I think I’m quitting this in the middle of the endless, mindboggling description of the silly, pointless Eschaton game the tennis students play. Honestly, there could be a good novel in here somwhere, but this just takes far too long, and yes I guessed long ago who’s the target of the inifite jest, it’s the poor reader (there’s no wise-cracking here, I think it really is the point of the novel). Not sure I’m giving this any more time. As they say in Hollywood “if nothing has happened by the end of the first reel, nothing will”. I’m one-third through, and nothing has happened. Nothing will.