Like many others, I wanted to love this novel because I admire Thomas King and his previous work. It wasn't a terrible book, just a long story about the protagonist visiting Prague, having disagreements with his wife and then making up, suffering fits of melancholia about not having accomplished anything in his life, worrying constantly about his declining health -- all interspersed with flashbacks to his youth. He wasn't a very sympathetic character. There were a few chuckles, a few pithy insights, but mostly it felt a tad tedious. Overall it was refreshing to read about indigenous people who travel abroad and have the same feelings and experiences as the rest of us, because why shouldn't they?