Three interweaved narratives populate Charles Baxter's "The Feast of Love." One involves Bradley Smith, something of a putz whose two unfortunate marriages (so far) ended badly: one wife leaves him for a woman, and the second leaves him for her long-time sex partner. That relationship ends badly for the self-absorbed cheating wife.

My favorite plot has to do with Chloe (pronounced clo-WAY). Chloe has outrageous sex with, and then marries, Oscar. A couple of months later the poor thing is widowed. Chloe has visions; she's quite young but has wisdom in worldly matters; she sees mystical things while high, but understands their import in the cold light of day. She undergoes the worst heartache in the book, but she emerges from it. She's a goddess - she even says so. You can't read this book and not fall in love with her. She's Venus with 21st century techno-patter.

"The Feast of Love" is replete with lessons: don't pick someone based solely on looks; don't blame the other person exclusively when he or she cuts and runs; don't settle; don't invest too much emotion in your partner; trust your local psychic.

This highly readable book will engage you with its characters. You will come away wiser and with an appreciative smile for the author. By all means, read "The Feast of Love." ( )

Charles Baxter's The Feast of Love was a finalist for the National Book Award in 2000 and has been made into an excellent film with Morgan Freeman. I've just finished reading the novel, finding it charming and moving. Rather than focusing on a single protagonist, Baxter coaxes together a wonderful ensemble of characters, each recounting his or her own amorous tale.

The unifying device is the notion that each character is speaking to the author, Baxter himself, as he seeks out people to tell him about their encounters with Cupid. Baxter is deft in creating the unique voice of each character, and perhaps he's at the top of his game with the character of Chloe, a latter-day flower child who broke my heart and then put it together again.

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Chloe experiences the extremes of sexual love--the ecstatic highs and the gloomy lows--the highs with her boyfriend and then husband, Oscar, and the lows as she is accosted by Oscar's father, whom the two kids call The Bat. While people like The Bat remain unredeemed, most of Baxter's characters are transformed and elevated by love. This is true even of Diane, whom we first meet as a cynical and predatory lawyer. Baxter is again brilliant as Diane's words reveal her inner being in ways that she herself does not fully understand--and as they slowly reveal her changes. One of Baxter's recent nonfiction books is called The Art of Subtext, and there is plenty of subtext to Diane.

Books like Baxter's (another is Thanksgiving Night by Richard Bausch) alter the traditional notion of the novel as the narrative of a single character's experiences--novels with titles such as Tom Jones, David Copperfield, Emma, and Daniel Deronda. The ensemble novel widens it's focus to show us how the stories of various characters mingle with and transform one another. These novels, it seems to me, have at their core the deeply ethical perception that in human relations there is no single, privileged point of view. Andre Dubus makes a similar point on a smaller scale when his short stories (or many of them) refuse to remain merely with one person's perceptions.

If the modernists thought it was careless craftsmanship for a writer to "violate" the one point of view established at the start of the story, writers such as Baxter, Dubus, and Bausch show us that it is a moral necessity to acknowledge various view points. ( )

very good - lots of change of voices - good character insight

For some reason I couldn't really get into this book. I suppose it's very well written, and there were a couple of very insightful passages that almost shook me awake, but ... meh. For one thing, I didn't think there was any justification or purpose as to why the author had inserted himself into the story, it just made it a little bit pretentious. The last chapter, "Postludes", should have been left out entirely; it's just this unneeded scrap of metatextual vanity. I'd have preferred it if there was a little less of the originality, in fact. The changing perspectives worked for me and I liked most of the characters, but the occasional artsy-fartsyness turned me off.

My problem wasn't the plot, per se. It was interesting enough and I thought it improved towards the end. The last real chapter was very nearly brilliant, actually. There was just something a bit clinical about it, or academic, maybe. Like the author was trying so hard to show all these different sides to love and ending up trying a little too hard. An older couple, check. An affair, check. Young love, tragic love, unrequited love, unconventional love, unconditional love, check check check. The lesbian storyline especially felt so ... must-not-discriminate.

Also, I was a little repulsed by some of the more creative, shall we say, expressions. "Woman rash", "mushroom sex" and being "fat with love" come to mind.

Final word: I liked the movie better. ( )

An interesting concept, but the characters and situations were not totally believable. Still, it was a good read. ( )