Robertson Blossom welcomes Caroline Woolfit, a non-smoking vegetarian and wannabe new age traveller into his smoking and meat eating Brighton household. Her new housemates – drum roadies and gay pensioners – have stories of flying babies, reefer madness and Antarctica to tell.
I only got as far as page 30 of this book. Story-wise: it is crazy, eccentric even, and not that believable. That said, that was not the problem. The story follows Caroline, a sensible second year student at Sussex University as she moves into a shared flat, where they are most interested in her stereo. Her house mates are bizarre. They like drinking and taking drugs and gambling. My impression of them was just that they were crazy.
My problem with this book was the language. While I don’t like reading about drugs and sex, I can deal with it. What I didn’t like was the swearing, and the frequent use of the c-word. Maybe I’m just an old-fashion prude but I didn’t like it so I have stopped reading this book.Share on Facebook
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