Some books take longer than others to convince you of the world they have created, and this one was a little slower than most for me. I enjoyed and even flew through the first half of the book, but I kind of didn't fully believe it until the second half. The book reads almost like a fable from the beginning--not quite what I was expecting--and the main character's self-described "bumbling" was a bit off-putting at first. But once the plot--ahem-heats up, I really became immersed in this invented world, and I especially enjoyed the commentary/satire on reading, writing and books. By the end, I believed the characters enough even to be a bit heartbroken. In general, wonderful writing, great absurdist humor, and lovely commentary on what books mean to us. ( )

It has been over 25 years, since reading, "The Catcher in the Rye" in high school, that I have felt so utterly irritated by a main character.

I do not have to like a main character in order to enjoy a book. But this book did not even give me that, "wow, I really dislike this character, so that means that the author is at least making me feel something here," sensation. Not at all. I didn't like him, but worse, I didn't care about him, nor about any of the other characters.

Apparently (at least according to some reviews published on the book cover), some people have found the book "hilarious, delightful, funny." If there was humor, it went right past me.

The edition of the book I had included a mock interview with the author, by the author. I found it to be pretentious and annoying.

I was close to jumping overboard on this book several times, but alas, I chose to go down with the ship, and finshed reading it. In hindsight, I wish I had jumped. ( )

Bought this one because of the attractive cover and intriguing title. I am donating it to the used book sale at my children's school. Interesting concept - person wrongly (perhaps?) accused of arson. Annoying characters, frustrating plot. ( )

http://www.bookpage.com/0709bp/fictio... ( )

This book is very poor, I think, and I'll say why in a moment. But it is also worth saying that it is not irritating or depressing, because it is consistently witty and clever. And yet at the same time it's neither funny nor enjoyable.

I say that knowing that many readers who like the book find it "hilarious" or "very funny" (quoting from the back cover, although the same is said in these Amazon reviews). Here ia a typical example of what the author, and some reviewers, find funny:

"Other than those details, I know nothing about her, not even her name, although I think about her all the time, the way you do about people and things that change your life forever -- although I doubt she thinks about me, which is the way life works, which is why I am sure Noah couldn't ever stop thinking about his Flood, but once the water receded, I'm sure it didn't once think about him."

The book is replete with passages like this; there are examples on every page. That's why it's not boring. It's clever and witty, snide, arch, parodic, droll, and dry. But when I read passages like that, I do not laugh. I do not think they are delightful. I find myself wondering what kind of reader the author was imagining -- what kind of reader would be delighted by that kind of wit. An ideal reader would presumably be taken by the narrator's simpleminded reverie (this book owes a lot to "Forrest Gump"), and then surprised and amused by the way the reverie spins into absurdity. But what is the source of that delight?

I spent most of my time wondering about that. I think an answer would have to go something like this: at first, reading a sentence like the one I have quoted, we feel sympathy with the simpleminded narrator, the way we do with Forrest Gump. We are comforted, realizing the author really loves the character, and sees that in his simplemindedness there is also some wisdom. (That's the book's sentimental moral, which comes out at the end.) And we are doubly comforted when we realize we aren't genuises, either, and that in the end we may be more like this narrator than we might like to admit. He is one of the meek, who should inherit the earth, and in certain ways -- ways having to do with humility and a heightened sensitivity to truth -- actually do inherit the earth, even (or especially) if they end up misunderstood or even jailed, as the narrator does. (Think of "The Green Mile" or any number of redemptive jail dramas, where a misunderstood convict is actually deeply humble, or even supernaturally gifted.) But then why laugh at the end of the passage, the part about Noah? I think it's because we realize that bit really is silly. Having his narrator think about Noah and then personalize the Flood is obviously crazy, and so it is the author's way of permitting us to stay aloof, to reassure ourselves that we are better than the narrator after all.

If you think about these things, and ask yourself why passages like the one I have quoted are meant to be funny, then you will not enjoy this novel at all. But it will make you think about why so many dramas about mentally challenged heroes and unrecognized geniuses (think of "Slingblade," "Powder," "A Beautiful Mind," "Phenomenon") are so popular.

The book made me thirsty. I hope the next book I read has some real imagination in it, and not just an unending supply of relentless cleverness that seems to be harmless entertainment, but is really a sugar pill intended to make me feel better about myself. ( )