Gorgeous, gorgeous gorgeous. Hope this book gets crazy press and acclaim. Chabon brings his A game sentence after sentence. Manages to not only write about the way music sounds in a compelling way, but in a beautiful way. Only flirts a little with the Chabonesque tropes; real-world Obama makes a brief appearance (book is set in 2004), and there's the requisite young gay man. 90% of the main characters are black; wonder if there'll be any flak about that. Shouldn't be. It's a messy book, artfully so; freewheeling ornate language and a small story about a small community (used record shop in Oakland is the hub of the story). A feast for the lexical brain. Sounds, smells, tastes, all pop off the page like it's in four dimensions. Would say more, but I've got to work through my unequivocal affection for this book before I can be specific.

Sidenote: wasn't nuts about Kavalier and Klay, but I was also 16 or so. Loved Wonder Boys. Might have to give Yiddish Policeman's Union a try.