Certain yuppies, not to mention any names, love to recount to me not only how much they are personally LOVING "The Gold Finch" (which one of them has been reading for at least 6 months) but love doing me the huge favor of explaining each development and every twist in the plot. Since this has happened several times over the last few months, I have gotten used to the way they swell with excitement as they let me know exactly what I have to look forward to.
"You MUST read it. The one who's clearly been savoring the story tells me every few minutes, as a way to punctuate the gripping blow by blow. I nod, enthusiastically, "I can't wait! I have got to read it." I say, widening my eyes to convey sincere enthusiasm.
I keep my eyes opened as wide as possible as they continue, this time to communicate how electrifying their arguments over the character dynamics within the story is to me, the listener.
"But the without the Russian boy, he would be completely isolated in Las Vegas. Sure he's not the most savory character, but without him the kid wouldn't have anyone, then what would he do?"
"That Russian boy is terrible, he's a terrible character. I wouldn't want my kids mixing with him! I wish he wasn't part of the story."
"But without him the boy would have no one."
"He's a hoodlum, I can't wait. Cannot wait for the boy to get out of Las Vegas. Nothing but trouble there."
"But aren't you at the part where he goes back to New York yet? That's where I'm at. He's back there with the furniture maker." That was after he stole the painting from the Met and rolled it up. It's a painting of a Gold Finch, Dakotah.
"No I'm still in Las Vegas. I cannot wait for him to get out of there."