Well, I must say that I have never before delved into a book from such a unique perspective. Here we have a man in his mid-50s, grappling with the challenges of prostate cancer. His personal life is in turmoil, with a divorced wife and a recently-separated one, and three children - one rather odd, one who relies on him, and one who has been dead for some time. He's a real estate agent living on a beach in New Jersey.

I mean, what on earth is a 21-year-old girl like me doing reading this book? I found it quite amusing while reading. It was assigned for a class at school! At times, it was difficult to get through as it spans just two or three days, and there are parts that are rather dull. However, the inner-workings of the protagonist's thoughts and reactions are truly interesting. He's a guy who likes to appease, to keep things amiable, even when his inner thoughts might not be so pleasant or polite.

This book can be quite clever at times. But, given its setting in 2000, with that early-2000s rhetoric and the perspective of this particular guy, there are unfortunately more than a few racially offensive moments and jokes that are now very much outdated and just feel really inappropriate when reading.

In terms of the 2000 election, this book is very interesting. The perspective of this democrat real estate agent, who has his own political opinions while also coming to terms with the thoughts of his impending death, adds an extra layer of depth. The use of the "Permanent Period" and the "Next Level" is a cool way to track Frank's development, change, and conflict throughout the story.

There is some truly beautiful writing when it comes to pondering death and one's identity when facing the unknown of when death will come and then when that mystery reveals itself a little more. There's also some wonderful writing about parenthood, middle-aged life, marriage, second marriages, affairs, and, surprisingly, real estate.

Definitely not something I would have chosen to read on my own, but I'm glad I did. Sometimes the guy's writing strikes me as a bit elementary, but I think those are just moments of it being a bit too dude-ish, if you know what I mean. I mean, middle-aged men should probably be reading this more than I am, so I guess that's okay.

I also have an issue with Ford's extensive use of onomatopoeia. I really hate that in books. Instead of just describing the sound, giving us "batta-batta, brrrump, cling-cling" is so distracting and jarring. I do not like onomatopoeia like that in fiction at all.

The review is currently unfinished.

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After reading The Sportswriter and Independence Day, I was truly anticipating The Lay of the Land. However, I must admit that it was really dull.

I'm not entirely certain how or why I managed to finish it. Perhaps it was simply because I continuously hoped that something interesting would occur.

And indeed, something did happen, but not until the last few pages, and it seemed rather contrived.

The book gave the impression of being one huge complaint about growing old.

It lacked the engaging and captivating elements that I had expected based on the author's previous works.

The characters felt flat, and the storyline failed to draw me in and hold my attention.

Overall, I was quite disappointed with The Lay of the Land and would not recommend it to others.

It seems that the author may have lost some of the magic that made his earlier books so enjoyable.

I hope that his future works will be more in line with the quality and excitement of The Sportswriter and Independence Day.

Richard Ford is truly a victim of his own success. This particular book clearly required the deft touch of a good editor. I strongly suspect that no one within Ford's circle had the courage to tell him to mercilessly cut and simply "get on with it." The slow pace is burdened by an overabundance of detail, long paragraphs filled with clause upon clause, and the repetitive musings of the tedious Frank Bascombe.

Ford does an excellent job, however, of vividly fleshing out the time and place. It is roughly the last quarter of the 20th century, during which New Jersey succumbed to suburban sprawl and rapacious realtors. Bascombe used to tell his writing students, "If you can say it, it can happen," and perhaps that is Ford speaking through his character. But not for this reader. The writer's task is to make it believable, not merely to make it occur.

I simply cannot warm to Ford's style. It includes a particularly grating use of end-of-sentence negation. For example, "Money says this guy's Italian, though he's all spruced up and could be Greek, which wouldn't be better." Or, "It's where I'd buy in if I moved back -- which I won't." And, "And even though I have officially accepted it, I will never truly get over it if I live to a hundred -- which I won't." Also, "It [the prostate:] is a gland, by the way, unlike your dick, which is often said to be, but isn't." Even though I don't have a dick, I still wanted to like this book after reading so much praise for the work of the Pulitzer Prize-winning author -- but I didn't.