My first one-star review! If ever there was a book written for the sake of writing, totally aimless, plotless and soulless, this is it. I haven’t read any other books by David Lodge and I may be doing this author a great injustice, but this particular book looks like he may have written it because he either didn’t have anything better to do, or it was required by contract and he didn’t really care how well it would do, once published.
I cannot believe an author of so many ‘traditionally’ published books, by which we all are led to understand ‘approved’, ‘of high quality’, ‘unmissable’ even, can write such tedium! It may seem harsh, because the mere fact that someone manages to take a novel through to an end of sorts should, at the very least, receive some recognition. Well, that’s the one star I managed to stretch to! And it’s published by Penguin! What were you thinking, guys? Authors like these are commercial suicide – no wonder you can’t afford the staff and time necessary to uncover new talent!
To summarise: long, awkwardly-constructed sentences, interminable paragraphs that often stretch longer than a page, bland descriptive and sparse dialogue weigh too heavily to save what could have been a moving, emotional journey through late adulthood. Pity. I’ve read and reviewed much more readable self-published authors – you know, the kind Penguin wouldn’t waste a look at!