read: a bowl of cherries.  seldom do i find a book that is written in the way i like reading; this beauty is a rare exception.  intellectual without being lofty – mired, in fact, in the muck of the world.  the last fifth of the book is a little disappointing: the plot needs to be resolved, and without the languor of the rest of the book the charm quickly falls away.  still, i’m glad i found it.  (as many others must be – it took the new york public library several months to free up a copy for me.)