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Once upon a time, I found myself engaged in a lively debate with a friend about "The Corrections". I was truly fond of the book, believing it to be exquisitely well-written. Each sentence seemed to be a finely crafted piece of English literature, leaving me with a profound impression. However, my friend had a completely different perspective. She thought the book was pretentious and couldn't stand it. Our conversation quickly turned into a passionate argument, ultimately boiling down to the significance of likeable protagonists. My friend firmly believed that a good story must have at least one "Good Guy", a character that the reader can easily relate to and root for. In her view, any book lacking this moral anchor was inherently bad. She even went as far as to imply that my defense of "The Corrections" might suggest something suspect about my own morality. Was I perhaps an asshole for enjoying a book filled with what she considered to be assholes? First and foremost, I vehemently disagreed with her assessment of the characters in "The Corrections". I saw them as lifelike and multi-dimensional, with motives that were a complex blend of pure and impure. While they were indeed capable of acts of cruelty and deceit, they were also equally capable of showing compassion and forgiveness. Secondly, even if the characters were assholes, I still couldn't accept my friend's argument that this automatically made the book bad. I firmly believe that the likeability of characters has little to do with the artistic merits of a story. For example, I have a deep love for "The Little Prince", "The Perks of Being A Wallflower", "The Lord of the Rings" (movies), Stephen Colbert, and "My Antonia". And yet, I also have a great appreciation for "Goodfellas". Can you name a single character in "Goodfellas" that you would actually want to emulate? How about in "A Clockwork Orange"? On the other hand, Hallmark movies are often filled with loveable characters, but does that necessarily mean they are good? Anyway, all of this is just a prelude to conceding what many other reviewers of this book have already pointed out, which is that the main character is not particularly likeable. He's a bit lame and has a bit of a bro-ish quality, or at least the English equivalent thereof. He's not as bad as the knuckleheads in the pub who pound back ale and fart, but I would say he's chauvinist in the sense that he's primarily interested in women as sexual conquests. However, as I've already stated, the likeability of the protagonist is rather tangential. This book had a remarkable effect on me. It made me feel as if I was actually living in Paris. It made me laugh at the French, in a lighthearted and affectionate way. It was a breezy and mostly funny read, easy to get through. It also significantly improved my understanding of the French/British dichotomy - how the two countries relate to one another culturally, in a mutually judgmental yet simultaneously envious manner. The book had a clear narrative arc, centered around the evolving relationship between Paul and his boss/nemesis Jean-Marie. Overall, it's a great airplane book. It reads quickly, provides mild amusement, and you'll even learn a little bit about France. I truly enjoyed it. However, I don't feel the slightest bit inspired to read any of the five sequels.