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I didn’t find the book ''teasing, wonderfully funny'' as the Guardian reviewer promised; in fact, it didn’t really appeal at a first reading. My literary muscles are currently way out of condition for coping with this sort of book. That isn’t meant as a criticism of a great writer, but a comment on the unsuitability of my choice.
You can’t judge a book by its cover, so they say. Particularly not by its title. Colm Tóibín has published two previous books of short stories, as well as seven novels, so an eye-catching title like ‘New 'New Ways to Kill Your Mother’ Mother' with a funky cover sounded to me like a entertaining book of short stories. A fair assumption, perhaps, but way off beam. I suspect the book I meant to read was his short story collection, [[The Empty Family by Colm Toibin]].
I'd like to thank the publishers for sending this book.
A much better starting place for this masterly writer would be his fictional biography of Henry James [[The Master by Colm TóibínToibin]] which was Booker Prize short-listed. Hand on heart, I sprinted through the whole book in a couple of days. Unless you generally marathon run with FR Leavis, I have to respectfully suggest that you should handle ‘‘New ''New Ways to Kill Your Mother’’ Mother'' slowly and with care.
If you, too, are a general reader looking for American short stories, you might like to try [[The Last Bachelor by Jay McInerney]].

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