After trudging through the last book, I appreciate how these quick, perverse, drug induced stories entertained. So in quite a few the main guy liked to "knuckle" twat including one of a thick stripper, as well as his comatose sister that he soon after pulls the plug on. In others, the protagonist is drugged up and makes a visit with a suburban mother that is convinced he has it all together with his degree and fronted job helping children. Then there's the kid that observes from a far his fat friend get constantly bullied and tortured bloody by nail clippers and sewing scissors from other kids in summer camp, then they all witness his downing of a big plastic jug and jump to his death from a canoe into the river. Simply twisted, dark, refreshing and smart.
Something that is also worth picking up is this weeks issue of the New Yorker that features 20 writers under 40... about 8 of them have stories in this issue, one being Jonathan Safran Foer's story, Here We Aren't So Quickly. It's something I didn't expect from him..really in his other books he just sounds like a stinkin' nice guy, but I like how this story showed his edge. Too bad I tore the thing out to give to my coworker and it got folded up and lost forever in a drunkin' state of getting kicked out of the Mumlers show at Blank Club for being too intoxicated... I guess that's something else. But.. I think this resonated with me due to my sudden interest in detrimental relationships, which sound like they can be perfect (trips, marriage, stable job, children), then they end in an entrapment of loneliness. Yea this is just that.. so f'in great.
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