Revere- counterlife

Finishing Philip Roth's The Counterlife there's a feeling of exhuastion. Jew, Jew, Jew. For an atheist Jew there's so much talk about being Jewish. It almost forces a review to look at the book as a Jewish text.
If this can be avoided, it's clear that the book fails on first principles. It's only talk. There's monologues and dialogues and monologues about dialogues. There are letters sent to cover what was missed in the dialogues and replies to those letters. Each needing their own p.s. 's and p.s.s.'s in order to contextualize what's been said.
It takes the pleasure out of reading when there's is nothing to imagine. And it doesn't leave room for what we look for in literature.

The Frick

The Frick is a relaxing museum. The floor is carpeted, the walls are warmly colored. There was a comfy couch in a long room where I sat looking at paintings by Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Velazquez, Goya and others.
Derived from a coal magnate's (Frick) collection, the curation is based on his own feelings of harmony rather than similarities in era or style. These contrasts create directions for thought- what makes the paintings go together, what makes paintings more effective.
His home, designed by Thomas Hastings, is worth seeing for the architecture. In a high, skylit middle room is a long pool with a fountain. Its walls are windowed so you can look into some of the rooms.