Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates.
Not since Orwell's Coming Up For Air (another book of note) has ennui been so lovingly wrought. Yates prose is generous in a way that his follower Raymond Carver's prose is guarded. Where Carver suggests, Yates elucidates. The sentences, so finely wrought, betray no sweat on the part of the writer, but appear effortless, as though sprung fully formed from a superior mind. His observations, neat, cruel, are mots juste, again and again. Really a fine, fine book.
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