I read this book because Saul Bellow won the Nobel Prize in 1976. However, this book reminded me somewhat of Joyce's Ulysses in parts; then of Dicken's Bleak House in others, but unlike Bleak House, the lengthy digressions made my eyes start to glaze over. When I read Bleak House, Dicken's digressions or expansion of ideas were more pastoral and I would smile as I read the way he expressed a thought. Bellow reminded me more of the last chapter of Ulysses; goes on and on and at times it doesn't make sense. But every now and then a single sentence would stand out and I would stop and ponder the truth of it. A very, very long book when you are a reader that tends to read every word. Oh, also, for some reason, I really disliked the part of the book where Augie went to Mexico. Not sure why...

Great wriring. A lot of refernces to mythology which were mostly beyond me. Would like to reraed and look up the references. Some really good thoughts and philosophies about life when young and getting started on your own. ( )

I couldn't even get to page 100... The introduction of The Adventures of Augie March makes a claim for the "primary of feeling and of unsymbolic real life" depicted in the book. But the most beautiful thing about books is the fact that they offer either an escape from this "real life" or a different perspective of viewing or living it. Saul Bellow consciously decides to offer neither and makes a brave attempt at portraying the life of Augie realistically but, unfortunately, the result is not entertaining, educating, or interesting in any way; to me, at least. "I went to the bakery today. I stole some bread. Grandma scolded me." Sure, you can take those sentences and transform them into long paragraphs, embroidering the text with adjectives and adverbial phrases; it will look a great deal better stylistically, but it won't have any more meaning than the original. And that's exactly what Bellow seems to be doing. Describing in great detail and authentic style an extremely boring character and his extremely boring life. There's nothing sadder than an author blessed with the gift of writing but deprived of the power of imagination. ( )

The book (along with many others) was mentioned in Rampersad's biography of Ralph Ellison. Particulary relished details of growing up in Chicago before the War. Lyrical.

This was rough going for me -- I felt I should read some Saul Bellow an oft-mentioned American great -- and I thought this may be his best work. I sure hope it isn't his best. This is Augie's bildungsroman - a ne'er do well Jewish boy growing up in relative urban poverty in Chicago. His life's path takes many convuluted twists and turns as he becomes mixed up, "recruited," by a bunch of weird characters who try and mold him into their version of how one should be.

. . And these characters and their painful philosophizing is what drags this novel into tedium. I hated the lot of them, (with the possible exception of Thea and Caligula) and quite frankly - could not warm up to Augie either. I think the best parts of the novel take place in Mexico, where Bellow's writing is quite evocative of a decaying mysterious tequila infused, sombrero-wearing, lizard-scampering little town.

Augie is enigmatic -- part Woody Allen's Zelig, part Updike's Rabbit, part I don't know - Tom Sawyer - or some other charismatic, up to no good American boy. But you just can't warm up to him and his preposterous choices, and it is hard to feel empathy.

I guess one calls this style picaresque - and it is not for me. I think perhaps Bellow is a thoughtful, intelligent writer. He certainly peppered the novel with enough heavy historical, classical, Biblical allusions to sink a ship. But I could not get down with the utter randomness and seemingly pointless rambling found throughout this book.

Overall, occasionally enjoyable, but mainly a slog. A generous 3 stars, perhaps one of them for reputaion alone. ( )