This is undoubtedly my favourite book of all time. Pretty big call I know and particularly considering the fact that it took me about three goes before I actually could finish the first chapter. Why? It is initially quite a difficult read, breaking nearly every writing convention I had learnt. Few sentence breaks, no 'new paragraph for a new thought' philosophy here. I found it quite frustrating at first, having not previously been exposed to stream-of-consciousness writing.

If you persevere, and allow yourself to be immersed in the flow of the character's thoughts, you will be richly rewarded with an extremely humourous and very, very clever piece of writing. I read this book about 2 years ago and even now, some of the 'scenes' remain so beautifully clear and funny in my mind. Particularly when I'm sucking on M&Ms....

I cannot commend this book highly enough. I urge anyone out there to read it and allow yourself to be swept away with the words and the wit.

it's thick as the London phone book, god, and every line stream of consciousness what's that oh a fly it's in the airplane you wonder if they know they're flying in the plane i mean anyway it's about Ricky Thornby who never was, he never was anything much but a down at heel producer of industrials well maybe the Eisenstein of industrials, but still... fan as i am of adam thorpe, and acquainted with ricky from Clive's Seasons, you know, the little dreary Beeb thing at the end of ulverton the part with the skeleton and all, anyway, fan as i am, this book still scared the hell out of me i mean 600 pages or so and all like this only more tough sledding sledding would it be citizen kane or ulysses or some Blooming other thing, well, it was Ricky, ricky and his secrets revealed a word and a word until my word it takes your breath away and you will never forget it

An extraordinary literary tour de force. A real treat... but it did NOT win the 1993 Booker Prize.

There is no question why this compelling novel won the 1993 Booker prize. Thorpe's recreation of life in a small English village over three hundred years is startling in its ability to grab the reader by the "emotional lapels" and shake hard. By revealing bits of history from widely varying perspectives, Thorpe communicates that, though times and social classes may differ, the essence of "being human" does not. The ending is also uncommonly satisfying. Treat yourself--read Ulverton!

This twelve short stories collected here share both a first-person narrative format and a thematic concern with work and the ways work affects ones' life. The narrators vary widely, including an English garbageman recounting incidents from his work, the wife of an Aussie mason struggling to find work in France, a French tire-repairer working for his father under German occupation, an English clerk for a timber company in the Congo, an American adrift in Paris who befriends an cigarette-butt gatherer, a French swimming pool salesman, the brother of an English car-restorer who commits suicide, the wife of a German metalworker, a Pakistani immigrant working at a lightbulb factory, and others.

Their stories vary in interest, but through them Thorpe is attempting with varied success to show how work can radically define a person's life and outlook on life. Although, by setting almost every story in past (especially the '30s-'60s), he seems to be indirectly suggesting that this is less and less the case in the modern world. The stories display a keen sense of research and care, as Thorpe adeptly summons disparate voices and argot of various trades, ethnicities, classes, and nationalities. Sometimes the drama gets a little too, well, dramatic. And some of the shorter stories lack the depth to make them truly compelling, but on the whole the book is worth checking out. The title 45+ page story, about a Ghanaian adrift in mid-'60s London, is especially worth reading.

Note: Five of the stories appear in other collections (New Writing 3, New Writing 6, New Writing 7, Obsession, Time Out Book of Paris Short Stories), two were performed on BBC radio, and several appeared in The New Statesman.