Beware the Ides of March.
But also, beware the "instant classic" (The Washington Post).
This is a novel that I thought desperately tried to be a Great American Novel. Except it isn't great, and it isn't American (on the plus side, it's a novel). As I was reading it, I often had to remind myself that the book wasn't set in the American Midwest, but actually in Ireland. And when I thought the plot was getting almost incestuous, well, it got even more incestuous.
On the plus side, it was a pretty quick and almost effortless read. At times it was even quite pleasant, but between that and considering this one of the best novels of the last few years there's a big difference!
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