During the first half, this book felt as though Eugenides had left his oodles of research done for "Middlesex", read some of Donna Tartt's "The Secret History", some Bret Easton Ellis and really dissected and mulled over Jonathan Franzen's "Freedom".

The second half had more flesh, yet also more pulp.

At the same time, this book is very well-written, and by that I mean the author has a firm grip on rhythm, colouring his language and keeping parts suspenseful. Friendships and some love feels real.

On the other hand, I'll say it's a lot of research into biology - cells - which feels a bit asperger-ish. We get the metaphors; I think. It could have used a firmer grip and more editing.

Kudos to Eugenides for name-dropping "The Paris Review".