In my look at it, I said that this book;s immediate predecessor should have been titled Adolescent Self-Pity rather than Lamentations (although, to be fair, such a pretentious title really is quite adolescent), and wondered if this book, Consolations, would prove to be a companion piece to it.
It is, but unfortunately it’s a companion in the sense that it should have been titled Adult Platitudes. There is some meat on these bones – some statements here that (expressed more plainly at least) resonate with my own life experiences – but to pursue the meat metaphor (meataphor?), it’s a dry and bloodless kind of meat. (Some form of jerky, perhaps, which would be apt, at least).