My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Maybe you have to be an adolescent boy to appreciate this novel, but I don't get what the appeal is. I did like the observation about the museum and how the viewer's perspective is what changes.
“The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and they're pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody's be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way—I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it.” (--p. 121)This book is on my Classics Club List because it is one of those books I felt like I needed to read because it is a cultural touchstone. It also counts, since it was published in 1951, toward the Back to the Classics Challenge as a book by an author that's new to me.