Birdcloud by Annie Proulx

Annie Proulx is really a cranky old lady. She reminds me of those tough talking women in westerns, saying it how it is, dry and wry mouthed. This book is a memoir of her building her house in Wyoming and I liked it partly because we had just been there so could picture the whole thing. But it rambles on into an exploration of American history, archaeology and so forth, and is quite interesting as a result though I got sick of it in the end – no dramatic tension to keep me going. And it didn’t help that I just don’t like her testy, permanently pissed off style. So, I don’t know about this book.