"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

He's pushing it, 30 Aug 1999
If I'd picked this book off the shelf having had no familiarity with its author, I have no idea how I would've felt about it. But I was already an enthusiastic fan of The Sot Weed Factor and some of Barth's earlier and later fiction when I read this one, and my knowledge of Barth's astounding narrative and comic capabilities made this book seem a little depressing. Now, I give it 5 stars with no qualms, mostly because of its originality and humor, but I still don't know exactly what to think about it. At the very least, it's something new (even 30 years later) and worth your time. For first-time readers of Barth, however, I strongly suggest The Sot Weed Factor. It isn't as self-indulgent or anti-novel as this one (not that those qualities are necessarily bad in the hands of Barth).

a 13 year-old's revelation of academic futility, 06 Aug 1998
the first review listed here was pretty good. too bad the web site is defunct. seeing only one review, i just had to be number two :)

... i dont remember how i happened to try to read this book when i was 13 back in 1970, it was probably lying around the farmhouse of my literary uncle. Dont remember much about it, but for some reason parts of it have stayed with me, the vision of literary gloss upon gloss recursing to the depths of infinity still surfaces in my consciousness occasionally. Read this about the same time as Vonnegut's 'Sirens of Titan', which, fwiw, was a more influential book for my emerging world-view, and somehow their themes seemed to overlap in visions of futility and complexity. This book probably made me lose any desire to pursue an academic career. Now, at the middling age when i read practically no nonfiction, and all my reading is work-related and hyper-technical, this is one of the nonfiction books i am pondering rereading, along with 'The B! oomer Bible', as examples of books i kind of dismissed at first reading but have somehow stayed with me, and which i feel may have some relevance for the work-aday phase of my life's journey.

Like the tide, Bath's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

He's pushing it, 30 Aug 1999
If I'd picked this book off the shelf having had no familiarity with its author, I have no idea how I would've felt about it. But I was already an enthusiastic fan of The Sot Weed Factor and some of Barth's earlier and later fiction when I read this one, and my knowledge of Barth's astounding narrative and comic capabilities made this book seem a little depressing. Now, I give it 5 stars with no qualms, mostly because of its originality and humor, but I still don't know exactly what to think about it. At the very least, it's something new (even 30 years later) and worth your time. For first-time readers of Barth, however, I strongly suggest The Sot Weed Factor. It isn't as self-indulgent or anti-novel as this one (not that those qualities are necessarily bad in the hands of Barth).

a 13 year-old's revelation of academic futility, 06 Aug 1998
the first review listed here was pretty good. too bad the web site is defunct. seeing only one review, i just had to be number two :)

... i dont remember how i happened to try to read this book when i was 13 back in 1970, it was probably lying around the farmhouse of my literary uncle. Dont remember much about it, but for some reason parts of it have stayed with me, the vision of literary gloss upon gloss recursing to the depths of infinity still surfaces in my consciousness occasionally. Read this about the same time as Vonnegut's 'Sirens of Titan', which, fwiw, was a more influential book for my emerging world-view, and somehow their themes seemed to overlap in visions of futility and complexity. This book probably made me lose any desire to pursue an academic career. Now, at the middling age when i read practically no nonfiction, and all my reading is work-related and hyper-technical, this is one of the nonfiction books i am pondering rereading, along with 'The B! oomer Bible', as examples of books i kind of dismissed at first reading but have somehow stayed with me, and which i feel may have some relevance for the work-aday phase of my life's journey.

Like the tide, Bath's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

I don't get it, 02 Aug 1997
I loved "Tidewater Tales" and was enormously impressed so went looking for other John Barth books and found "Sabbitical". The names are different but the story (or one of the stories) and I still enjoyed it. However I was hoping to find something from the author explaining why write "Sabbitical" first and then retell the tale as part of "Tidewater Tales", although I now know why the Talbots boat is called "Reprise".

