I love a good Peter Carey book: original and fascinating stories, lusciously descriptive prose and characters bursting with wit, drive and vitality. This, I felt, was not one. Okay, by most people's standards it is excellent. My copy tells me that it won the 2001 Booker Prize, so they all thought it was great. Perhaps my expectations are too high. Oscar and Lucinda was fantastic, but not as good as Illywacker. Similarly, 'Kelly Gang' is good, but not as good as 'My Life as a Fake' - to my mind classic Carey. While the story is thrilling - Carey elaborates on original Kelly letters to retell the original Aussie legend - the prose does not grab me like most of his work. There are passages in his other books that force me to read them repeatedly because they are so enjoyable. I did not find anything like that in this book. Perhaps I need to be Australian to fully appreciate the voices that he gives to these household names and events, but even so I would be happier if Carey had given us a little more of his magic. Great, but not as great as great Carey.