Michael

I originally read the Tales series in the 80's. Some of this reading occured on city buses during my comute. I can remember bursting into laughter and turning redfaced on the bus. This book was certainly a return to old friends, a joyful experience. And a reminder that no matter how far we travel, we can always go home.

I just love a good drama. Have you ever seen Who is afraid of Virginia Woolf with Elizabeth Taylor. It is one of my favirite movies. Two hours of film, one night of time elapses, the movie barely leaves one room, and the dialogue is incredible.

OK so now to this book. The book is one of thoes go nowhere stories. It is all about the lives of a few characters. We are taken into their past to explain their present. After so many hour of listening we should be totally enveloped in their phycosis. But I was not.

The book just fell flat. It never quite made me squirm or feel for any one of them.

The only character that intrigued me was Bobby, a kinda "sex on a stick" guy, someone that everyone is drawn to with equal and intimate desire.

And even with Bobby there was just no real finish. Ya know what I mean?

A world without end, a story without end, it all seemed as if it would never end.

The story was entertaining. It was just to long and kept repeating itself as if it were a mini-series and each week we were caught up on the prior weeks episode.

Sometimes I felt as if I was listening to a work voice-mail. I wanted to hit "44" which speeds the thing up so that it sounds like the chipmunks, but ends the interminable thing.

Again the story was good and it did get me through painting the bedroom.

I can't honestly review the whole book. I only managed to get through the first hour of it before I decided that one hour of my life was enough (and probably too much) to give up to this insulting experience. I read the gospel according to Gore Vidal, which was witty, biting and everything one could want. This listening experience was juvenile and lacked all wit.