I can see why some readers find the middle section long and somewhat boring. Part II is probably the best section of the novel--reminds me of Elizabeth Bowen and Anthony Powell at their best. Powell is probably the better comparison, with his multi-generational structuring, and in so comparing you can see why readers get frustrated: the book feels as though it should be much longer. The game of trying to guess which characters are the same characters from the preceding part, and how the new characters connect with the older characters, gets a little tiresome. Still, I thought it was an excellent novel. Not, by a long shot, nearly as good as "The Line of Beauty," but I'm certainly glad I read it. ( )

A strange, melancholy book redeemed by some of the most nuanced descriptions of commonplace feelings I've ever read. ( )

In the first part of this book, in the 1910s before the first world war, Cecil, a poet, arrives to visit his friend George and his family—his mother, brother Hubert, and sister Daphne. Out of the visit comes a poem that later becomes famous, initially written in Daphne's autograph book but probably written George in mind. What follows in the later parts is the afterlife of Cecil, who died in the war, with a fancy memorial at the family estate and collected poems edited and published by a friend. Generation after generation, new people find themselves interested in him and try to understand what he was actually like, but ways to getting to that are increasingly difficult. People only know their own stories, didn't want to know, didn't have the words, made their memories into stories they were comfortable sharing, put their papers and photos away and forgot about them. At the end, there are only maybes and theories and speculation, a tantalising gap that just cannot be filled. For me, this aspect was the most compelling thing about the book, the characters much less so. ( )

I enjoyed this a lot, the kind of layered structure I enjoy. This novel shifts in time and protagonist, from the turn of the 20th century to its end. The unifying story is that of a poet, Cecil Valance, and we see him through the people who become infatuated with him and his works. Cecil is young, handsome, talented, and aristocratic. A poem he writes in a young girl's autograph album becomes an emblem of English pride, one that every schoolchild reads. In each era, gay men are the main characters (though there’s a hint a some lesbians) and we see how the furtive relationships of the 1900s move to married characters in the 80s. There's also a strong woman, the girl with the autograph album, whose life touches everyone in the story in one way or another. ( )

I was seriously disappointed in this novel after the brilliance of The Line of Beauty and The Swimming Pool Library by the same author. However, Hollinghurst has produced some sub-par books before, namely The Spell and The Folding Star, both of which left me cold. So, if you've heard great things about this author and been let down, maybe try one of the prize winning titles.

This book is predicated on the odd idea held by British authors that just about everyone who died in World War I was gorgeous and gay. Cecil Valance is an aristocrat poet who goes off to war after having an affair with his university friend, George. We follow the fortunes of both George's family and Cecil's from Cecil's first visit to Two Acres - the decidedly middle class patch of Sussex (or something) where George lives with his family - right up to the present day.

The parts of the book set closer to the present day work much better than the historical sections. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a very good 300 page book somewhere in the 600 pages that I was forced to read. Hollinghurst's prose is as good as ever in parts, but again seems to lose its force on occasions. I can't presume to guess what the creative process is like for someone like Hollinghurst, but I suspect that he had started to lose interest in this story when it came to the editing phase.

And as a final complaint, the novel spends far too much time with gay characters who are in the closet. I understand that this was the reality of the time, but in 2011 I want to read stories about openly gay men (if I'm going to read about gay men) living their lives, not closeted men who are half living.

Having said all that, I eagerly anticipate Hollinghurst's next book, as when he's good, he's very very good.
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