This book is a parody, as some reviewers did spot at the time. Its aim is to make educated idiots reveal themselves - i.e., if you can't see the joke, the joke is on you. A completely empty story, grotesquely over-researched and presented in unnecessarily long and over-wrought sentences, drowned in cliches and encyclopedic information largely copied straight off the sheet, garnished with sex scenes employing vegetable symbolicism galore, while the characters have no personality or development whatsoever and there is no actual plot or anything even remotely psychologically interesting going on at all. The male protagonist even wears the same swimming trunks and uses the same razor blades at the end of the story as he did at the start, twenty or thirty years previously, It's pulp fiction camouflaged dressed up as real literature, like so many best-selling novels have been over the last 30 years, which clearly cheesed off Updike and made him produce this deliberate trash in the extreme. Once you get what's going on (clue: a story built on the melodramatic Weltschmerz libretto behind Wagner's "Tristan and Isolte", but transferred to modern day Brazil!), it's actually quite funny in a few places, but all in all it's a very long drawn stunt and a waste of paper and time. I suppose at least the author can claim it did serve its purpose as a reminder to us all that the old Andersen story of the Emperor and his new clothes is still as relevant as ever, but for me the conclusion would be: read Andersen, don't read this.