TK Khan

Often times a reader's experience is defined by how the characters can drag them into the story. I tend to judge the author based on how they immerse me in the most critical moments; whether that means holding my hand through a heart-melting forest stroll, or holding my head beneath freezing water until my lungs burst. Panegyric didn't indulge me with either. Instead I found myself sitting in a train car next to Larry Mann, both of us gazing out the window. Most of my time was spent peeking at his journal, but every once in a while we would look up to see the enormous snow-capped peak off in the distance. Montblanc danced the line between motif and personality, his mystique and charisma triggering my hunger for more. The more I got to know him, the more my hunger blended with repulsion, and I was masterfully guided into wearing the same shoes as Larry Mann. Panegyric is a journey tightly contained, yet I found myself ensnared by the vivid ramblings and imagery. The 'protagonist', Larry, wasn't the medium between the reader and the story, nor was he even an engaging character. He was, however, the company I had in that train car; offering insight and even strength as the author mercilessly re-routed our train towards the looming white mountain.