Sailing up the chesapeake, sailing up the chesapeake,, 21 Nov 1996
Sailing up the chesapeake bay. John Barth brings us sailing once again, this time with the tale of married ex CIA-and-deeper-operative-turned-tell-almost-all-expose-writer Fenwick (descendant of Francis Scott Key) and literary prof Susan (descendant of Edgar Allen Poe), aboard their ship Pokey, while they wrestle with all of the things that can come between the introduction of the gun in Act I and its being fired in Act III, between the act and its resolution, things like birth, death, loyalty, rambunctious nephews, seamonsters. There are common themes here, sure, but for this reader, Barth's talent ensures that the style transcends gimmick. The story never gets too horribly muckied up while he plays around. In fact, sometimes his bold this-is-what-i'm-going-to-make-happen-next-and-this-is-why entrances/intrusions actually increase our appreciation/wonder for his craft. The man is telling you flat out how he plans to manipulate your senses of awe and delight, and thus warned, you're still blown away when he actually goes ahead and does it. Barth is an uncommon magician, in that he has no secrets, and yet he is no less magical.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh us, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

He's pushing it, 30 Aug 1999
If I'd picked this book off the shelf having had no familiarity with its author, I have no idea how I would've felt about it. But I was already an enthusiastic fan of The Sot Weed Factor and some of Barth's earlier and later fiction when I read this one, and my knowledge of Barth's astounding narrative and comic capabilities made this book seem a little depressing. Now, I give it 5 stars with no qualms, mostly because of its originality and humor, but I still don't know exactly what to think about it. At the very least, it's something new (even 30 years later) and worth your time. For first-time readers of Barth, however, I strongly suggest The Sot Weed Factor. It isn't as self-indulgent or anti-novel as this one (not that those qualities are necessarily bad in the hands of Barth).

a 13 year-old's revelation of academic futility, 06 Aug 1998
the first review listed here was pretty good. too bad the web site is defunct. seeing only one review, i just had to be number two :)

... i dont remember how i happened to try to read this book when i was 13 back in 1970, it was probably lying around the farmhouse of my literary uncle. Dont remember much about it, but for some reason parts of it have stayed with me, the vision of literary gloss upon gloss recursing to the depths of infinity still surfaces in my consciousness occasionally. Read this about the same time as Vonnegut's 'Sirens of Titan', which, fwiw, was a more influential book for my emerging world-view, and somehow their themes seemed to overlap in visions of futility and complexity. This book probably made me lose any desire to pursue an academic career. Now, at the middling age when i read practically no nonfiction, and all my reading is work-related and hyper-technical, this is one of the nonfiction books i am pondering rereading, along with 'The B! oomer Bible', as examples of books i kind of dismissed at first reading but have somehow stayed with me, and which i feel may have some relevance for the work-aday phase of my life's journey.

Like the tide, Bath's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

I don't get it, 02 Aug 1997
I loved "Tidewater Tales" and was enormously impressed so went looking for other John Barth books and found "Sabbitical". The names are different but the story (or one of the stories) and I still enjoyed it. However I was hoping to find something from the author explaining why write "Sabbitical" first and then retell the tale as part of "Tidewater Tales", although I now know why the Talbots boat is called "Reprise".

Sailing up the chesapeake, sailing up the chesapeake,, 21 Nov 1996
Sailing up the chesapeake bay. John Barth brings us sailing once again, this time with the tale of married ex CIA-and-deeper-operative-turned-tell-almost-all-expose-writer Fenwick (descendant of Francis Scott Key) and literary prof Susan (descendant of Edgar Allen Poe), aboard their ship Pokey, while they wrestle with all of the things that can come between the introduction of the gun in Act I and its being fired in Act III, between the act and its resolution, things like birth, death, loyalty, rambunctious nephews, seamonsters. There are common themes here, sure, but for this reader, Barth's talent ensures that the style transcends gimmick. The story never gets too horribly muckied up while he plays around. In fact, sometimes his bold this-is-what-i'm-going-to-make-happen-next-and-this-is-why entrances/intrusions actually increase our appreciation/wonder for his craft. The man is telling you flat out how he plans to manipulate your senses of awe and delight, and thus warned, you're still blown away when he actually goes ahead and does it. Barth is an uncommon magician, in that he has no secrets, and yet he is no less magical.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh us, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

Want to know the end to know the novel's worth reading ?, 25 Jan 2000
... The story is rather intricated and the title does well explicit the author's approach to life. We are aboard a ship that is latently on the verge of sicking..nothing is sure for good, nothing is acquired. Our life is our experience and everything is possible then.

