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    <name><![CDATA[Alex]]></name>
    <location><![CDATA[Brooklyn, NY]]></location>        
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  <date_added>Mon Nov 09 13:39:02 -0800 2009</date_added>
  <date_updated>Mon Nov 16 05:41:55 -0800 2009</date_updated>
  <read_count></read_count>
    <body><![CDATA[Kate Christensen's The Epicure's Lament is a thoroughly entertaining read. Though there isn't much in the way of narrative thrust or, frankly, any terrific resonance, the narrator's erudite biliousness is a scintillating treat. <br/>Ensconced in an ancestral upstate manse and fortified with family-derived funds, he is committed to a solitary existence and intent on an early demise. Hugo continues to smoke profusely even though it exacerbates- to the point of fatality- a diagnosed medical condition. To counter the chronic pain, he adheres to a strict regimen of alcohol and Oxycontin, as well as the occasional diversionary sex.<br/>Complications to his agenda arise however when a flurry of events deposits his just separated brother, a distant wife and possible daughter, and &quot;Fag Uncle Tommy&quot; at his door. Then there is his sister-in-law, the brother's mistress-to-be and her possibly pedophile husband, and Schlomo/Pete Stravinsky- the hit man. The isolationist policy becomes a bit untenable.<br/>Fortunately, Christensen resists the temptation to soften the character's resolve, and have him- definitively at least- swayed by these increasing interactions. There's a slight trace of a certain newfound spirit of family connectivity, but nothing unpleasantly warm and fuzzy. She doesn't jettison Hugo's nastiness or disdain for sentimentality.<br/>The conclusion, though not wholly satisfying- whether one hopes for either emphatic Light or Dark- is perhaps in actuality how life ultimately is, unresolved.  ]]></body>
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