Paul Auster
Has its witty and insightful elements, but far too much of the book is the main character hearing stories from other people. The tales themselves go on to long, are frequently somewhat uninteresting, and ultimately don’t add up enough to enough to make the novel seem wortwhile. Small moments occasionally shine, but as a whole it’s shot through with an omniprescent, increasingly forceful flaw.
Worse than: City of Glass by Paul Auster
Better than: Solar by Ian McEan
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