While travelling, I can endure nearly anything in my reading. Michael Chabon does not make this grade. Wonder Boys, as a film, is distracting, entertaining at moments, while the book is the drivel of a writer – the Pulitzer-Prize-winning author?!? – who does nothing but show off. His painful example of this is in his description of Sara Gaskell, who apparently likes to read: When (her books) ran out, she would reach for insurance brochures, hotel prospectuses and product warranties, advertising circulars, sheet of coupons.

In other words, Chabon avoids developing thoughts and instead wants to demonstrate what a clever little fellow he can be.

In my youth, I had an odd habit of reading books based upon films – Rollerball, Earthquake – perhaps to relive the cinematic experience. 

It’s why I started Wonder Boys, and yet Chabon fails even with these low expectations.