Largabista

Antonia comes off not so much a woman as a force of nature. At least that's how I can finally comprehend how a mere human being --- no matter how forceful of presence --- can have a story built around her life with only a series of trivial even sordid situations to show for it.

The running subtext here is that we are looking at a life that is, well, larger than life. Her biographer, Jim, who go a long way back with her, vacillated between infatuation and reverence.

His bias shaped those of the readers and kept us turning pages in our attempt to find a peg for what made Antonia click. The closest I ever came was a sense of her as both earthy and sublime. If only this translated to a character that we can all understand with our guts instead of a goddess whose motivations is clear only to herself and maybe not even.

That is if she can be thought to have any premeditation at all, instead of being such a creature of the moment. There's something of an animal about Antonia which the author later played up and off her through the almost-feral personality of one of her sons.

It's a good thing that when character development falters there's still the lovely language to fall back on. I covet such gems as being "brushed by the wings of a great feeling." Some of the trifling running commentaries can also be spot on, like the observation about the "curious depression surrounding small towns."

Like Antonia herself, a particularly fine flourish in the human canvas, these created their own little fireworks in what is otherwise a rather plodding narrative.