Solomon's Gold was dull. So, so dull. For any other writer, I'd give "dull" two stars. The novel is written in legible English and it isn't actively offensive. However, this is Neal Stephenson. He wrote *Cryptonomicon.* He wrote *Seveneves.* He wrote *The Confusion,* which came immediately before this novel in his Baroque Cycle. Neal gets graded on a curve. *The Confusion* combined Stephenson's love for the Dickensian with a fascinating tale about pirates, princesses, and stolen treasure. *Solomon's Gold* finds Stephenson giving full flight to his compulsion to describe, in excruciating detail, every neighborhood of Early 18th Century London - down to the last cobblestone. To leaven the dreariness, he distracts us with a tale about what a dick Isaac Newton was. This is not the stuff of which 5-star reviews are made. I feel like this book is an example of a writer getting too well-respected. Where was the editor telling him tighten things up, that his 300-page story could have been told in 125 pages, tops? Where were the beta readers, the friends and family who could have put a hand on Stephenson's shoulder and told him, "We love you, but this one's getting away?" Wherever they were, this book could have used them. I'm pressing on with the next book in the Cycle, but it has some amends to make.