Dead president’s corpse in the driver’s car. The engine runs on glue and tar.

Let’s devote our lives to understanding this moment, separating the elements of each crowded second. We will build theories that gleam like jade idols, intriguing systems of assumption, four-faced, graceful. We will follow the bullet trajectories backwards to the lives that occupy the shadows, actual men who moan in their dreams.

There is the system and there are those who serve the system. There are tomcats and there are cat’s paws.

Secret services saw in John Kennedy a real threat to their holding sway over the entire state. “It’s not just Kennedy himself. He thinks he can make us a different kind of society. He’s trying to engineer a shift. We’re not smart enough for him… Do you know what charisma means to me? It means he holds the secrets. The dangerous secrets used to be held outside the government. Plots, conspiracies, secrets of revolution, secrets of the end of the social order. Now it’s the government that has a lock on the secrets that matter. All the danger is in the White House, from nuclear weapons on down.”

There is a secret world within the world. Clandestine movers and shakers live among us but they abide in the invisible world of their own. This hidden realm is filled with mystery and intrigue, where power plays and shadowy figures manipulate events behind the scenes. It is a world that most of us are unaware of, yet it has a profound impact on our lives. The actions and decisions made by those in this secret world can shape the course of history and determine the fate of nations. We must strive to uncover the truth and bring these hidden forces to light, for only then can we hope to understand the true nature of the world we live in.

A work of bright and ruthless genius, the JFK assassination as recounted by some alien being from the far future. Well actually, not really, not at all. Well actually, at times it felt like it. Is DeLillo less than human or more than human? The novel makes no attempt to be historically factual. Actually, the facts presented are reasonable and sound. The novel is historically factual, as much as anything can be.

The narrative is, of course, almost too complex to be detailed. Although it is, in its way, a straightforward narrative, straight as an arrow, straight as any history of well-known events could be. Conspiracy theories, so many of them, competing with each other, often making complete sense as they are told, only to be collapsed by the next conspiracy theory. The conspiracy theory as just one version of the many-told tale, stories handed down from teller to teller. An interesting conceit. Actually, more than that - storytelling is perhaps the point of the whole novel.

What is the truth in a story? Who is the real person behind the historical personage, behind the character in the story? The novel wonders: can reality ever truly be represented? Such a humorous book at times. The jokes are secret jokes, told with a straight face. The deaths are no joke, no joke at all. The novel is dead serious. The death of Lee Harvey Oswald is a harrowing, moving experience, the best sequence of many excellent sequences in the book. The novel is powerful and yet filled with minutiae, with meaningless detail. Each detail is packed with meaning. It is a Choose Your Own Adventure, of sorts. Astrology is real, it defines us and all of our actions. Astrology is an illusion, as is motivation and circumstance and conspiracy and history itself. Libra is a post-modern classic. Well, actually.

One can view Libra as either a political thriller or a significant contribution to the debate regarding who was truly behind one of the most infamous political assassinations of the twentieth century. The shots fired in Dallas made it abundantly clear that this event is not easily interpretable. It becomes lost in a haze of conjectures and hypotheses, and continues to be a fertile ground for increasingly bold conspiracy theories. (I, for one, am not a great enthusiast of conspiracy theories, whether in books or in real life. In fact, in Poland, we have more than enough of them. People are divided between those who believe that the Smolensk incident was a tragic plane accident and others who are convinced that it was a criminal assassination. My apologies for this personal aside.)

Libra unfolds on three distinct planes. The first is the story of Lee H. Oswald, presented from his childhood in the Bronx, through his service in Japan, his dalliance with Marxism, and his stay in the Soviet Union, all the way to his death at the hands of Jack Ruby. Oswald is the eponymous "Libra," a man full of contradictions, much like the zodiacal sign. One truly has no idea what might tip the scales in one direction or the other. From DeLillo's pen emerges a portrait of a man lacking in qualities, a somewhat mysterious and indecisive character - we are left wondering precisely what his motivation was.

On the second plane, we witness the conspiratorial activities of the special services and criminal groups. Here, the main roles are played by retired agents, members of the anti-Castro opposition, anti-communist activists, and the mafia. Independently of one another, they are all preparing a provocation aimed at Kennedy.

