John Irving is one of my favorite authors, who had hit his stride with his third novel "The world according to Garp." This is his second novel (or more of a novella), and it covers familiar Irving motifs of; Vienna, infidelity, carnage and physical catastrophe, wrestling, weird characters, and lots of sex. There really is no ultimate purpose to this book or its story. It is only interesting if you are a reader of Irving's and you can see how much he has grown as an author and storyteller. So the recommendation is that the book is short.

When I've talked so much about how much I would prefer Irving if he didn't go on and on and on, you'd think I'd really dig this one. It's the smallest Irving I've ever seen. Yet, it somehow feels more bloated that his much larger novels. The plot doesn't really seem to start for quite a few chapters. So much early on is back story. It's necessary, but I wish he'd have woven it in more like in later books. Though shorter, it's so slow to start and never seems to get much of anywhere once it does get started. It is by no means bad, just not as much of the good parts of Irving I've come to expect. Probably predictable given that I'm hitting one of his earlier novels later, but still. This one doesn't quite have the Irving magic moments, which can go a long way to helping me accept the things about his style I don't care for as much. Bottom line, probably one of my least favorite Irvings.

The book was alright. As usual, Irving's character descriptions drag on and on, and I failed to see the point of most of the backstories. That being said, it was an engaging read, I liked it, but it could have been half the length and still made the same impact.

Relatief dunne Irving, maar ook in compacte vorm kan de schrijver nog veel van zijn vaste thema's kwijt (Wenen, obsessies met het menselijk fysiek, het doolhof dat relaties heet). Verhaal over twee stellen in een universiteitsstad dat zich aan overspel waagt komt moeizaam op gang, maar de volhouder wordt uiteindelijk wel beloond. Niet z'n sterkste boek, maar ergens tussen de drie en vier sterren in.

John Irving è uno dellə miə autorə preferitə e quindi ho trovato insolito il fatto che io abbia dato a un suo romanzo "solo" tre stelle. Come al solito, il pregio più grande di questo narratore è il world building dei personaggi: le loro storie di origine e famigliari, i racconti aneddotici e i ricordi sono quello in cui Irving eccelle e questo libro non fa eccezione. È facile godersi la storia dell'infanzia di Utch in Austria e del primo incontro e rapporto sessuale tra Severin e Edith, ma quanto è irritante il narratore lo sa solo Iddio. La voce narrante è infatti quella di uno dellə protagonistə di questo scambio di coppia, professore e scrittore a tempo perso di romanzi storici: donnaiolo, petulante e "viveur", è in realtà solo un povero c*glione che della moglie non ha capito nulla. È stato quindi facile disprezzarlo e di seguito disprezzare il modo in cui narra la storia, anche se l'effetto potrebbe essere voluto. Purtroppo, il romanzo di Irving meno esaltante che abbia mai letto, sebbene sia il più erotico.

"The 158-Pound Marriage" is Irving's third novel, but it bears the seal of his trademark conversational prose, his sleek sparsity. The man is a prose pro -- even at this early point in his career -- capable of turning the simplest of descriptions into something fulsomely beautiful, larger than the sum of its parts.

However, just because someone knows how to write, that doesn't mean they know what they're writing about. In this book, Irving tries real hard to make a very little look like a whole lot. This reader wasn't fooled.

The story is about an unnamed college professor (who is also an unsuccessful writer of historical fictions) and his Viennese wife, Utchka. At a faculty get-together, they meet another couple: a Viennese German professor/wrestling coach named Severin, and his spoiled wife, Edith. Without much fanfare, the couples start up a spouse-swapping relationship that, of course, ends badly.

That's it. I'm not kidding.

Irving rounds out his dismal and repetitive plot with various anecdotes, some time-flopping devices, and lots of clever (if not over-wrought) character development. Irving is a maverick at populating his books with legitimate and understandable souls; you can feel their pulses in each slim page. The problem here is that every character is despicable. The narrator is myopic and heartless. Severin is petulant and stubborn. Utch is childish and stupid. And Edith is selfish and melodramatic. The real kicker? None of them change. Not at all.

The story's "twists," if they can be called that, are employed solely to make the reader feel like the tale is in motion, that it both arose from and is headed toward something interesting. That's not the case. These people and their histories (especially Utch's) make for some occasionally intriguing reading, but by the last third of the novel, when the couples are mostly just bickering and whining, you'll find it as intriguing as, well, as watching two couples bicker and whine.

Let's not forget the children. That's right. Both couples have two children which exist in the plot like thumbtacks holding up a map of Swingsville. Not only are the kids barely there, but when they DO show up, their presence is announced sportscaster-style by both Irving and the narrator. My guess is that the next-to-last draft of this novel had no kids at all. Just before publication, I bet Irving decided to try to ratchet the stakes up a notch by tossing in a few tykes, expecting they would give all of the self-indulgent sexuality a tincture of doom. He's trying to slap on some import, make the reader aghast, throw the amoral escapades into the light of carelessness, but such a thing would be unnecessary if the story were well-molded to begin with. As such, the overall effect is cheap and tasteless. (Maybe Irving knew this; the narrator himself frequently mentions how it's too bad he hadn't thought of the children more than he did.)

