Children of the Dust is the best book I have ever read. I am soooo disappointed that I cannot find the book anywhere. The book is so awesome. It's romantic,emotional, moving, sensational, and fascinating. Way to go Charlile Clancy, you are an awesome poet.

This book is ridiculous. Carlile puts words in the mouths of characters under many sets of circumstances which he could know nothing about--intimate dialogue that is absurd when created in this manner. I realize it is billed as a novel, however, I thought there would be more depth of character shown here. This book is shallow and disappointing. Carlile takes factual circumstances and builds private conversations around them. The scene where he has Hemingway having intercourse with McAlmon--am I naive? I have read a lot of Hemingway--did I miss something? I never got a hint of this type of relationship. And the way he sets the event up is absurd--like a dream sequence. It is idiotic. However, if there were no mention of the sexual escapades of the group, it would have been too boring to continue. I was glad when I finished this. I didn't find it to be well written.

I have read much about Hemmingway and this author has done justice to his lifestyle. It is very informative about literary Paris in the 20's and 30's. Do remember it is a novel and enjoy!

I don't know, I have read almost every biography of Hemingway, and many biographies of the other writers from this group, and quite frankly I think Carlile got it right. Of course in a novel the author adds thoughts and dialogue, but again, little of it seemed far afield from the biographical realities I have read. In truth, most of these folks were self-aggrandizing, narcissistic, drunken sloths, who showed a great deal of pettiness and jealousy of each others' works. Most of the reviews here seemed upset with Carlile's focus on sexuality. However, the fact was that these post-Victorian writers and artists, not unlike late 1950s and 1960s practitioners in that sexual revolution, WERE obsessed with sexuality, and experimented to a great degree with sexual variations and polyamory. Finally, some of the reviewers were put-off by the scene where Hemingway (in his sleep??) forced himself sexually on McAlmon. Frankly, Carlile is not the first to hypothesize that Hemingway's youthful and extreme disdain for homosexuality (culminating in some pretty violent acts against homosexual acquaintences of his) may have been his overcompensating for his own homosexual impulses, and that this "reaction-formation" may even be the source of his life-long and often farcical attempts (through deeds and writings) to prove the extent of his own masculinity. Indeed, contemporaries of his theorized this about Hemingway for years.

In any event, I frankly enjoyed the book. It was obvious that Carlile had read the same histories of this group as I have read over the years, and it was fun to have him fill in the blanks with what seemed to be right-on-target and realistic appraisals of a group whose talents were not as developed as their egos, and whose actions (scatological and sexual ones included) were elevated to cultural phenomena.