A lot of depressing books buck me up in some odd way…THE GRAPES OF WRATH impressed upon me the essential dignity and humanity of the downtrodden, working poor; FAHRENHEIT 451 celebrates the bravery of a small clique of bookreading nerds in the face of overwheming mediocrity.
Early Knut Hamsun always bugs me: PAN, VICTORIA, MYSTERIES, HUNGER. The utter failure of his characters to communicate, their obstinacy in CONTINUALLY doing the wrong thing to ensure future happiness, never fails to make my skin crawl. I’m always shakin’ my fist at the book and yelling.
“Go and TALK to the chick, man! Don’t let that clerk cut you out…Eat something! No, don’t eat so fast, you’ll puke…ah, MAAAAAN…Whatever you do, don’t shoot your dog and leave it on her doorstep…oh, MAAAAN…”