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Turns out it wasn't Doctor Sleep which induced my narcolepsy.
Filth, Irvine Welsh had the same effect. I took it to Luton for my hospital appointment and woke up in Ivinghoe, terrified I'd missed my stop (which we wouldn't arrive at for 45 minutes)
Thought I'd read it - I've been a Welsh fan since Trainspotting (the book - though I adored Danny Boyle's take on it.)
But despite some complex plot machinations I was bound to forget anyway, I did not remember any of the big reveals either, so I guess not. My payday treat next week is going to see the fillum. Dr R laughed at that. By all acounts it is absolutely Filthy. But then I've spoken to peepes who weren't even able to finish the book.
On The Sacred Book of the Werewolf by Victor Pelevin. I'm reading it in translation of course - only one person on this board fluent in Russian that I know.
It's supposed to be multi-layered and allegorical. I think I'll have to reread. Am far too fascinated by the life of a Taoist 2000 year old fox working as a prostitute to bother with a subtext right now, although there is nothing graphic. 'Spect I'm taking in more than I realise anywhay.
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