As in so what? As in shoulder shrug, or what do you expect me to do
about it? Or I don’t really give a fuck, or actually I approve of it,
it’s fine by me."
The final book of Ali Smith's seasonal quartet hasn't disappointed so far. I enjoy her impressionistic but powerful observed pictures of modern life. All four of the books are interconnected but in ways I'm afraid that I don't really remember from previous installments, but this doesn't take away from the fun I have reading her: she writes with a natural energy and flow that pulls you along.
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