that must be a type of depression or somethin..
I really wanted to like this book, you had me at "two weeks on the Hudson". It seemed to be about a paddle down the Hudson River from Lake Henderson on South, but there was vey little written about the canoe trip and much about what was on the author's mind. Some of the facts were in question. The author lost me early on with his Twainesque and as exaggerated attempt to render phonetically the New York City accent as some strange kind of sub-dialect of the English language. I suppose this is amusing to non-New Yorkers who fanatasize that no one outside of this City has an accent. But I pressed on through the rest of the book anyway. There's a mean spirited vein that runs through this book and cheap shots are not limited to New Yorkers. It was a disappointing read.
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