I was reading it felt like a waste.