I’ve recently become obsessed with reading novels that trace a character’s life from youth to old age. Flesh is a prime example–and one knocked me sideways. The novel follows István, a taciturn Hungarian man, from his troubled teenage years through his unlikely ascent into the world of London’s super rich. Szalay’s writing is stripped to the bone (mostly dialogue), but he somehow creates a beautiful human story with a protagonist so real that I found myself missing him badly after finishing the book.
