A novel with eleven--yes, eleven
--beginnings, but only one ending, one perfect, lovely ending. Calvino plays with the relationship between reader and author, between two readers of the same work, between the author and the work, all while questioning what is real and true versus what is fake and false. It's complicated, yes, and not a novel that lends itself to distilling down into a concise description, but most importantly is this: it is brilliant, and you should read it. It challenges you, it teases you, it holds you in both contempt and in highest esteem. Any book that can do all that deserves to be read.