Last night I finished Olga Tokarczuk's The Empusium, my 22nd book of the New Year. It's also my second novel from Tokarczuk. We have a couple more lying around the house, but, truthfully, I'm not in any great hurry to jump into either of them. I appreciate her unique vision and the audacity of her choices, but I have to also say that I don't think I've cared about any character in either of the two novels I've read so far. It simply feels like (and, obviously, this could partially be a translation issue) there are major characters or themes that she simply hints at and never comes close to exploring. While there is a virtue in leaving room for the reader to bring their own experiences, emotions, and views into the reading process, the author can't provide so little that there's no there there. It didn't help that it was difficult to read this novel and not think of Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain, a novel that I love, and the ways that this story simply didn't stack up. Having said all that, I have her Drive your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead lying in my reading queue, it's just not forcing its way to the top.
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