I might have to call it quits on this book. It started out strong, but there is just something about the title character Owen Meany that makes this a hard read for me.
It's his voice.
Why should this matter, right? It's a book for crying out loud. The thing is, when I read a book I like to visualize the setting, the look of the characters, the clothes they're wearing and even what they sound like. The author describes Owen's voice as high, thin, whiny, sharp. And every word Owen says - every word - is in ALL CAPS. Honestly, it's a turn off for me. I find it distracting and annoying.
Owen Meany is like a cartoon character, not a real person, which makes it hard for me to relate to him. Everything about him is exaggerated. He's not just a little pale; he's almost translucent. He's not just a little loud; his voice is high-pitched and nasal. He's not sort of small for his age; he's actually so small that the other children can (and do) pick him up and pass him around over their heads. The boy played the baby Jesus in the school play, that's how small he is.
So I've lost interest in this book. I don't like to give up (and normally I don't give up) but I have a lot of books on my list and I don't want to spend another month trying to get absorbed in this story when maybe it's just not what I'm interested in. I'll watch Simon Birch instead.
So next selection is The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. I'm moderately excited about this one. I know the story (who doesn't?). I've seen the films (not the most recent one). I'm hoping it will be a good read.
