1963. Ultimately I felt all the characters were too like his cartoon characters to succeed as a novel. The main character, Harry, is an extremely beautiful man whom everyone loves. He is also incredibly self-centered and shallow. Toward the middle of the book his looks begin to deteriorate and he begins to try to take an interest in other people. It wasn't plausible, so I think it was meant more as a parable. He tries to understand people, love, hate, but in the end he kills himself. I never felt like I understood where he was coming from. It seemed to be saying we can never know each other or we're all alone in the end or some other depressing message, but it was incoherent and it didn't sell its point. Amusing, but disappointing.

In his cartoons, which I really like, clever or pathetic people say poignant or witty things to each other, but they're really literally empty. I mean they're just outlines of people with nothing inside, cartoons. A whole novel of them is too much, but for a cartoon they're just right. ( )