Usually I hate reading books with 'international best seller' plastered all over the front (I know I'm a snob), but I just didn't care with this one. It is so beautiful, so cruel, so slow - you get to see every side of a moment with complete lucidity throughout. My only main gripe is that I think it was over-egging the pudding a bit to have the cannibal AND the castrate AND the communists - had the communists not been in it it still would have served as an ample reflection of the horrors of that kind of extremism. But, still, amazing amazing. So well-written. So affecting.

Especially amusing, but one I think I'll have a lot more to say about once I've started studying it.

Wowzers in my trousers, the writing style was fantastic. However, much of the four out of five is because of that; I was interested in the characters, particularly Estha, but I didn't really care for them much. This reminded me a lot of One Hundred Years of Solitude - somewhat cold, removed; a worthy observation of humanity but not entirely human itself.

MAGIC. LOVE. LOVE.

When I first read this, aged fifteen, I was really impressed, particularly by the oral rape scene in the second story, which rendered me speechless. However, I found little in it upon re-reading five years on. The only thing about this book that interests me is its grossness, and I could get that from several sources that wouldn't also subject me to a depressingly flat writing style.

Amazing. Isherwood writes with subtlety and flair. Touching, hilarious, painful, very interesting.

o_O

Basically, Robbins uses so many similes that their multitude negates any delight that could have been experienced as a result of any. The ending is just shit. There are a few entertaining bits, but they are ruined by the superior tone of the narrator. Also, the 'intellects' weren't challenging in the slightest; I don't know if this was intentional, or if Robbins doesn't quite have the grasp on academic issues he thinks he does. Also, did not give a shit about any of the characters.

Deserves a five. Some lovely bits, but overwhelmingly dull/trying so hard to be quirky and touching and blah. I LOVED The Hotel New Hampshire; every John Irving I've read since seems to palely imitate the joy that gave me. However, I really respect the attitude to women expressed in Irving's work, and the exploration of issues of gender and sexuality. It's just a pity that, once again, I didn't really care for the characters, or their 'oddities'.

Um ... well. I was kind of bored for the first two thirds or so, wondering when it would pick up and why Iain Banks thought I'd be freaked out by a child killing people (which, for whatever reason, I wasn't, really). Then the whole baby thing happened and someone told me there was an amazing twist so I got a bit excited/grossed out - that hospital scene was written very well, really liked how Banks puts off and puts off the crucial detail until the very end of the explanation, even describing what happens afterwards beforehand - very frustrating, very engaging. However, I didn't find the twist that amazing. I mean, I realise the lack of respect for personhood Frank's father showed was awful, but that had already been demonstrated earlier in the novel, and I suspect that that particular expression of the father's lunacy was chosen largely because Banks presumes transgender issues have some deliciously grotesque freak-factor. Well, they don't. Transpeople [tend to] have unimaginably painful lives and I was a bit pissed off that Banks saw fit to warp this frankly heartbreaking issue and exploit it in order to shock people.

Also, how in fuck's name are we supposed to believe that Frank went his whole life without realising he had a cunt?!

I'm giving this a three, but out of ten I would give it five.

Not half as good as Myra, but not bad. Some clunkiness, but also lots of that precise bitchiness I so love Vidal for. Ending continues to disturb me - rape scene very well written.