Again, I love Fowles' prose, but part of this book felt like wading through azure pudding in a chemical fog. The big questions (for me, at this time in my life) seemed answered or perhaps just not that damn important. It was smart, but the magic was gone, burned off, disappeared. I should have tried it all on sometime before I turned 30. But looking back, they just don't seem to have the same magic or mystery for me. Carried, dog-earred, and flashed between the group to communicate their fealty to a group, game or club. These are books that become fetish items.
These are books that indeed can be considered literary (except for Ayn Rand), and have some form of magic buried within them that attracts the 20 y/o literary set. I'm thinking of most of Tom Robbins, Chuck Palahniuk, JD Salinger, Ayn Rand, and Camus (to a certain extent). But reading 'the Magus' reminded me of those novels one reads, and are far better read, when one is a nubile Freshman in college or a precocious HS Senior. I loved 'The French Lieutenant's Woman' and really, really liked 'The Collector' and there were many parts and many scenes from 'the Magus' that I really, really liked and even loved. I felt like I've already spent far too much time being frustrated by the many curves, mysteries, deceptions in this book. So now that you've scrolled down, let the game begin. One of the best novels that I really think I hate.
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