I'm reading one of the whackiest novels I've seen this year, Tinkers by Paul Harding. You may have heard of this narrow little novel, as it won the Pulitzer Award. I'm only a few pages in, but what stands out for me from Page 1 is the strangely hypnotic cadence of the words in every line.
"He tinkered. Tin pots, wrought iron. Solder melted and cupped in a clay dam. Quicksilver patchwork. Occasionally, a pot hammered back flat, the tinkle of tin sibilant, tiny beneath the lid of the boreal forest."-Page 12, Tinkers by Paul Harding
Help me pick my next book, I'm looking forward to peeking into what you are reading!