The Lost by Daniel Mendelsohn

There's an Irish expression – ag baint faid as – extracting length out of it. The story has almost died of exhaustion and home is nowhere in sight. The canon of parsimony has been violated beyond all patience and we now wish for 'closure'. We are denied relief but are too embarrassed by the gravity of the theme to fall out. That American word for putting something behind you and 'moving on' is deliberately not used in The Lost by Daniel Medelsohn. Well I've followed him to his old country homeland Galicia but I'll be dammed if I'll go to Australia by way of maundering exegesis of Cain and Abel. Enough already.