She lay there with this evil-smelling cloroxy jelly oozing out of her sweating oil whose gases in garlicky strings pulled at the roots of his teeth breathing. They liked it."" The they becomes pretty academic before long since this is a rank, dank and endlessly repetitious novel immobilized not only in the seepage of various natural functions but in an ""evacuating lethargy."" Thus that of Ramsay, a dropped-out college teacher, prodded to no good effect by his wife Eloise. He spends the days drinking and eyeing a ten-year-old girl, Nancy, while her mother Elaine (easily confused in his mind and the reader's with Eloise) is giving it away. Midway through Ramsay has assaulted his not unreluctant Lolita, a Negro is lynched, and he spends his final sodden hours in a Negro brothel. . . . Mr. Grindley has almost completed his second novel, hopefully with greater justification.