A Prayer for Owen Meany

Review

It's funny to me that I finished A Prayer for Owen Meany on the same day that I mentioned to my colleague that I have a certain fondness for novels with a moral, weighty sensibility to them. I had a hard time getting into the book, but once it picked up I loved it; it was both entertaining and a beautiful reflection on faith and friendship. I was truly impressed by Irving's reincorporation of all the threads of the story in such a satisfying (and sad) ending, and while I did find all the "present day" sections in Toronto pretty boring, I'll concede that Owen Meany is hard to compete with.

We were used to the Saturday matinees at the decrepit Gravesend movie house, inexplicably called The Idaho — after the faraway western state or the potato of that name, we never knew. The Idaho was partial to Tarzan films, and—increasingly—to biblical epics. Owen and I hated the latter: in his view, they were SACRILEGIOUS; in my opinion, they were boring. Owen was also critical of Tarzan movies.