Deliciously gonzo and somehow sweet at the same time. Short and fast, perfect read for a snowstorm or long flight. Rock'n'roll wannabees in a Los Angeles that just barely predates cellphones, you can tell because everybody seems very of the moment (this moment) and yet they're always glancing at their answering machines to see if anybody called. I didn't really acquire this book; my husband runs some Little Free Libraries so there are always boxes of books in the garage, and the other day to my horror I had run out of novels to read, so I raided his backup supply. I'd never heard of this book, either. It found me and I seized it with the same desperation the characters in the book grasp and grab. My story worked out, as did theirs. ( )

YOU DON'T LOVE ME YET is the third Jonathan Lethem book I've read. He's written more than a dozen by now and has a cult following, mostly because of his novel, FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, which is indeed an amazing novel. I've also read his strange book, AS SHE CLIMBED ACROSS THE TABLE.

YDLMY is the story of a struggling alt-rock band in Los Angeles. Lucinda, 29, the bass player, is the central character, supporting herself at various jobs - coffee barista, then manning a phone where she encounters Carl, an older male caller she becomes obsessed with, and enters into a heated sexual liaison with. Then there's Andrew (Lucinda's former boyfriend), the lead singer who works as an animal tech at the zoo; Denise, the drummer, who clerks in a porn store; and Bedwin, the lead guitarist and songwriter weirdo. The band has no name, but one song, "Monster Eyes," almost, but not quite, represents their big break. But Carl, who forces himself into the band, claiming authorship of the tune, ruins it for them.

Its a fairly simple, yet complex, story, and kept me interested enough to read it all. There's a lot of sex, but it never seems especially obscene. Well, maybe some of it does. What I found a bit strange is that there are no back stories for any of the characters, no families mentioned, nothing of their childhoods. It's as if they have all sprung fully formed from their author's imagination, no explanations needed or offered.

I rather enjoyed the story, but probably won't remember it for long. But I do have a used copy of Lethem's other notable novel here, MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN, and will try to read that one sooner or later. This one? If you like odd characters and pop culture, liberally salted with sex, you'll probably like it.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER ( )

Somewhat smug account of a borderline woman aging out of being cool while grabbing at every man that offers hope of a future. Some beautiful writing but the comedy falls utterly flat, and the central conceit (rock genius and artistic genius in general) fails because Lethems fictitious lyrics aren't clever enough to sustain the weight the novel lends them. A mediocre if briefly entertaining airport novel. Perhaps an effort to get inside the mind of an ex girlfriend. ( )

Well that didn't work, did it?

I got so bored of the book halfway through that I had to stop and read Cat's Cradle. Even if you somehow manage to be a Vonnegut-hater, you'll find it way superior. It's disappointing. Motherless Brooklyn was part of my coursework in college, and I have good memories of that one, so stumbling upon another Lethem work after all these years should have been a cause for celebration.

The characters are uninteresting, nothing of importance seems to happen, and it's a slog to read. I can abide by unlikeable characters as long as there's a reason for them. There's no real reason for this or any of the random nonsense that happens. It doesn't matter if you pose the book as a romantic comedy if it's such a miserable, unenlightening read. You can suggest it's a parody, satire, whatever, but that just makes it seem mean-spirited and, again, without redeeming lessons. It's over the top and yet it focuses intimately on the details you don't want, let alone need, to know about. None of the fantastical events go anywhere, and yet you limp towards the ending where the main character ends up back where she started, devolved back into her miserable cycle of delusion and destruction. Is that supposed to be some sort of unconvincing metaphor for real life?

This may be the first time I've ever had the notion that I'd be okay giving one of my beloved books to the library for sale. ( )

Minor Lethem. Some fun stuff, feels like a pit stop between two more important books. ( )