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• Richard W. Kopperdahl, your review of the book is from a sample? Well, if that's the standard . . . . In the first third of the book, Padgett Powell displays genius in his use of the English language. I don't care that it has less plot than an average episode of "Seinfeld" -- the book is so hilarious I had to quit reading it before bed. "Seinfeld," on the other hand, I can watch without the smiles and giggles engendered interfering with my beauty sleep. I'm looking forward to continuing the read. Oh, wait. Richard W. Kopperdahl, your 3-star review was actually about the book's marketing? It made you look, didn't it?

• It's Waiting for Godot…but without Godot. Or should I say, even less Godot than the original play? As there isn't even a promise of Godot but, at best, a trip to the liquor store in an orange jumpsuit. This lack of drive for the two porch-dwellers in Powell's new novel can, and does for a little bit, make the forward motion of this book a little vacant, but Powell gifts us in the best moments with the kind of Barthelme-like mastery he's certainly earned. Be ready for a total lack of narrative, and long stretches of unattributed dialogue. The exchanges are funny, blistered at times with utter sadness, and they certainly follow their own logic as well as a great ear for language, the words that pop up that become pursuits of logic, so overall I was won over and stuck through pretty well to the end, which is indeed an end. Have a feeling there won't be too many others who share my view.

• What if this author, who used to be pretty good, you know, now could only write a book that is an inane conversation between two old geezers about pretty much nothing? You mean theoretically? No. Oh. That's sad. Yes, it is. But aren't there any good points? I'll bet there are some good blurbs, right? One blurb compares it to Nicholson Baker. Meaning a book about nothing, or where nothing really happens? The Mezzanine? Yes, except in The Mezzanine there is quite a lot of interesting stuff. Like? What the ends of shoelaces are called. What are they called? Aglets. Cool. That is interesting. No, really, you know what I mean. You read the damned thing. That wasn't Baker, that was Bierce. I was speaking figuratively. Huh? Never mind. I'm the one who just had to read 190 some-odd pages to turn up only a few memorable phrases. Other than that, it's mainly meaningless wordplay and moaning about growing old. I could moan about that. Not for 190 some-odd pages. Probably not. What about the few memorable phrases? Well, let me see. There was something about telling Charon, "Take me down to Funky Town, my man." I'm ROTFL. You're not. Next. "Failure is to success as water is to land." I'm on an island myself, surrounded by failure on all sides. Don't look at me like that. I'm not telling you the rest. Actually, as I look at them on my Kindle, they really aren't that profound. Do you feel like reading the book was largely a waste of time? Yep. So should I read it? Nope. Shall we have a drink now? More than one, my man.

• Not a horrible idea, but as a send up of Waiting for Godot? I admit bias, I think Beckett's play is the best play ever written, it reveals you to yourself. For another slant, the play reminds us of the emptiness of our petty lives, made worse by being tinged with hope. A modern take is best described by another novelist: 'We keep waiting for something Shakespearean to happen, when most of the world is just an annex to the Jerry Springer show. Squalid. Cheap. Mean-spirited.' Disciple Manning, Disciple of the Dog, R. Scott Baker

• I am sure this is a book that a lot of people would like, but I had a hard time getting into it. It is a conversation style between two old men and sometimes I couldn't tell who was saying what....really did not matter because it was a little like the old Abbott and Costello routine, "Who's on First". It was very funny in some spots. As a rule, I never say a book is not worth reading. If an author puts forth the effort to write down thoughts, 99% of the time there is something of value or interest in it for many people. But this book just wasn't for me.

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