“In my experience, the people who worry about losing their edge, often they fail to see they already lost the blade along time ago.”
My second attempt at reading this. Bought it when it came out in 2009 and got to page 292. My dim memory is that I was floundering in the sea of Yiddish terms and also, #2, it weren't no Kavalier and Klay.
Loved it this time around. Thick book -- Chabon really lays it on thick with sense description, and it starts to slow things down halfway through, and take some steam out of the engine of a great noir whodunit -- but Chabon's writing in and of itself is such a great wallowing pleasure, he's always trying to please, and I love the book for that.
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