Ripley Bogle. The first novel by Robert McLiam Wilson. The story is about an indigent and homeless man from Belfast, in London. The man was at one time a student in Cambridge, and presumably capable of a much better life than that which he is experiencing. I read somewhere that Wilson was himself homeless at some point in his life.

     It is noticeable that Wilson is given to the indescriminate use of large words like deracination (several times in Eureka Street) and vomacious (not even in my dictionary.) One wonders why. Still, Eureka Street was enjoyable.

     Somehow, given my current circumstances, Ripley Bogle seems a particularly ominous read for me. Perhaps, I think, it will offer some insight into the root cause of my own malaise. I fear that I will be somewhat disappointed if I read it with such a vain purpose in mind. My time might be better spent in seeking a more immediate solution to my problems, which are mounting.

     Did I mention the plumbing issues at home? No. I won't.