Changed my rating to 1 star last night, over six years after reading it, because this book is STILL pissing me the fuck off. To compare yourself to Thomas Mann, and have James Joyce's arrogance - to align yourself with authors who ACTUALLY know what they're doing - and then produce this sexist, but also forced, retelling of two myths? TWO myths, yes, in a 100-page novella. It's just him talking about lesbians in horrifyingly over-sexualized ways, having there be age differences, and then be like "ok so that's one Orpheus and one Oedipus for table one." He can go fuck himself, honestly.
2,5, more tending towards the 2. I mean, the ending was okay, the story could've been good but the telling made it so boring and it was unrealistic. I just got bored every time I read it, only the last sentence was beautiful, the last page was nice. It was a bit... Hmwh. To say so.