Weeelllll…. I really liked Rabbit, Run when I read it a few years ago. So I picked up this book, started reading it, stopped half way, and then skimmed the rest.
Why? Because the middle section got soooo tedious that it was making me angry. This may be a spoiler of some sort, but reading about Rabbit and company sitting around EVERY NIGHT, smoking weed and listening to Skeeter talk about how the white man is bringing the black man down is not my cup of tea. And what’s with the huge sections of book excerpts that they’re reading aloud?
I just decided I didn’t care what happens to Rabbit at this stage in his life. I may end up reading the last two books because they both received the Booker Prize, I believe, so they’ve got to be better than this one.
And, oh yeah – I don’t CARE about the many times he can’t seem to keep an erection. Way too much focus on this crap. Reminds me of Philip Roth or J.M. Coetzee. Maybe I just don’t identify with horny middle aged men.

Sorry this is so vehement.

Well, I’m only reviewing the first half of this book. That’s how far I made it before I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I understand that this book was progressive for the time it was written, and maybe I’m just not able to put myself back in that time and think about the impact it would have had on me then.
The main thing I noticed about this book is its negativity. Every character seems to be bitter and unhappy. Everyone is throwing around wry smiles and bitter laughter ALL THE TIME. Everyone is sarcastic, dry, and ironic (or “ironical”) ALL THE TIME.
The excerpts from the main character’s notebooks read in part like something I would write in my own ‘woe is me’ diary. No one wants to read that. I identified with her (Anna) at times, but most of the time I just wanted to tell her to shut up. There is no way that I want to read a character’s self analyzation for page after page after page.
Every character seems to hate every other character in some way, even if they supposedly ‘love’ them. Every thing is over analyzed, overly dramatic and unrealistic to me as a female reader in 2009.
I finally stopped after reading a conversation between the main character and her best friend’s 20 year old son. It was so unrealistic (what 20 year old would talk to a grown woman in this way, and what grown woman would let herself be talked to in this way….?) that I couldn’t go on. Not to mention that they were still wry, ironic, sarcastic and malicious throughout the whole conversation, for no reason that I could identify with or tolerate.
Sorry this review is so bad – this book just really rubbed me the wrong way. If you want to read a good book about strong women living on their own, check out The Women’s Room by Marilyn French.

This is a very engaging, touching and sometimes deeply sad book. I loved it! I actually read it in a week, probably because I enjoyed the characters so much, and, towards the end, there is a bit of suspense about a certain character that really makes you want to keep reading.

I am amazed that a woman wrote this, considering the main character and narrator is a middle-aged/older man. I was thinking the whole time that Siri (the author) was male, but no, she’s just incredibly insightful about people and their motives for doing the things they do.

It also personally helped me, because I realized that the symptoms of one particularly troubled character were the same as those of the last person I dated! Ha ha and… uh, NOT so ha ha too. :)

There’s no question that Salman Rushdie is a ridiculously good writer. However, I have to say that it took me a looooong time to get through this – well over a month and a half, when usually I can finish a book within a couple of weeks. Very well written book – fantastical, complex, entertaining – but also very wordy.

I also think reading this was a waste of my time. I didn’t identify at all with any of the main characters. Maybe when I get to be a 52 year old and grow a penis I will. Until then, I could hardly stand the protagonist, and his daughter’s behavior isn’t really ever explained satisfactorily. I’m not saying I need everything I read to be tidied up at the end, but I like feeling like there was a purpose in reading it, and I really gained nothing from this.

I was hooked on this within a couple of pages. Winterson’s writing style is definitely unique, sparse yet beautiful, and surprisingly informal. It seems closer to spoken English than prose, as if someone truly is just telling you a story.

And what a story! I loved the descriptions of Venice, a fairy tale world where anything and everything can happen – from people literally losing their hearts, to boatmen walking on water.

I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I picked up this book and read the entire thing in one sitting. (It’s 160 pages, so not an amazing feat.) I definitely recommend this. It’s totally engrossing and worth a second read for me, because of the beautiful writing style.