It's just ephing insanely brilliant,
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This review is from: My Hands Were Clean (Kindle Edition)You will either love this slim psycho-memoir-prose-poem-mind-trip or you will hate it. I can't imagine any reader falling in the middle. This is evocative, provocative, balls-out writing, and in all the love and hate to come, I want to cast the weight of one overwhelmingly normal, middle-aged literary warhorse on the love side.
MY HANDS WERE CLEAN goes down like Hunter S. Thompson, Salvador Dali, or the intricate work of that lady who tatted stories into lace during her tenure at a Victorian insane asylum. There are uncomfortable moments when you wonder if the author is pranking you and exhilarating moments when you feel like you're partying with Iggy Pop.
I salute any reader brave enough to take it on. Quoting from the opening pages: "The eating of some medium-strength acid might be in order."
Earlier this week, Colleen and I went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", the extraordinary movie based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I loved it. Colleen not s'much. (I was sitting there choked in tears at the end of the three hour film, so I only vaguely remember her saying something about "watching paint dry.") I want to see it again, so I'm trying to get the Gare Bear to go with me this weekend, but I won't be surprised if he reacts the same way Colleen did. The movie is long. And odd. It requires patience and a complete suspension of disbelief that modern audiences simply aren't trained for, so you've got to be in the right mood for it. The same is true of the short story, though the story and script have very little in common -- at least superficially. The story is very Fitzgerald (though it's not an example of his best writing, IMHO), and the setting -- Baltimore during the industrial revolution, Spanish Americ