Me blowing a raspberry while raising my downturned thumb. Why was this book shortlisted by the Booker?

I don't enjoy Tom Robbins and I guess I don't enjoy Rushdie for similar reasons (this is the first novel I've read by the author), although I understand his late work may be significantly worse than his early stuff. Maybe I don't appreciate the whimsy or maybe I bristle at a certain kind of irony both authors employ.

On one level I had a hard time taking any of the characters seriously. That made empathy difficult to come by which made reading a chore. On a deeper level I found many of Rushdie's conclusions and summations either trite or objectionable. A good friend brusquely described his disdain for the author when I mentioned this book and at first I thought he was being brash and unfairly dismissive but now I'm inclined to agree: he's too far up his own asshole.

Sorry, Salman Rushdie. Ya basic.