I loved this book, er, until the end where it slammed to an agonizing and tepid halt. I felt like Chabon either got tired of writing it, was obsessed with tying any possible loose ends (which would have gone unnoticed or pleasantly left to the reader's immagination), or was taking out an abusive and indulgent therapy session on now ever-faithful readers. This said, I thought the book was brilliant and beautiful. The characters were well written and at times reminded me of my own family; though none, to my knowledge, had ever been smuggled out of Nazi-occupied Prague or were escape artists. If you haven't read this one, nor "Up, Up and Oy Vey", check out "Up, Up.." first. Though not entirely necessary, it's a fun addition to the ride. Overall, I'd suggest this one as a favorite read. Just please oh please forgive the last few chapters.