| |
|
| |
|
|
by Rick Moody
In a word (or two or three): if this is as depressing as the ice storm,
it should come with prozac
From Mr. Hipster: This book should come with a warning to
stay away from razor blades, open windows and stores of narcotics.
Trust me, you'll want to head straight for the bottle after reading
this thing. There is nothing happy, nothing uplifting, nothing even
remotely hopeful about this book. It is all gloom and depression.
It is The
Ice Storm on downers. It is a story about a fucked up mess of
a man who must come home to take care of his invalid mother when her
husband of twenty years decides he can't take it any more. This drunk,
puddle of a son cannot even handle one night's responsibility. He
can't string together two hours without completely destroying something.
His mother wants to die, and he can't even accomplish that correctly.
Mix in a leaking nuclear reactor, several mentions of defecation and
urination, and you have what amounts to a pretty downcast book. Despite
all of this, I enjoyed the book. Moody really knows how to draw a
character. You can feel the pain as they stumble through scene after
scene of disastrous trauma. Once again, I'm too stupid to understand
the underlying meaning in this story, but I certainly got the feeling
something sad and co-dependent was going on.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
The Diviners
The Ice Storm
|
|
| |
|
|
Home
| Booze & Grub | Movies
| Music | Books
| Diary
| Randomness
|
|
| |
|