This is one of the most original stories I read in a long time -- more so because it was written in a conversational, non-preachy stream-of-consciousness which somehow involves the reader.
The book raises questions about Messianic possibilities and the excruciatingly painful stings of humiliations due to missed opportunities and lost chances. The book realistically investigates Michael Blasco's "gift" and how even the possession of such a gift can still make one lonely, wanting and unfulfilled. The author seems to know the nuances and ramifications of love in its glory and loss at its most heart-rending.
The book has a lot of heart and a wry sense of humor and it ended with wise authority. I thought the conjuring of Billie Holiday and Pablo Picasso were original (I had fun reading Billie's envy to Ella Fitzgerald and how Teddy Wilson hated her and quickened the tempo of "What A Little Moonlight Can Do") and inspired.
Although the vivid descriptions of same sex copulations are an acquired taste, one can't help but laugh at Ryman's descriptions and comparisons to animals. His perspicacity in observing humans and how their faces tell many telling things are what gave this book its deserved excellence and timelessness.