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

He's pushing it, 30 Aug 1999
If I'd picked this book off the shelf having had no familiarity with its author, I have no idea how I would've felt about it. But I was already an enthusiastic fan of The Sot Weed Factor and some of Barth's earlier and later fiction when I read this one, and my knowledge of Barth's astounding narrative and comic capabilities made this book seem a little depressing. Now, I give it 5 stars with no qualms, mostly because of its originality and humor, but I still don't know exactly what to think about it. At the very least, it's something new (even 30 years later) and worth your time. For first-time readers of Barth, however, I strongly suggest The Sot Weed Factor. It isn't as self-indulgent or anti-novel as this one (not that those qualities are necessarily bad in the hands of Barth).

a 13 year-old's revelation of academic futility, 06 Aug 1998
the first review listed here was pretty good. too bad the web site is defunct. seeing only one review, i just had to be number two :)

... i dont remember how i happened to try to read this book when i was 13 back in 1970, it was probably lying around the farmhouse of my literary uncle. Dont remember much about it, but for some reason parts of it have stayed with me, the vision of literary gloss upon gloss recursing to the depths of infinity still surfaces in my consciousness occasionally. Read this about the same time as Vonnegut's 'Sirens of Titan', which, fwiw, was a more influential book for my emerging world-view, and somehow their themes seemed to overlap in visions of futility and complexity. This book probably made me lose any desire to pursue an academic career. Now, at the middling age when i read practically no nonfiction, and all my reading is work-related and hyper-technical, this is one of the nonfiction books i am pondering rereading, along with 'The B! oomer Bible', as examples of books i kind of dismissed at first reading but have somehow stayed with me, and which i feel may have some relevance for the work-aday phase of my life's journey.

Like the tide, Bath's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

I don't get it, 02 Aug 1997
I loved "Tidewater Tales" and was enormously impressed so went looking for other John Barth books and found "Sabbitical". The names are different but the story (or one of the stories) and I still enjoyed it. However I was hoping to find something from the author explaining why write "Sabbitical" first and then retell the tale as part of "Tidewater Tales", although I now know why the Talbots boat is called "Reprise".

Sailing up the chesapeake, sailing up the chesapeake,, 21 Nov 1996
Sailing up the chesapeake bay. John Barth brings us sailing once again, this time with the tale of married ex CIA-and-deeper-operative-turned-tell-almost-all-expose-writer Fenwick (descendant of Francis Scott Key) and literary prof Susan (descendant of Edgar Allen Poe), aboard their ship Pokey, while they wrestle with all of the things that can come between the introduction of the gun in Act I and its being fired in Act III, between the act and its resolution, things like birth, death, loyalty, rambunctious nephews, seamonsters. There are common themes here, sure, but for this reader, Barth's talent ensures that the style transcends gimmick. The story never gets too horribly muckied up while he plays around. In fact, sometimes his bold this-is-what-i'm-going-to-make-happen-next-and-this-is-why entrances/intrusions actually increase our appreciation/wonder for his craft. The man is telling you flat out how he plans to manipulate your senses of awe and delight, and thus warned, you're still blown away when he actually goes ahead and does it. Barth is an uncommon magician, in that he has no secrets, and yet he is no less magical.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh us, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

Want to know the end to know the novel's worth reading ?, 25 Jan 2000
... The story is rather intricated and the title does well explicit the author's approach to life. We are aboard a ship that is latently on the verge of sicking..nothing is sure for good, nothing is acquired. Our life is our experience and everything is possible then.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

"Listen, and put your head under the tree of awe"..., 24 Dec 2005
... is what another minstrel once said, and it best sums up my experience of this book. I'd been well on my way becoming a fan of John Barth after having read "The Floating Opera" but this book made me fall in love with him his writing the narrator who tells the narrated untellable etc. etc.:) In honest, the chaotic whole made up of these seemingly disjointed stories, is simply awe-inspiring. At least two of them, "Echo" and "Menelaide", are my personal favourites. As a reader you are made to pull your own weight in the medium-that-is-the-message part, and it's not always easy. Other times, you are just invited to laugh or wonder or cry and often all at the same time. I am looking forward to reading all of his other books - there's no turning back now...

Fantastic collection of experimental fiction!, 08 Jun 1996
In his story, "The Immortal," Jorge Luis Borges describes a labyrinth as "a structure compounded to confuse men; its architecture, rich in symmetries, is subordinated to that end."* Similarly, the stories of Barth's collection _Lost in the Funhouse_, present a labyrinth of narrative fiction, in their exploration of the story as medium, voice, and tool of the magician. The fourteen stories, reflecting Barth's idea of a narrative as a structure, take the varied forms of Mobius strip, letter, autobiography, and tale; what makes for additional complexity, is the insistence by each of the stories' characters (who include a siamese twin, heroes of the Odyssey,and an abandoned court minstrel) to have his or her say. Inherent in this is Barth's insistence on the infinite number of possible constructions of a narrative, which stun the reader through his descriptions, plot lines (knots, in some cases), and ideas. Read _Lost in the Funhouse_ to witness Barth's magic, and to be reminded of the combined power of voice and language, storytelling. *(Jorge Luis Borges, "The Immortal," _Labyrinths_: New Directions Books, 1962.)

