After spending almost a week struggling to find interludes of anything to enjoy about Janice Galloway’s The Trick is to Keep Breathing, I have failed and am placing it back on the shelf. As a teenager, this brand of endlessly repetitive interior monologue might have held me fast. But, one of the most wonderful things about middle age is the knowledge that although griefs are every bit as surprising and painful as they are in youth, the residuals don’t seem to linger and aren’t half as enjoyable. I couldn’t stand Galloway’s narrator, if the truth be told, and found her extreme predicament less than believable. So, in Disgrace as it were for fizzling out on the follow through, it’s the Coetzee for me.