I finally finished this novel the second time around and could not have been happier... that it was finally over! The story flings itself over vast time lines, let alone vast places. The plot is a detached, curious mess.
The lead character, known throughout the story as only Pilgrim, has the inability to die. He has tried various methods, all without success. This one wishes he had, only so the tale would be very short. Pilgrim has had many lives, among them a rape victim of Leonardo Di Vinci and again as a shepherd boy. All these lives has driven Pilgrim insane, where we meet Carl Gustof Jung. Yes, the very same who broke bread with Freud.
What irritated me more then any other was the fact that the plot never went anywhere. Findley simply talks in circles and eventually spirals out of control into some ungodly mess. I could honestly have spent the week it took me to trudge through this... I can't call it work, I could have knitted a sweater! I'm not entirely sure what drove me to purchase this book in the first place, or why I challenged myself to read it completely through but I sorely regret it.
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