Finally, the third thread takes place many years after the assassination of Kennedy. The main protagonist here is a CIA analyst who has been inundated by the Agency with meticulous facts and evidence, and is attempting to organize them and uncover the truth about what really happened in Dallas. Indeed, it is none other than DeLillo himself who is at work.

Like every tragic and unsolved mystery, Kennedy's assassination has become a wellspring of numerous theories seeking a logical explanation. The picture that DeLillo paints is so disconcerting and thought-provoking, and the entire story is so coherent and plausible that, upon finishing our reading, our minds are left with the question: and what if that was the case...

Attention everyone, an unpopular opinion is coming!! Please prepare your pitchforks!

I read DeLillo’s White Noise not so long ago. I really enjoyed its humor and weirdness. However, I have to admit that I cannot remember a thing from it. On the other hand, this book is all about the plot. There is so much plot! But is it too much plot? And is there too little of anything else?

This is a historical fiction that presents a conspiracy theory version of the events leading up to Kennedy’s assassination. According to the book, it was all the CIA’s plot to stop Kennedy from getting too close to Castro (not to kill him but to attempt to kill him). There are a lot of characters in the CIA, hired killers, and Cubans, and they all sound the same. At some point, I gave up on trying to figure out who was who because they were so similar. The book reads more like a wikipedia page (admittedly a very long one), and I was a little interested because I know nothing about American history. But I have to question what a person who knows it well will get out of this book.

And the most well-written character in the forefront of it all is Lee Harvey Oswald, an enigma of a man. Is he ideological? A Trotsky reincarnate? Is he an idiot? A dreamer? A loser? Is he a kind and loving father who wants his little daughter to sleep on his side of the bed? Or is he a violent man who starts beating his wife all of a sudden? Who knows? He’s all of these things! I don’t understand who he is at all. And I think that DeLillo, unlike Mantel who knows her Cromwell so well, doesn’t really know his Oswald that much. He had to spell it out through the other character, as shown in the quotes: “We have the positive Libran who has achieved self-mastery. He is well balanced, levelheaded, a sensible fellow respected by all. We have the negative Libran who is, let’s say, somewhat unsteady and impulsive. Easily, easily, easily influenced. Poised to make the dangerous leap. Either way, balance is the key.” And “He thought the only end to isolation was to reach the point where he was no longer separated from the true struggles that went on around him. The name we give this point is history.” These are the oldest and most obvious motivations of them all.

DeLillo’s writing is very detached and matter-of-fact. The dialogues sound unnatural and false, which makes me sincerely doubt if he ever read a book written by a woman or had a meaningful conversation with one. There’s nothing beautiful in it, just staccato pow pow pow like bullets from a revolver, and most of the bullets miss (unlike that other bullet).

Do I believe this conspiracy theory? I’m typically not big on them, but the amount of deaths surrounding LHO does look very suspicious, and the CIA hardly has a great track record. But the truth is we don’t know yet, and maybe we will eventually.

What I’m trying to say is that I never really cared while reading this book. To be honest, I wish I had just read a wiki page. And what about DeLillo? Well, I’m still cautiously interested, but he’s not Pynchon. Of course, not everyone has to be Pynchon. But for me personally, you need to be a genius and have a great sense of humor and crazy literary dexterity to pull off this type of story. I did think “I wish this was written by Pynchon.” Don’t worry, we’ll get to Underworld eventually. But first, Mao II. And now I have a suspicion that I overpraised White Noise!

So, I have a profound love for reading, and I often fancy myself as a writer.

After delving into Don DeLillo's "Libra", I can truthfully state that I remain a reader.

If there has been any alteration in this regard, perhaps I would assert that I am now a completely flabbergasted reader.

As for my aspiration of being a writer, this remarkable book has indeed made me question it, at least in terms of whether I can be considered a great writer.

Don DeLillo is undoubtedly an outstanding writer. His book is a strange and suspenseful blend of fiction and reality, revolving around the Kennedy assassination, government agents, both good and bad people, confusion, and numerous WTF moments.

All of this amounts to masterfully distilled storytelling.

I have decided not to read anything for a short period so that the essence of this book can linger within me.

This way, I can fully absorb and reflect upon the genius of Don DeLillo's writing and perhaps gain some inspiration for my own literary pursuits.

I am reciting a life and I need time.

