I liked this book better when it was called "The World According to Garp," "Widow For A Year," "A Son of the Circus," or any of the other books from which Irving as recycled themes, characters and plotlines to produce the same story over and over again throughout his career - though with more satisfying results than were found within the covers of this particular...
more I liked this book better when it was called "The World According to Garp," "Widow For A Year," "A Son of the Circus," or any of the other books from which Irving as recycled themes, characters and plotlines to produce the same story over and over again throughout his career - though with more satisfying results than were found within the covers of this particular book.
Don't get me wrong. This book possibly contains some of the best, most original and riveting writing that my favorite author has ever written ... in the first half of the book, that is. Like a modern-day Scheharazade, he draws the reader in with a hypnotic story line that aches with both sweetest hope and torturous pain. Then the second half is a mangled mess that feels like a sleazy, Euro-trash novelization of a imovie script written by Joe Eszterhas script (yeah, the guy who wrote "Showgirls"). All that was beautiful in the first half was poisoned by what came after it, so much so that the ending - which might have felt poetically beautiful if it had come at the end of the first half - was somehow damaged, leaving this reader disappointed and flustered.
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