A review by tomleetang
Quichotte by Salman Rushdie

3.0

Sparkles with Rushdian wit, imagination and intelligence, but the metafictional gymnastics seem more about being clever than saying anything poignant.

There's so much going on here, in terms of pop culture references, commentary on narrative structures, familial drama, picaresque adventures, racism in the US vs racism in the UK, social media, cancel culture, opioid addiction, etc., etc., etc. It all becomes a bit of a hodgepodge, an effervescently creative mind churning out ideas faster than it can give them coherence. Or maybe I'm just too TV addled to see the coherence? Or maybe the lack of coherence is meant to mirror the minds of our TV addled age?