The first two chapters of the book were great. After that it became clear that the authors views on various tennis players were based purely on his own conservative values.
If a player expressed left wing views they were a 'loony', yet a player who expressed right wing views was 'misjudged'. Female players were 'goaded into homosexuality by lack of moral fibre on the tour'. And he seems to feel that players cannot succeed without a belief in god.
Kept his personal politics and judgements out of otherwise interesting anecdotes.
This is my first one. He is a fine narrator.
Some nice anecdotes. It didn't hurt, as an Australian, that the author gave Pat Cash a lot of credit, particularly for his Davis Cup performances. Beyond that this book was a struggle.
The author taking a carrot out of his lower most orifice!
No. Thank goodness.
A few one off lines were humorous, but that's about it.
How apt that a book about great books should be the worst book I have read all year. This is a pompous, pernicious, and pernickety book. Stemming from the author's early midlife crisis, he seems to feel that he can read a lot of books and lecture everyone else on what makes a great book. Well, Mr Miller, your book was my 90th this year. So as that instantly gives me more authority than you let me lecture you. STOP. JUST STOP!
Like the initial reviewer, this is more a review of the reader. This may be a brilliant book but the reader is horrible. I gave the book an hour and a half before I could no longer stand it. The problem? He's so old fashioned and narrates the book as if it is Jane Austin. This is a modern day crime novel and I felt as if I was in the Victorian age. Oh well, lesson learned, I shall be avoiding this reader from now on and I suggest others do the same. Unless it is a classic novel, he'd be ok with those.
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