2.5**

Harry March has lived on Quogue, Long Island for his entire life. In fact, generations of Marches have inhabited the house on the small Tennessee-shaped island in the middle of the creek. In late middle-age, he’s become quite the misanthrope, however, and somewhat of a hermit. His children are grown and gone, his wife left him, and now he’s alone with his Westie, Hector and the natural surroundings he enjoys. At least until multi-millionaire Lapham begins construction of his mega mansion just across the creek.

This is a satire about the excesses of modern America’s elite, and what we truly need versus what we want. As Harry engages in a war of words against his neighbor (not to mention his philosophical debates with the dog), he manages to skewer just about everything that defines “success” in our acquisitive world – luxury cars, high-powered boats, designer cuisine, and the “best, imported” whatevers.

The problem I had with the book is that I thought that Rosenblatt was trying too hard. Harry is too clever by half; he can never simply state his position he has to be erudite, witty, and bitingly sarcastic. And I got tired of Hector, the talking evangelical dog, pretty quickly. One of the blurbs praising the book is from Carl Hiaasen – himself, no stranger to the outlandish. But Hiaasen’s books work because they are populated by both over-the-top-ridiculous characters and normal human beings, providing contrast. Rosenblatt’s first novel doesn’t give us this contrast. Harry isn’t as eccentric as Hiaasen’s Skink, and about the only normal person he encounters is Dave (a couple of pages of dialogue nearly at the end).

There were some scenes that I loved, however. The young woman who comes to try to sell Harry a pool, and surprises him with her knowledge of Johnson, is one example. And I did enjoy how he weaved in a number of literary references (though I wondered if he was doing so just to impress us with his knowledge). Rosenblatt is a good writer; his memoir, Making Toast, about the sudden loss of his daughter and how he and his wife moved to help raise their grandchildren, was very good. I just didn’t warm to this effort.
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I found this book hilarious. The best thing was the depiction of the main character Harry March. I share some of Harry's worldview, but could also laugh at some of his obvious insanity. Topical, intelligent, and laugh-out-loud ( )

I understand that this is Rosenblatt's first foray into novel writing. I hope it's not his last! This satirical look at the Hampton's lifestyle is an absolute winner. Admittedly, I initially shied away from buying this one when I realized that a talking dog was involved (too gimmicky!?), but I decided to give it a chance. The protagonist Harry March and his side-kick talking dog are hilarious. The first couple of pages are slow, but after that, I didn't want to put this one down. On more than one occasion, I guffawed; I'm glad I was home alone. And the automobile-pedestrian accident rendered me prone with teary laughter. I'll be reading Rosenblatt's next novel, and the one after that as well. ( )