I'm beginning to wonder if John Irving is a writer writing about a writer who writes his own experiences, and if these experiences are actually John Irving's. It's all very confusing and I don't believe this because I doubt Irving's twisted imagination, but only because he seems so focused on this point. Will finish this up later today.
This book is interesting but lacks the addictive qualities of a truly fantastic book. My every waking moment is NOT haunted by suppositions as to what will happen next to the characters... disappointing, but I will carry on.