I soooooo wanted to love this book like I loved "The Night Circus." I soooooooo want to support a novelist trying to follow up on her massively successful debut -- that has got to be so hard.

But about 200 pages in, I realized I really didn't care much for any of the characters. 300 pages in, I was ready to quit. The choppy narrative style, fuzzy character development, etc. were seeming more like a self-absorbed conceit.

Still, I was pretty sure if I stuck it out, the method to the madness (and long stretches of tedium) would be revealed. So I do respect and understand her ideas. And the paean to books throughout is lovely.

But.

I wish I had not discovered the connection between the story (-ies) and computer gaming, other than the mention early on that the main protagonist was a game creator in grad school (no spoiler here, not a big thing.). Because yeah, in the last quarter or so of the book, it feels like I am acid tripping in Leisure-Suit Larry or Space Quest.

I respect what she was doing. I bow to her HUGE artistry with words. But in the end it felt like an exercise in style over substance: affected and self-conscious. And desperately in need of a dispassionate, ruthless editor.

Glad I finished it, but a bit sorry I will never get those hours and hours and hours of my life back. I adored Night Circus, but can't in good conscience say more than huh. Well, alllll-righty then.

Final verdict: so terribly sad to say a hot mess of "Meh.."