What a remarkable writer DeLillo is. He arrives on the page with a sense of calm, as if there is no urgency. A lack of hurriedness pervades these pages. The story of Lee Oswald unfolds at a captivating pace. In fact, I firmly believe that DeLillo's contribution to world literature lies in his exploration of the inevitable slowness of existence. Its unyielding nature.

Much has been said about the fast-paced plot and the need to constantly move from one event to another. However, DeLillo holds you in the arresting moments. He wants you to feel the terror not as an outsider, but as someone who is trying to give meaning to the singular event that shapes history, bestowing upon it the tenderness, meaning, and memory it deserves.

In his piece for the Guardian post 9/11, titled "In the Ruins of the Future", he mentions what the writer is attempting to do when recapturing history on the page. The history here is the sum total of all the untold things, without a doubt. It is the history that takes shape and structure, with events forced into coherence through the news, emerging from locked rooms where men change the course of history. History is constantly evolving, forever destined to be customized to make it more palatable for public consumption.

The writer is here trying to imagine the moment. Not the events that led up to it or the inevitable aftermath. He takes into account the event itself. The shot heard around the world. Shots that reverberate through history. He desperately tries to capture this moment in its raw form. But the moment doesn't present itself in isolation. There are deeply embedded plots, so subtle yet unshakeable, that it's no surprise that the reader feels this is how it was meant to be. This was destiny.

A word on the structure. It's interesting. DeLillo narrates the events in a seemingly random way, but only until we realize that Lee's story is unfolding a bit slowly, a bit intentionally offset and behind, and fills in expertly when viewed from his perspective. We see how he shows up at the wrong place at the wrong time throughout, and how his inability to融入 the inner normalcy of life and society becomes ammunition for spinning plots that seem inevitable given the larger context of his role in history.

Libra was Lee Harvey Oswald’s astrological sign, and it is from this bit of biographical trivia that Don DeLillo’s 1988 novel Libra takes its title.

Among all the vast body of work that has been written over the years regarding the 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy, Libra stands out for a couple of reasons. First, by choosing the novelistic format, rather than publishing a “nonfiction” book that claims to uncover a hitherto undiscovered “truth” regarding the JFK assassination, DeLillo untethers himself from the long, dreary litany of writers obsessing over grassy knolls and single-bullet theories and homeless men with suspiciously well-shined shoes. Second, DeLillo, in writing an openly fictional book that does not claim to tell the “truth” about the assassination, is able to get at some real truths – truths regarding both the way in which historical moments unfold, and the ways in which human beings try to make sense of that history.

DeLillo’s great theme seems to be the way in which the systems that human beings construct invariably end up revealing human folly and weakness. This general principle applies to works like White Noise (1985), DeLillo’s satire of academia. In White Noise, the main character’s development of a Department of Hitler Studies at a prestigious liberal-arts college illustrates both the modern academy’s tendency to overspecialize and the way in which academics can become untethered from the real-world significance of what they study. The “Hitler Studies” department somehow never seems to find time to discuss the Holocaust.

That focus on human systems as demonstrative of human weakness also seems to apply to Libra. In Libra, the elaborate post-World War II national-security apparatus that was developed to protect the citizens of the United States of America from foreign enemies ends up killing off the president of the United States.

Much of the JFK conspiracy-theory detail that has gathered around the assassination over the years, like a grotesque pearl forming within a polluted oyster, has stemmed from one known historical fact – that there were operatives within the CIA and other agencies of the U.S. government who were unhappy that President Kennedy, after the failure of the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961, refused to consider war with communist Cuba.

The catch in Libra – and what gives DeLillo’s JFK-assassination scenario its unique power – is that the assassination conspiracy begins as a conspiracy to fake an assassination attempt against the president, while leaving a metaphorical breadcrumb trail that goes straight back to Fidel Castro. The conspirators believe that the apparent assassination attempt will force President Kennedy to lead the U.S.A. into a war against Cuba. Somewhere along the line, however, the plot to fake an assassination attempt becomes a plot to commit an assassination – and the key figure, the fall guy, the patsy, becomes one Lee Harvey Oswald.

Oswald emerges as a helpless, pathetic figure throughout Libra. He is poor and uneducated, incapable of thinking critically or independently, forever at the mercy of, or being manipulated by, indifferent or hostile outside forces. When, during his brief career as a U.S. Marine, he is imprisoned at a Marine brig, Oswald witnesses the guards’ brutality against prisoners and “tried to feel history in the cell. This was history out of George Orwell, the territory of no-choice. He could see how he’d been headed here since the day he was born. The brig was invented just for him. It was just another name for the stunted rooms where he’d spent his life” (p. 100).

