This is the most amazing, poignant novel I have read in as long as I can remember. Literally. I have never cried so hard at the end of a book as I did with this one. Phenomenal, beautiful, perfect. I love it.

I liked the introduction, but I thought the question-answer format a bit tedious. I didn’t make it all the way through.

This is really different from the other Magic books I have. Its written from a very academic point of view, which I find interesting. I often think of my Magic books as pretty incompatible with “acceptable” academic discourse, but this book seems to bridge the gap pretty well. But now here’s the question: is it too academic? In deconstructing magic so utterly and so coldly (yes, it is cold), does the author not, in some ways, destroy that which is, er, magical about it?

Anyway…still reading though, so we’ll see how it plays out.

After the first section on his Golden Dawn years, the book gets a little slow. I found the info on the magical societies interesting, but I really don’t feel any closer to Yeats or his literature. Pretty disappointing. Still moving through it though…slowly.

I keep starting this and then get sidetracked. The intro is great so far, but I can tell it will be a slow-mover. Incredible detail and humor…this’ll stay on my “consuming” list for now…

Honestly, I was bored and disappointed. Nowhere near as good as The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Made me stop reading the series…but perhaps I’ll return to it later.

Read it in a night. Liked it a lot. A bit too Christian for me, but that didn’t stop me from bauling my eyes out at the end. Something about children, the world of the imagination and good social satire gets me every time.

Beautiful, exciting, couldn’t put it down. I’m definitely reading the next in the series.

What is the connection between language and numbers? Between pictures and words? How do our minds make sense of the many symbols, structures and impressions with which it is dealt every day? This story is told through the eyes of an autistic boy as he tries to solve a murder. In this book, the author makes us feel every sensation, see every color and hear every noise with a heightened sensitivity. We learn to ascribe far more meaning to the color yellow and how it makes us “feel.” In the end, we learn who committed the murder, we learn a lot about autism, and we learn a lot about ourselves, the nature of love and emotion, and the fascinating way in which our minds “play detective” on a daily basis. This might sound dry or academic, but that’s probably because I am, not the book. I cried like a baby.

A beautiful multi-perspective narrative with an act of illicit sex as its driving force. Taking a page from Freud and Leda and the Swan, McEwan asks how the repression of sexual desire can shape us personally and culturally, psychologically and politically. McEwan’s ability to narrate this story through the questionably innocent eyes of a nine-year-old girl, and a collective society torn by the ravages of World War is utterly entrancing. You will wonder, you will learn, you will think, and you will bawl your eyes out at the end. Just the way I like it.