I haven't read all the way through Rachel Cline's Boston Review piece on Bruce Wagner, just enough to know that we're in disagreement. She dislikes what I like, she likes what I don't. Me, I never thought all the repulsive sex in I'm Losing You was an act of sadism toward the reader; I got this feeling instead that he was describing, in a gruesomely funny way, the way ghouls have sex, and I found it weirdly entertaining. Almost everyone in the book is a soulless creep and there's something very Boschian about the whole enterprise. Cline is also rather more inclined toward the follow-up I'll Let You Go than I was; that was one of those cases where I found myself sitting through a whole vast chunky novel just so I could fairly say I read the whole trilogy, but it was a pale Victorian satire and a dull gassy farce. Never was I so glad to see a book end. But he was definitely back on top with Still Holding.