Monday, February 4, 2008
The Ginger Man
It was The Ginger Man , number 99, that first stymied my reading quest over the summer. This is my second stab and the going's not much easier. I'm becoming convinced that these allegedly riotous sexcapades of the postwar era are not made for the woman reader. They're all (and I'm thinking too of Roth, Lucky Jim) contemporary enough for the misogyny to date very poorly, and the hilarity is escaping me completely; I have yet to crack a smile. Granted, I'm only on page 35.