The most-hyped debut novel of 2008 begins well for us but badly for its hero: his car runs off a cliff, and he gets burned over most of his body. His face melts into a monstrous scar. He is in chronic pain. His penis has been amputated. His life is over. He is a "spent, struck match."
Before the accident, the nameless hero of Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle (Doubleday; 468 pages) was a freakishly handsome, drug-addicted porn star who was also, deep breath, an orphan and a misunderstood genius who secretly wrote poetry. This is what Brits call overegging the pudding....
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