This is the sort of book I read very quickly just so it would be over. I didn’t like the protagonist, I didn’t like the concept, I wasn’t sure on the execution, and the writing was bland-to-excruciating. I get really hung up on things like writers talking about people ‘choking down’ something with great appetite. Like… what!? And limn as a verb?
Anyway, I sort of find the idea of taking off into the bush to kill oneself and make it look like a hunting accident, just so you don’t have to tell your family you have cancer or live through same… sort of repellant. Then there was all the hunting itself, the self-pity, and the war tales. Enh.