I was very impressed at first. But it was really the mask that was impressive, using that intimidation to cover a vulnerability with the protection of both emptiness and threat. We need to win, to defeat the other and to avoid becoming the other against whom someone else will win. But it's all just a game; the boundaries between us being porous to anyone willing to notice. But without boundaries, you can't tell a winner from a loser.

The boundary once known as the Berlin Wall was the source of wealth to the "whale" whom the protagonist initially targets as a source of income until the tumorous growth he'd developed to keep the outside at bay becomes nearly fatal. He is saved by his enemies and returned to his childhood, until the same boredom that is the reward of those who can control everything seeps out of the book and engulfs the reader. To his surprise, he ceases to care what happens to the protagonist or to anyone else. It turns out life was never a game of chance to begin with--that the mask of clever writing can't hide the emptiness within. When the gambler once again returns to inhabit his roll, its glamour is absent and we are surprised it was ever there; but others are still finding it a source of wonder and I, the reader am left to wish I had never fallen for it in the first place.

I could give this book 2 stars or just 1, but that would just be spiteful--an attempt to hide my initial fascination of which I am now embarrassed.

It's too late now for me, though you may still have a chance. Imagine I am offering you the doubling cube. Turn it down. Go read Motherless Brooklyn again instead.