For a story about love and passion, this book is void of either. Never do the characters seem to have any feelings for anyone other than themselves, and even the occasional "erotic" passage is about as sexy as a shattered shower door or stinking wrestling mat. The book takes place at such a remove (not a surprise, since the narrator, like all the characters, has his sights turned mostly on himself) that there's no connection at all, not between the lovers, nor between the spouses, not even with the reader. There's a lot of nice-sounding prose here, but it tells a dull and dismal half-story, one that's not nearly as profound as it is pathetic.

Basically, the interrelationships between two married couples that swap spouses. Told from the perspective of one of the husbands. I would've given the book four stars, but Irving gets a little chaotic and zany in some of the writing. Of course you have some of the usual Irving elements--wrestling and Vienna. A surprisingly quick read, that I found hard to put down.

After reading John Irving's A Son Of The Circus a few months ago and enjoying it (see my review: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/... ), I decided to read another of his books. I chose The 158-Pound Marriagebecause, unlike many of Irving's other works it was a slim volume ideal for carrying whilst commuting.

The narrator is an academic who writes historical novels. His wife, Utch, was born in Austria soon before the Soviet Union marched in at the end of WW2. Severin, also born in Austria, teaches German and coaches wrestling at the same university as the narrator. His wife, Edith, is an aspiring novelist.

The two couples decide to become a foursome'. By mutual agreement Severin spends occasional nights sleeping with Utch, whilst Edith and the narrator sleep together. It is an arrangement that appears to be working, but from the beginning of the book I suspected that things turn sour. It is clear from the outset that the narrator is wary of Severin, but the reverse is not true. Severin turns out to be a colourful character full of mystery, some of which is gradually revealed as the tale unfolds. Inevitably, things end badly, but I will not reveal any details.

Compared to A Son Of The Circus, The 158-Pound Marriage is colourless and dull. It was only a refusal to give up, that kept me going until the last page. However, I have not been put-off reading John Irving, and plan to tackle some of his better-known novels in the future.

Now why did this short little book take me three months to finish? Well. That can be explained through the major flaws in this piece of writing. John Irving, why did you decide to write this when you could've just gone to therapy? This was a long winded testament to his ego and his self-pity. I had such a hard time getting through the blatant misogyny, too. Honestly, how does someone even come up with this stuff? Also the plot was non-existent. It was just a guy whining, and then there's way too many major events in the last five pages. Don't waste your time with this. I had such high hopes, too. Major womp womp moment.

Uno de los libros más flojos de Irving para mi gusto. No ha terminado de engancharme en ningún momento. La trama, un menagé a cuatro entre dos matrimonios, no me ofrece el mínimo interés, lo único que me ha parecido más interesante es el pasado de alguno de sus personajes.

2.5 gwiazdki

Jestem wielką fanką powieści Irvinga, jednak Małżeństwo wagi półśredniej zmęczyło mnie i rozczarowało.
Warsztat autora i jego zmysł obserwacji jak zwykle bez zarzutu, a mimo to książka pozostawia niesmak. Historia czworga ludzi połączonych seksualną grą, którzy tylko wg metryki są dojrzali, a w rzeczywistości infantylni, małostkowi, bezwzględni i żałośni, to kolejna opowiastka o tym, że zabawy zapałkami są niebezpieczne - las spłonął, nowy nie odrośnie, a podpalacze niczego się nie nauczyli.
Czytałam bez zainteresowania, czasami irytując się bezbrzeżną głupotą bohatera/narratora, nie współczując postaciom, ani im nie kibicując. Mogłam spokojnie darować sobie lekturę, ale cóż... to Irving.

This is the tale of two couples who decide to share each other, or become a ménage à quatre, in an attempt to even out things in their relationships. It's Edith and Severin in one corner, Utchka and the unnamed, unreliable narrator in the other. The title of the book relates to wrestling, but the fighting image is close enough...anyway, Edith and the narrator have two things in common: they are both trying to be writers and they both met their spouses while traveling in Vienna. Severin and Utchka share a native language and have both lost family and suffered as children during WWII. Severin teaches German, but it's his position as a wrestling coach that is important to him.

John Irving has an outstanding talent for character development, and these well-drawn characters play a part in a fascinating drama. Is this all about sex, or something more? What are each of the four getting out of this arrangement? Unsurprisingly, one person will eventually call an end to this entanglement, and even though they all know that this is inevitable, it doesn't prevent the emotional upset that ensues.

There is some interesting use of symbolism throughout the book, and Irving's writing style is always very pleasing. I enjoyed it, though it always bothers me a little when the narrator remains nameless. In this case, I'd like to know who to slap, though I admit that by the end, I was pulling for him to make things right again with Utchka, the only one who seems to understand herself and who is understandably very hurt.