A review by annepw
Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon

3.0

I want to be clear: I love Michael Chabon. More specifically: I hero-worship Michael Chabon. But oh man does the man need an aggressive editor for Telegraph Avenue. For the first one hundred pages or so it was pure loyalty (both to Chabon and the person who gifted me the book) that kept me from putting it down in favor of something less completely exasperating. He's a phenomenally gifted writer but he runs away with himself here to the point that I found myself rereading the same passages over and over, grasping fruitlessly for some fraction of a clue to what was going on. It kills me to say it, but it was a chore. He does eventually get a hold on himself, and by the end of the book I was invested and happy to press on, but TA really needs someone with a red pen and an itchy trigger finger. Excess, thy name is Chabon. But hey, still a fun summer read. Give it a hundred pages--you'll never love it as much as a Yiddish Policeman's Union or Kavalier and Clay but it's (eventually) a good time.