A masterpiece, 06 Jan 2007
Ebenezer Cooke is one of the most moving and endearing characters I've ever come across. The picaresque tale of his hapless adventures will have you laughing out loud at times, and deeply sympathizing with his troubles at the same time. Barth's language is superb too: of course it's not really how people spoke in those days, but it feels ever so right.

Thick as it may be, you'll wish this novel had twice as many pages to enjoy!

Please pass the fags, 18 Sep 2003
Without contradiction a masterpiece, rank Barth along with Willie S & Charlie D from England. Mind you its the only book of his I've read. You laugh out loud alot with this one.

A marvellous tale of innocent pride (or pride in innocence), 27 May 2003
"The Sot-Weed Factor" is originally a satirical poem, written by a certain Ebenezer Cooke, and is among the earliest pieces of literature to come out of the newly settled America. John Barth has borrowed the name of both author and work, and has sculptured a beautiful work, a grand tale about small and greater men. The characters are diverse, and the striking technique of Mr Barth makes them all come alive. The plotline is too complicated to explain in full, but still easy to follow, and the passages about an earlier journey around Chesapeake bay are hilarious, written in an English only a scholar could contrive (Mr Barth is a professor of English). And for all of those who like good, old-fashioned storytelling from which you may actually learn something, the tale of Ebenezer's (I know him so well that I only use his first name) awowed innocence, with the disastrous results it has for himself and others, gives an opportunity to ponder this aspect of human existenc.

A great read!, 05 Feb 1998
It's interesting. It's fun. It's "literary," for those of you who care. It makes you think. It's worth reading more than once.

A three-headed Barth breathes literary fire!, 08 Feb 1997
Barth's award-winner that involves the re-tellings of three great myths, from the Arabian nights to Perseus in his later days and another hero not usually one of much note,this book shows Barth at the top of his form. In it, we see a sincere love for the traditions of story telling, mixed in with the modern theories of Barth and expression. Kudos to any book that throws in its own author as one of its primary characters!

He's pushing it, 30 Aug 1999
If I'd picked this book off the shelf having had no familiarity with its author, I have no idea how I would've felt about it. But I was already an enthusiastic fan of The Sot Weed Factor and some of Barth's earlier and later fiction when I read this one, and my knowledge of Barth's astounding narrative and comic capabilities made this book seem a little depressing. Now, I give it 5 stars with no qualms, mostly because of its originality and humor, but I still don't know exactly what to think about it. At the very least, it's something new (even 30 years later) and worth your time. For first-time readers of Barth, however, I strongly suggest The Sot Weed Factor. It isn't as self-indulgent or anti-novel as this one (not that those qualities are necessarily bad in the hands of Barth).

a 13 year-old's revelation of academic futility, 06 Aug 1998
the first review listed here was pretty good. too bad the web site is defunct. seeing only one review, i just had to be number two :)

... i dont remember how i happened to try to read this book when i was 13 back in 1970, it was probably lying around the farmhouse of my literary uncle. Dont remember much about it, but for some reason parts of it have stayed with me, the vision of literary gloss upon gloss recursing to the depths of infinity still surfaces in my consciousness occasionally. Read this about the same time as Vonnegut's 'Sirens of Titan', which, fwiw, was a more influential book for my emerging world-view, and somehow their themes seemed to overlap in visions of futility and complexity. This book probably made me lose any desire to pursue an academic career. Now, at the middling age when i read practically no nonfiction, and all my reading is work-related and hyper-technical, this is one of the nonfiction books i am pondering rereading, along with 'The B! oomer Bible', as examples of books i kind of dismissed at first reading but have somehow stayed with me, and which i feel may have some relevance for the work-aday phase of my life's journey.

Like the tide, Bath's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

I don't get it, 02 Aug 1997
I loved "Tidewater Tales" and was enormously impressed so went looking for other John Barth books and found "Sabbitical". The names are different but the story (or one of the stories) and I still enjoyed it. However I was hoping to find something from the author explaining why write "Sabbitical" first and then retell the tale as part of "Tidewater Tales", although I now know why the Talbots boat is called "Reprise".

