David Leavitt

David Leavitt can't write. His sentences are ugly, his paragraphs even more so, and the hundred or so pages of this book that I read seemed to indicate that his structure is pretty awful too. The characters are unmotivated and unpleasant. The greatest problem, though, is that clearly none of it ever happened. The adjectives and adverbs are just put in for decoration, not to share with you what the protagonist really experienced. In one scene a delivery boy rings the bell and for some reason stands there "sheepishly" while he receives his money. It's like he has an alarm that rings every hundred words and he has to pop a descriptive word in; they're like speed bumps that prevent you from getting up any momentum in the novel.… (mere)

I always find it hard to review a two-star book, because the inevitable question is 'well why did you read it?' I read this because it was sort of hinted to me that Leavitt is a kind of American Alan Hollinghurst. However, his writing lacks the grace and style of Hollinghurst, and his characters lack the depth and complexity.

Essentially this is a book about miserable people written in lifeless prose. As a contrast, I'm reading Howard Jacobson at the moment, who writes about miserable people with sparkling, witty prose and it makes all the difference.

I did wonder as I read it if this book has just aged badly, and that at the time of writing it could get away with its dead prose and maudlin world view because it had political currency. However, there are many positive reviews on here, so I guess it just didn't provide that specific thing that separates my taste from that of many others.… (mere)