Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides (author of the Virgin Suicides) is quite the epic. Effectively three generations of a greek family is portrayed here through splendid chromatic imagery from the introspective to the scientific. The book is a bit slow at the beginning but only briefly so. As soon as the first few characters were introduced, I was suitably entranced. The language is refined yet easy to read, such that I could come back to the book after a 3 week hiatus without missing a beat.

The basic premise is that it's the memoirs/cathartic writings of a hermaphrodite about her genesis (starting as far back as the courtship of his/her grandparents) and as A has warned me, it is a bit "fab." The feel is certainly hip (especially when the narrator gives us glimpses into his/her modern life) but not inappropriately so. I certainly enjoyed the book and it kept me up far far past my bedtime a few nights, the hallmark sign of a good read. It's slightly on the long side (about 500pg.) but wonderful throughout. The main character(s) are not so much charactesr I identify with rather than entities I like to keep close to me. They have their flaws and their idiosyncracies and are, well, almost real. This is one of the highest forms of praise I can give to an epic fiction. Obviously highly recommended.