Because of the fact that it was written at two different points in his life, it ends up feeling like it loses its soul after the first chapter.

It has not so much a plot as a series of events, each one seemingly crafted in isolation of the others and bearing no real importance. Almost as if you are being described scenes viewed from a train.

The author does a wonderful job is suspending disbelief by extending upon the familiar. He makes great leaps afterward that seem natural and eloquently fit within an unfortunately cavernous and heavy handed story.

The most phallic and homosexual thing I've ever read in my life, and I've read actual gay erotica

A classic that you've seen a thousand times before through the things that it has inspired.