The Slap.
Now, I'm no prude. I love David Sedaris, for instance. Engaging, provoking obscenity, erotic obscenity, obscenity that's a vital part of a story: bring it on. But I have never read anything containing so much boring obscenity as The Slap. I've given up in the face of an endless roster of narratively pointless swearing, hard-ons, breast-stroking, pubes, balls, bellies and holes, all associated with the most unsympathetic cast of characters I've yet had the bad luck to encounter.
Here is quick precis of some of the notable phrases of Chapter 1 [apologies in advance]:
sweet young cunt/piss/pervert/sluttish/slow, easy, delightful sex/thick limp cock/fucking lying prick/round, tantalisingly small buttocks/her insistent stare aroused him/he masturbated furiously/his cock was hard and he took one of her hands and placed it on his crotch/soft, spare bristles of Connie's cunt/stiffening, obliging nipple/fucked for ages.
That's Chapter 1. The rest of the book is the same, if not more incessant. Now, in the hands of some writers, this would read like pure poetry. But in the hands of this writer, it's just insanely dull. I'm left wondering how much plot would be left if you took all the shagging and dick references out. About enough to fill a couple of hundred pages, I reckon.
If it was just a bonk-buster, OK. But its cover describes it as 'one of the truly great novels of the new millennium', leaving me baffled and not a little depressed.
Am I alone? Or did everyone else love it?