Other characters share Oswald’s helplessness before larger historical forces. A worried Marguerite Oswald calls the State Department because she is concerned about her son; Lee Harvey Oswald has defected to the Soviet Union, and she has not heard from him since he disappeared into the U.S.S.R. Her frustrating interaction with a State Department aide will resonate with anyone who has faced the impersonality and indifference of government bureaucracy.

Oswald’s story, leading up to 22 November 1963, is interwoven with another story taking place in the novel’s present – the story of Nicholas Branch, a CIA historian who has spent many years working on a secret CIA history of the assassination. Branch, forever receiving reams and reams of information on the assassination, comes to engage in some very DeLillo-esque reflections on the impossibility of arriving at the truth about anything.

Branch is writing a history that will never be finished – a history that, even if he does finish it, will go forever unread. It is understandable, therefore, that Branch, taking refuge in notes that are becoming an end in themselves, “has decided it is premature to make a serious effort to turn these notes into coherent history. Maybe it will always be premature. Because the data keeps coming. Because new lives enter the record all the time. The past is changing as he writes. Every name takes him on a map tour of the Dallas labyrinth” (p. 301).

Libra reaches its climax on 22 November 1963, as Oswald, assured by the powers behind the conspiracy that he will be able to do his part and suffer no real consequences, takes his place on the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository and plays his role in the hideous drama that unfolded that day in Dealey Plaza.

All this time, Oswald imagines himself getting away with it: “He had a picture, he saw himself telling the whole story to someone, a man with a rugged Texas face, but friendly, but understanding. Pointing out the contradictions. Telling how he was tricked into the plot. What is it called, a patsy?” (pp. 400-01). Yes, a patsy. A patsy to the end, Oswald has no idea what is about to happen to him.

For my part, I have always believed that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. As a reader of history – from Herodotus and Thucydides, to Livy and Tacitus, to Edward Gibbon, to John Hope Franklin and Doris Kearns Goodwin – I have always been struck by the way great events often turn upon tiny chances: the contingency theory of history. For me, a vast conspiracy – one in which some combination of pro-Castro Cubans and anti-Castro Cubans and the CIA and the FBI and the Mafia and Lyndon Johnson and Southern white supremacists seamlessly coordinate and execute a successful criminal conspiracy that goes forever undetected – seems none too plausible. More than 50 years later, there has been no deathbed confession, no new piece of evidence, that has fundamentally changed the narrative. Those who, years ago, would have tended to believe in a JFK assassination conspiracy still do. Those who would have tended not to believe in such a conspiracy still don't.

But a lone misfit crouching in a high place with a gun and – suddenly, horribly, irrevocably – changing the course of history? That seems only too plausible.

Personally, I think that the JFK conspiracy theorists are engaged in an ultimately futile attempt to impose some sense of order upon the chaos of the historical process. But it is the job of fiction to ask “What if?”, to let the human imagination roam free, ask difficult questions, pose thought-provoking scenarios. DeLillo’s willingness to do just that, and to link the story of the JFK assassination with larger insights about human nature, makes Libra a great and profound novel.

**Title: An In-depth Look at "Libra" by Don DeLillo**

Libra is a captivating and thought-provoking conspiratorial thriller. In this story, Lee Harvey Oswald is recruited by a group of ex-CIA operatives with business interests in Cuba to bungle the Kennedy assassination. Their aim is to trigger a US war on Cuba. What sets this thriller apart is not just its engaging plot but also the fact that it is written by a great author who has profound insights into technology, media, and their influence on human nature. While reading Libra, I couldn't help but constantly think of Norman Mailer's Harlot's Ghost. Although Libra may not have the same grand scope as Mailer's novel, I thoroughly enjoyed DeLillo's detailed and somewhat mysterious exploration of spooks and how they fabricate enemies.

DeLillo's writing style is truly unique and interesting. The third-person narration frequently transitions into the inner thoughts and conversations of the characters. This technique is particularly prominent in the early chapters that focus on Oswald's teenage self-awareness and his persistent sense of being an outsider. It is also used extensively for Oswald's mother, Marguerite. Additionally, DeLillo's cinematic description of the Kennedy assassination is simply breathtaking and may have even served as an inspiration for the assassination sequence in Oliver Stone's JFK.

