How could I not enjoy a book whose 1930’s Melbourne setting still seemed remarkably familiar, and whose timeless self-loathing theme makes it a tonic for our burst-financial-bubble GFC time of introspection. It’s an Australian classic, and it seems to nail the Stepford Wives-hollow suburban respectability ideal just beautifully. I loved the descriptions of the “reffos and suffos” and the depiction of the pride of the working man in the depression era. I thought it was fabulous – the contrast between David and Jack and their destinies could not have been more stark or sad. 4.5 stars.