I suppose some of us living in the post-Stonewall hyper sensitive age might find this book offensive. After all, it describes gay men as brutal, violent, sexually depraved sociopaths, incapable of love without psychotic desires involved. But take a moment and understand James Purdy: He's a genius at concealing parody behind Gothic, florid prose. That's why I love him. He can write a scene describing a man administering an enema while kissing the recipient's butt cheeks as casually as if he were describing someone sniffing a wild rose. Very surreal, very entertaining. However, like most of Purdy's novels, Narrow Rooms is loaded with redundant word choice, overuse of the asterisk and setting words off in quotes, "beat" consistency errors and, at one point, a verbatim copy of an entire paragraph used a few pages later. Blame the editors for Purdy's sloppy work. But his writing gifts still manage to shine through.