Shortly after the announcement, I clicked over to my library website and was not surprised to find they didn't own a copy. Inter-library loan came to the rescue (there was just one in the entire system) and, less than a week later, Tinkers was in my hands.
Tinkers is a small, slim book (only 191 pages) about a dying man's last days. While lying on a hospital bed in his living room, tended by various family members, George Washington Crosby's mind journeys back to his childhood in New England.
George Crosby remembered many things as he died, but in an order he could not control. To look at his life, to take the stock he always imagined a man would at his end, was to witness a shifting mass, the tiles of a mosaic spinning, swirling, reportraying, always in recognizable swaths of colors, familiar elements, molecular units, intimate currents, but also independent now of his will, showing him a different self every time he tried to make an assessment. (page 18)
After 70 pages, I was enjoying the writing, but not fully engaged with the characters or the story. Others have praised the book, but I was not in the mood to appreciate the quiet style. Perhaps my new stack of books was distracting me. In any event, this seems to be a classic case of "right book, wrong time".
(may I add yours?)