Finishing The Master

30 May 2026: I hadn't planned to, but last night I found myself finishing The Master. Echoing the pace and style of his subject, Tóibín's prose makes a reader take their time; you literally can't dash through these pages. To be clear, this is a feature, not a bug. 

So when I picked the book up last night with about eighty pages to go, I thought I would maybe get through forty. But I was so quietly captivated by it that I just kept going. 

I think I'll think about this one for a while: Henry's push-and-pull between the social and the individual, his quietly torturous repression, and his devotion to his work. None of these are easy to describe or classify. And all of that makes perfect sense to me.