I can't remember much about this book, after all the years since I read it. ( )

This book captivated me with its use of the language and its keen observations on life. If you like traditional structure and can’t bear a punctuation mark to be missing, forget it; it’s one long sentence. One long surprisingly readable, poetic, long sentence that somehow manages to convey the intricacies, heartbreaks and humor of life with its look at everything from politics to economics to construction on the smallest of scales. It’s definitely not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but honestly, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s going to win the Man Booker. Given my feelings on Lincoln and the Bardo (love), that’s saying something. ( )

In a small town in Ireland on All Souls’ Day in 2009, Marcus Conway sits at his kitchen table and reminisces about his life. His thoughts touch on his family, work as a civil engineer, political views, epidemics, and economic conditions. He reflects on his two children, Agnes and Darragh, when they were young and now that they have grown.

It is told in stream-of-consciousness without traditional punctuation. I am not generally a fan of writing that does not provide natural breaks for the reader. However, if you are like me in this regard, I heartily recommend the audio performance by Tim Gerard Reynolds. The prose is poetic and flows beautifully in the narration. There is a reason for the unusual structure, which will eventually become apparent. I own a copy of the e-book, so I was able to appreciate the author’s artistic intent.
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Solar Bones is a 2016 novel by Irish fiction writer Mike McCormack. The novel's plot revolves around Marcus Conway, a deceased middle-aged engineer who has returned on All Souls' Day, and is reminiscing about his past life's events while sitting at his kitchen table.

P28. ....reminds me, should I ever forget, that my childhood ability to get ahead of myself and reason to apocalyptic ends has remained intact over four decades...

...this circular dreamtime of chaos...

“... why these bleak thoughts today, the whole world in shadow, everything undercut and suspended in its own delirium, the light superimposed on itself so that all things are out of synch and kilter, things as themselves but slightly different from themselves also, every edge and outline blurred or warped and each passing moment belated, lagging a single beat behind its proper measure, the here-and-now beside itself, slightly off by a degree... “ p. 91 ( )