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I guess I missed the
point here, but I haven't been this depressed after reading a book
in a while. I suppose that's what I get for picking something up at
work from the discard pile. I can't imagine that an editor read this
book and thought it was a good idea. The thing is more scattered and
hideously unentertaining than a Mr. Hipster review. The main character,
Winston, is a thug who doesn't give a shit about anybody, and goes
out of his way in every scene to display his ignorance. Beatty tries
to make Winston deep by making him a movie lover who digs obscure
foreign films. The whole idea rings false, and is merely a gimmick
to make us forget about his drug dealing, dog shooting and violent
thuggery. Honestly, the book pissed me off more than anything, as
Beatty seems to be glorifying the stupidity and closed-mindedness
of his characters. The whole plot is merely our main guy, Winston,
going from scene to scene discovering over and over again that he's
an asshole. I fuckin' hated it.
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