I am still not sure how I feel about Norman Rush's Subtle Bodies but the fact that I am still thinking about it a month after I expressed similar doubts should be a pretty good indication that is it a book worth reading. Norman Rush himself is 80 today, which is a remarkable achievement in and of itself. Who cares what a bunch of idiots say about his book? He's done 79 full [...]
I am someone who is no longer well-disposed toward most literary fiction, having reached an age where there is very little left for me to learn about life from every fucking arrogant introvert who thinks the made-up people into whose mouths he puts platitudes and funny things he once heard someone else say are interesting enough that total strangers will devote hours of their day to spending time observing a pretend universe that is probably just as boring as the one from which they are attempting to divert themselves with a book. I mean, it's fine when you're in the first flush of youth, but the reason most people [...]
"tiresome," "eye-rollingly awful," "preening," "self-absorbed," "dolorous," "solipsistic," "narcissistic," "ridiculous," "irritating," "pretentious," "cloying," "baffling," "portentous," "insufferable," "flimsy," "not remotely funny or compelling," "claustrophobic," "totally annoying" —I kind of thought Norman Rush's Subtle Bodies was pretty good, but I guess I was wrong.
In case you found this assessment of Norman Rush's Subtle Bodies to be woefully inadequate—and it was; even woefulness wrote us asking not to be associated with such a sorry review—here are some more comprehensive considerations. For what it's worth, as someone who expressed a certain amount of ambivalence about the book in that terrible non-review, the characters have stayed with me longer than most usually do, so if that at all influences your purchasing decisions it is a nudge in the "buy" direction.