Personally, as someone without strong political convictions, I wasn't overly drawn to any of the characters. However, I found myself sympathizing with both Oswald and Ruby. In the novel, they are portrayed as passionate yet naïve men who are manipulated by those in power to further their own devious agendas. I believe DeLillo was suggesting that these individuals were driven by forces beyond their control. As Marx said, "It is not the consciousness of man that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness’, thus creating the idea that history is shaped by man, yet it is their social class that ultimately dictates the course of history they drive."

Rating: 78/100

As the young Lee Harvey Oswald was hurtling through the underground railways of New York, my plane journey was hurtling down the line and soaring off the ground. Its final destination was the beautiful city of Wroclaw, Poland. These two acts occurring simultaneously mirrored the colossal speeding forces of history that I was on the verge of witnessing in this novel, hurtling towards its conclusion.

It would, of course, be far more poetic if the plane also landed precisely at the moment this novel ended. Because, as it turns out, this novel is very much like a plane ride. It hurtles forward like a tsunami at the start. While in the air, there are moments of turbulence and confusion. (Is it normal for it to shake this much? Did lightning just strike the wing of the plane? Jesus Christ, can that guy behind me stop kicking my fucking seat?) And there is simultaneous joy and fear at the anticipation of a landing, a resolution to the turbulence in between.

Like a plane ride, we all know the story. We know how it begins, and we know how it ends. History dictates that we do. But there is always possibility in the plot between take-off and landing. I believe DeLillo's novel is very much about this core of possibility; about that which has not yet been properly explored surrounding the Kennedy Assassination; the conspiracies, the coincidences, the various drives and impulses of people and institutions, the forces and mechanisms of history and of spectacle.

Libra is where all the conspiracy theories that have emerged over the years converge. Starting from the famous November 22, 1963, a date that, in the words of DeLillo, broke the backbone of the century in the United States. In Libra, DeLillo proposes that the "official" assassin of President Kennedy, Lee Harvey Oswald, was only the visible face of a much larger and more intricate conspiracy, founded from the very heart of the US, based on a decision that many consider an error of Kennedy's during an invasion of Cuba (the Bay of Pigs in 1961) to overthrow Fidel Castro.

Of course, Libra does not necessarily conform to what DeLillo really thinks (at least not exactly), and he has even made it explicit on several occasions. However, it is always interesting to reach impossible places in real life through literature.

Reading reviews from other users, I found people who had the same experience as me: this DeLillo of Libra is not the same as the DeLillo of, for example, White Noise. DeLillo is intensely criticized for his writing style, his insipid plots, and his flat and cardboard characters. However, in Libra, it is clear that DeLillo is a great writer. Not only is his way of narrating extraordinary, but he is also a writer who adapts. In White Noise, DeLillo used a very empty and bodiless narration precisely because that was what his book was about, criticizing the dehumanization of society due to soulless consumerism. In Libra, DeLillo's writing takes on a much more fragmented, even suffocating tone. Almost at no moment does the reader have full certainty of what is happening and who each character is, like Nicholas Branch, among solitary data that come together in unknown coincidences that feed paranoia. And to make things even more desperate, he breaks the narration with phrases that seem to come out of nowhere and yet, in some way, feel in harmony with what you were reading. DeLillo plays with random and unexpected time changes, dialogues between characters who talk to the air, within a soliloquy interrupted by other voices in the background and which must also be listened to, and all this chaos creates a climate that absorbs the reader in the same conspiracy.

But mainly, I want to highlight the aspect that, in my opinion, is the most valuable of Libra. DeLillo has known how to establish such complex and well-developed characters that they are even scary in their three-dimensionality. DeLillo drew from real people and represented them on paper almost without losing their real nature. He took hold of Lee Oswald and fit him into literature, in a tragic Coming of Age full of bad influences that makes one feel a kind of attachment to Oswald, perhaps pity. Because that's what DeLillo is about, the real story develops behind the scenes. People like spiders in the dark whispering to each other are the ones who mark the beginning of one time and close another. "History is composed of the sum of the elements that are not told to us." DeLillo explains to us that history gestates behind our backs and what we see is only a brief fragment lost that the media and social hysteria latch onto to explain events of which we will never be able to know the truth.