Sailing up the chesapeake, sailing up the chesapeake,, 21 Nov 1996
Sailing up the chesapeake bay. John Barth brings us sailing once again, this time with the tale of married ex CIA-and-deeper-operative-turned-tell-almost-all-expose-writer Fenwick (descendant of Francis Scott Key) and literary prof Susan (descendant of Edgar Allen Poe), aboard their ship Pokey, while they wrestle with all of the things that can come between the introduction of the gun in Act I and its being fired in Act III, between the act and its resolution, things like birth, death, loyalty, rambunctious nephews, seamonsters. There are common themes here, sure, but for this reader, Barth's talent ensures that the style transcends gimmick. The story never gets too horribly muckied up while he plays around. In fact, sometimes his bold this-is-what-i'm-going-to-make-happen-next-and-this-is-why entrances/intrusions actually increase our appreciation/wonder for his craft. The man is telling you flat out how he plans to manipulate your senses of awe and delight, and thus warned, you're still blown away when he actually goes ahead and does it. Barth is an uncommon magician, in that he has no secrets, and yet he is no less magical.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh us, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

Want to know the end to know the novel's worth reading ?, 25 Jan 2000
... The story is rather intricated and the title does well explicit the author's approach to life. We are aboard a ship that is latently on the verge of sicking..nothing is sure for good, nothing is acquired. Our life is our experience and everything is possible then.

Like the tide, Barth's stories cleanse and refresh our life, 11 Jul 1996

I suppose it is inevitable that, as the post-war boomers approach the big six-zero over the next decade, we will see a tidal flood of tender, soul-searching narratives. Boomers want to understand rather than simply experience life, and most have been frustrated by life's refusal to obey our expectations.

John Barth seems to have made such soul searching his life work, and I seem to have followed him book for book, life experience by life experience over the years. A clever "academic" writer (read: "he writes like a dream but his wit sometimes overwhelms the story"), Barth has addressed boomer experience and frailty .

Seeming to be five to ten years ahead of boomers, his books have ranged from the tragedy resulting from a terribly botched abortion (long before we openly spoke of this horror), through the visionary and usually misguided quest of the idealist (Sot-Weed Factor and Giles Goatboy), the terrible pain of realizing one is an adult (the clever but exhausting Letters), to more leisurely and accessible mid-life reassessment as protagonists take "voyages" on the emotional seascape of middle age (Sabbatical, Tidewater Tales, Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor, Once upon a Time...).

Each five years or so, I eagerly await his newest offering, devour it, and then feel frustrated when his literary games seem to detract from his story.

But, then, each time I realize (as if for the first time), the essential nature of his writing. Like the age-old games from which his writings spring (the quest/redemption stories of the Iliad and Oddessy, the "doomed" prophet stories of the Old and New Testaments, the mistaken identity games of Shakespeare and thousands of authors since, and the metaphor of story as voyage and voyage as growth from Chaucer, 1001 Nights, etc), Barth plays his games to remind us that the act of story telling *is* the experience, it *is* the reason we read: the experience of hearing ghost stories around the camp fire remains with us long long after we have forgotten the actual story.

And then I remember that, as a reader, I have no more "right" to expect neatness and closure in a Barth story than I have the right to expect neatness and closure in my own life. Try as we might, our own work, our own story is always in progress. And like Barth's beloved Tidewater, the ebb and flow of our own story defies our attempt to capture to master it.

In the end, life and Barth's stories remain as delightfully cleansing as the tide itself.

KRH www.umeais.maine.edu/~hayward

Clever? Irritating? Both? Neither?, 03 Feb 2004
Should you buy books on the basis of a review? Probably not but I picked this one off the shelf in a shop and was intrigued enough to buy it. Having read it I still have no idea what I really think about it. It is very clever, the basic premise, the allusions to post modernism and the apparent interweaving of the two main characters and their stories does grip you for a while. Having said that at other times whilst reading it I thought it was almost as annoying as Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, another weighty post modern tome that is both intellectually and physically weighty. If you want fiction that rattles along this is not it, if every now and then you want to read a book that makes you think, develops the theme of narrative structure and yet dwells on character to an extent that you do not really appreciate until towards the end... per haps this is it. I never considered stopping reading (not exactly a character reference but try it and you may understand what I mean) Will I try another of Barth's books. Not Yet! But perhaps one day.