Certainly all the hub-bub about this Booker-Prize-winning novel is somewhat deserved -- but only somewhat. For an author as erudite as Rushdie, you do finish the book expecting something else, something *more* than this. Rushdie's precise diction, his mastery of ear and voice in English, and his bitingly dry wit all come through in this narrative, but it is clearly not his best effort. Occasionally repetitive, needlessly melodramatic at times, and not-quite certain in purpose, Midnight's Children shows flashes of brilliance and genius, but it is an uneven effort. Although anyone can see how adept Rushdie is at storytelling (and telling tales-within-tales) after a few pages, and almost anyone is certain to read this cover-to-cover, Midnight's Children has some dull, obscure, rambling moments that are noticable. The epic scale of the novel, the clever use of recent history, and the vivid portrayal of India/Pakistan/Bangladesh are all strong pluses in its favor -- Rushdie certainly deserves high praise for this work -- but he can (and has) done better. Read it, enjoy it, and then move on to his later publications.