Probably, a second Warren Commission will never be formed to explain what the first one still cannot explain. We will remain on this side of history, on the side of the light, seeing fleeting sparks that escape from what we are prohibited from observing. Here we have to be.

"When you are convinced that you have seen all the ways in which violence can surprise you, something new appears that you had not even imagined. With how much force do the bullets strike to reach a man in the chest and make his hat fly a meter and a half into the air in a straight line? It was a lesson about the laws of motion and a reminder to all of humanity that nothing is safe."

Intuition is truly a curious thing. For years, I had intended to read Don DeLillo, yet I kept avoiding him. He seemed to be everywhere, often accompanied by glowing praise, and even on my own bookshelf, "Libra" sat there gathering dust. You see, I was intimidated by DeLillo for no rational reason other than this intuitive sense that his work would be challenging.

And I was right. It took me weeks to get through this book. It wasn't that I couldn't understand what was happening; rather, I had great difficulty connecting with the material on a page-by-page basis. DeLillo's writing style is both dense and cold. To make matters worse, there is a large cast of characters to keep track of, the worst kind being FBI and CIA agents and their associates, all of whom blend into an annoying and interchangeable mess. Additionally, the constantly changing point of view, which wasn't a problem for me in Kesey's "Sometimes a Great Notion" due to that book's heart and soul, here left me feeling detached.

This book is a fictionalized account of JFK's assassination, with "Libra" referring to Lee Harvey Oswald, the infamous would-be shooter or patsy. I should mention that I was raised by a father who was 14 on that fateful day in Dallas, and I inherited his lifelong curiosity about what really happened. He has read all the books, watched all the documentaries and films, and I did the same alongside him, listening to his thoughts, theories, and questions. So, I went into this reading with a fair amount of knowledge about the event and the expectation that I would find it as captivating as my father did.

It would be unjust and incorrect to overlook the incredible amount of background detail that went into this 450-page novel. DeLillo does an outstanding job of providing the reader with the who, what, where, why, and how. This is no small feat, and I felt appreciation and admiration for what he accomplished in these pages, even if I didn't feel a great deal of interest or enjoyment.

Well, that's not entirely true. My interest would flare up whenever LHO entered the scene because he was so strange, such an unknowable outsider. So young, so unpredictable, so mediocre, so idealistic, so poor... and now this historical figure known by all his given names. My interest peaked in the November 22 chapter. DeLillo captured the events in such a powerful, cinematic way that I found myself recalling the iconic film sequence almost frame by frame, my heart pounding and clenching as President Kennedy waved and mouthed "thank you" moments before the bullets flew and seconds before his wife would be holding part of his brains in her hands.

I also found it interesting the way the author interpreted the assassination as being rooted in CIA dissatisfaction after the Bay of Pigs. I similarly enjoyed learning about Oswald's defection to the USSR, his marriage to a Russian woman, and the importance of U-2 aircraft in the story.

Yet, I struggled to feel engaged in these pages. For the most part, I experienced a significant emotional distance between me and the text. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice by the author, but in my opinion, it does a disservice to an event that has deeply lodged itself in the hearts of people worldwide. An event that serves as a reminder that we can't always know the answers, that idealism can be shattered, and that everything can go wrong. It's the broken heart of one of the great unsolved mysteries. The heart was missing here, or the hearts of the man who was always on the outside, let down by his country, and of the man who was bravely leading it.

I haven't managed to connect with the book.

The reading has become heavy, as if a weight is pressing down on my mind.

Although the subject is treated from an original point of view, the narrative style has not transmitted emotions to me. It is very cold wording, lacking the warmth and passion that can draw a reader in.

And when the author gets into digressions and thoughts of the characters, it's even worse. The reading gets slow and tedious, like a never-ending journey through a dull landscape.

I admit that this is an interesting lesson for anyone who likes to investigate the facts surrounding JFK's murder. However, for me personally, despite my fondness for these conspiracy theories, this novel has failed to fully engage me.

Perhaps it is the lack of emotional connection or the cumbersome writing style that has left me feeling disappointed.

Nonetheless, I still believe that there is value in exploring different perspectives and theories, even if they don't always resonate with us on a personal level.

Maybe with further reflection, I will be able to find something more meaningful in this book.