He wasn’t supposed to be fixing modern fiction. Hobie dealt in the ancient, the veneered, the hand-carved. But this book was different. It had been dropped off by a woman who didn't leave a name, only a note: "It survived a flood. Make it whole again."
"You're obsessed with the repairs, Theo," Hobie’s voice rumbled from the doorway. The big man leaned against the frame, watching his apprentice with kind, knowing eyes. "Sometimes a thing is more beautiful for having been broken. The fracture tells the story." the goldfinch by donna tartt -little brown-
There’s a stolen masterpiece, a criminal underworld, a mysterious dying man (Hobie), and a chase across Europe. The plot moves —just not at a breakneck pace. He wasn’t supposed to be fixing modern fiction