Lapvona

Still, she couldn't stand his inquisitiveness. Everything he asked her was a plea for affection. He didn't care for her, not really. He only wanted to seduce her by seeming to care, so that she would care for him. Children are selfish, she thought. They rob you of life. They thrive as you toil and wither, and then they bury you, their tears never once falling out of regret for what they've stolen.

Marek, the misshapen and pitiful son of of an abusive and self-flagellating shephard, learns that ascension is achieved not through religious servitude, but (as we knew all along) nepotism. But can anything fill the void left absent of a father's approval?

For the most part, a captivating, repulsive, absurdly humorous work of fabulist fiction. The first half pounds along, driven by shocking events and revelations (achieved by subtle, well-timed shifts between characters' perspectives), but the pace of the second half slows considerably—hijacked by the will and whim of Villiam, who holds the reader hostage at tedious dinner table conversations.

The conclusion brings a rush of change and resolution, but it feels disconnected, hurried, and lacks impact. I expected a neat and considered pay-off owing to the fable-like tone, but was left wanting.

Still loved it, though.