The author has his say about the book

Through several tedious if not tendentious chapters Freese wearily asks the reader to observe the intellectual and psychological maturing of a creature, half King Kong, half golem.

Apparently the author is the creature, "Gruff," a metaphor for his own long gestational process into adulthood. Nothing wrong with that. Latently, like much of this book, what lies beneath the telling of the narrative is Freud's old notion of the id as a seething caldron.

The book is a bilsdungsroman of how the id can be mastered or domesticated so one is not a discontent in civilization. Probably Gruff, at first, is a Maga moron but he has his abilities and slowly succumbs to the wiles of reason and then like Don Quixote sallies forth on Rocinante and enters the world delusional.

The gruff is an awakener, a teacher, a learner, often titles of chapters; here Freese presents his feelings and thoughts about these roles; apparently Gruff as eastern thinker is his best choice. If Don Quixote has his Sancho Panza, Gruff has his Om.

As we schlepp toward the end, observing Gruff's idiosyncratic experiences that change from matzoh to risen bread, Freese changes course. Gruff as artist. He cites Dinesen. "The artist is never poor." He has the gall to have Gruff create a totemic sculptural art work at the end and it is here that Freese excels. Much too late. However, as one literary wag wrote, if the writer has one page that is damn good he or she should take pride in that. Freese has his page. Read Harlan Ellison