It really is a unique quality of literary fiction that I am reading it with an intense interest in the miserable circumstances without feeling remotely certain as to whether or not I'm enjoying the experience.

The thing that most recommends this series is its short chapters and what they do for suspense. At particular moments of high tension or revelation, the chapter was three ebook pages long, which must have been like a page and a half in a physical book. Absolutely all the propulsion in this book comes from interpersonal tension, and this series is a masterclass in making that interesting. It's less interesting politically than the first book was, but the character conflict became bigger and filled the space because our characters were functionally adults, their problems were more complex and the world evolved into a seemingly less complex place as a result as their beliefs solidified. I think this is very well done as well: how fascists and communists and Christian Democrats became matter-of-fact subjects of conversation, yes they exist, they are out there, there's a skirmish between them and so what? We are in the university and the grocery, what do they have to do with us, these are not formative experiences anymore. Look, now my prose imitates the text. I've got Neapolitan brainworms.

I will finish this series, and soon, but I look at the remaining books on my shelf with a certain grimness. I can't stop thinking about these characters and I want to see how they turn out, but I'm still not really emotionally involved? It's the strangest thing. I feel like I'm listening to a litany of gossip. It's mess and therefore entertaining, intense in places. I'm rarely confused about what I like about a book, but in this case I'm expecting there to be a third-act (fourth act?) turn that knocks me on my ass and makes me understand what I've been paying attention to the whole time, because I can't currently figure out exactly what is compelling me here.