Last week in Salon, Julia Ingalls used Barbara Kingsolver’s latest novel, Flight Behavior, as a jumping-off point to ask the question, “Is the Great American Novel still relevant?” Leaving aside how many times that question has been asked, and whether there is any clear definition of the Great American Novel to begin with, the essay-cum-review is so full of question-begging I couldn’t resist tugging at the strings of Ingalls’s tightly bound package of doom and gloom.
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