Fantastic book. It's Boyle's fictional creation of a grad student who ends up working for Alfred Kinsey ("Prok," as the narrator, John Milk, calls him) and the novel tracks him from his beginnings as a grad student until his narration of Prok's death in 1956. The book wasn't totally about sex, but about both sex and love and how they work together, how they need to exist both seperately and together, and how incorrect we are as a society to equate them with one another. Milk is one of those characters that I'll miss now that I'm done with the book. He was so well written, inexperienced at the start, but still profound in his own way, and watching him experience all of the things he did was fascinating. Not just the Kinsey stuff, but him living his twenties and thirties.
I discovered T.C. Boyle, oh, probably three months ago, not even, when I read a short story in The New Yorker. I had heard of him, but what I loved about the story (and what consequently made me buy The Inner Circle) was that I forgot I was reading. Boyle put pictures in my head, which is so hard to do, and I didn't read, I watched.
Book #3 is The Color Purple, by Alice Walker