Just finished this one. Great, great book. It took me a while to get into, but the story is wonderful. Irving kind of jumps from one story to another story within the first one. I was going to give an example, but I'll just insert part of the first paragraph: I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice - not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death, but because he is the reason I believe in God: I am a Christian because of Owen Meany... Irving then goes on to describe their childhood together and doesn't really get into the death of his mother for around a hundred pages or so, but continually mentions it in passing so that you are expecting to be let in on the story. He does this with several aspects, not just his mother's death. It's a gripping read but pretty emotionally taxing. I shouldn't have finished it tonight, as I was already a little low, but what is done is done.