I really enjoyed the writing, especially the physical descriptions of people which are always rather disgusting: 'Her teeth overlapped. Her eyeteeth were unusually long and pointed and wet'. Or, 'Mr. Pouchet had very full lips the color of raspberry ice when it's still in the carton, before it's licked lighter...' The book is six chapters, but really they are anecdotes that flit around different times during the narrator's adolescence, detailing his different encounters with men and boys, and his longing for love. They were all fascinating and brilliantly written, but don't add up to a structure that you could say had a beginning and an end. At one point, when talking about the stories that some friends of his tell him about their life, the narrator says, 'One passage, complete in itself but not yet oriented to the rest, would float wonderfully to its correct position on the board.' But I'm not sure White's passages did every float to their correct position for me, and that was frustrating. Also, I have to admit that I am a little tired of reading about lonely adolescent boys, who by their very nature are incredibly self-centred.