Title: Hours of Preciosity
Product review: At the risk of sounding like a philistine, I have to admit I was rather disappointed with this book and all the hoopla surrounding it. Cunningham fashions some pretty sentences, but his writing has neither the intellectual rigor nor the incandescent beauty of Woolf at her best. At its essence, this book is just another foray into the lives of sensitive bohemian types with the specter of AIDS looming ominously as a surefire means of eliciting sympathy and respect. Cunningham should concentrate on developing his own voice as a writer and not paying homage to writers who clearly outrank him.
Would you say this review depicts the product in a flattering or unflattering light?
