The book I am reading is The Book Of Michael by Lesley Choyce. This story is writen as if it were the memoires of a boy named Michael. His life thus far has been filled with troubles, mostly his fault. His biggest problem occured at the age of sixteen, when he received a call from the police. It turns out that Michaels girlfriend had been murdered and he was the last one to see her, the judge and jurry thought they knew what this meant and threw him in jail. While in jail, Michael began to read anything he could get his hands on. One of his favorites was Malcolm X's Autobiography. Six months into his conviction Michael is released, when he asks why it turns out that an old girlfriend of his had admited to the murder, the rest of the book is Michael reflecting on eveything that led up to this, and what he should do now.
This book is a dark, interesting, but sometimes long-winded novel. I can appreciate it at the same time as growing dreadfuly weary of it. An increadibly dreary start sets you up for a book full of depression, even thopugh interupted by occasional philosophical insight from the I Ching book trying to make things look brighter, the depressions still there. A fault in the novel is the autour using it to blatantly promote their oppinion of the world, pro literature, pro death sentance, against the media (a somewhat hipocritical oppinion for someone in his line of work.) All in all it is an acceptable book, I would just prefer a more subtle author.
