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Feb 11, 2016talltimt rated this title 4 out of 5 stars
What a superb debut (2000) novel! I want to call it hilarious, but it delivers no knee-slapping guffaws, just sustained satirical irony lampooning everything, East and West, from war and religion to the use of language, both academic (e.g. those “strange French men who think truth is a function of language”) and every-day (e.g. the ridiculous PC and bureaucratic manipulators of language: “Mr. De Winter, a Polish night watchman--that’s what he calls himself—his job title is Asset Security Coordinator)” to recombinant DNA technology. The story involves three families, often going back generations but focusing on the nuclear families that split apart like bombarded atoms: a middle-aged man of virtually no ability whatsoever who marries a 20-something, otherwise beautiful, half-breed Jamaican with no upper teeth; his best friend, a one-armed Pakistani waiter, his stupid shrew of a wife, and their twin sons who are as different as a London street thug turned religious zealot and a brilliant, Oxbridge-like, polite and charming would-be lawyer; and a “perfect” neo-hippy family of superior intellect, sophistication, and hospitality, the father being the gene manipulator and the mother a self-proclaimed, world-class gardener. As an example of her self-awareness and family insight, I quote: Mother: “But everybody loves [the obnoxious one of the twins], don’t they Oscar (her 5 y/o son)! It’s so hard not to, isn’t it, Oscar? We love him, don’t we, Oscar?” Oscar: “I hate him.” Mother: “Oh, Oscar, don’t say silly things.” That captures the relationship of these two family members as well as illustrating the mother’s blithe way of interacting with the world as she wants it to be, however false to reality. Still, we can’t help loving (most) of these idiots as they stumble through each others’ lives and laughing (or at least chuckling) all the way to an unfortunately unsatisfying conclusion. But how could the farcical story of such a weird mélange of boobs ever be concluded and remain within the scope of its satire? The book just simply has to stop, which is pretty much what it does, but we know that their story just keeps going . . . on . . . and on . . . and on.