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I have no idea why I ordered this book, but I'm pleased I did. A surprisingly amusing and at times hilarious (I lolled more than once) novel set in 1920s Ireland during the 'troubles'.
The situational hilarity of PG Wodehouse crossed with a historic seriousness redolent of Forster or Rushdie.
Imagine an ex-British army major bound, through accident and his own free will, to a labyrinthine hotel falling down around their heads and an ever mutating throng of cats. Throw in a tally-ho old landlord, a pack of doddery old ladies, a sullen waiter, and a country slowly pulling itself apart, and you've got quite the melting pot.
Structure a little lacking in the final third. I wasn't quite sure what the point of it was besides the continuation of preexisting jokes. If it had been 150 pages shorter it would've been a 5-star read.
The situational hilarity of PG Wodehouse crossed with a historic seriousness redolent of Forster or Rushdie.
Imagine an ex-British army major bound, through accident and his own free will, to a labyrinthine hotel falling down around their heads and an ever mutating throng of cats. Throw in a tally-ho old landlord, a pack of doddery old ladies, a sullen waiter, and a country slowly pulling itself apart, and you've got quite the melting pot.
Structure a little lacking in the final third. I wasn't quite sure what the point of it was besides the continuation of preexisting jokes. If it had been 150 pages shorter it would've been a 5-star read.