Amazing that an introduction can make the book that much more touching. As personal as a novel can get, I...moreFinally, I have completed my first Vonnegut.
Amazing that an introduction can make the book that much more touching. As personal as a novel can get, I guess. And as I read, I envisioned my future and my present wrapped into one, my Zeke and me lying as lovers in our fifties and happy, staring into faces I know to be real. Maybe it IS smart to focus only on beautiful things and put wars away in closed dark cabinets.(less)
This book revives my desire to want to do some good theatre, where everyone is working their asses off and is rewarded by a phenomenal production and...moreThis book revives my desire to want to do some good theatre, where everyone is working their asses off and is rewarded by a phenomenal production and a feeling of accomplishment. It makes me want to learn to be a better actress. It makes me want to spend hours and hours and days and days with my friends, late nights giggling on rooftops and stoops and patios with cocktails and the unbreakable "theatre-person" bond, only to get up early in the morning to make it to production meetings and rehearsals and another day in the life. Good times.
Regarding the two-star rating in spite of the four-star sentiment I'm feeling, allow me to explain very simply. The Goodreads description of this book is as follows:
Two theater-mad, self-invented, fabulositon Ohio teenagers.
One boy, one girl. One gay, one straight. One black, one white.
And SUMMER DRAMA CAMP.
It's a season of hormones, gold lamé, hissy fits, jazz hands, song and dance, true love, and unitards
that will determine their future and test their friendship.
These things are all true. But it also contains whining. It's one of those books where the protagonist is difficult to like. I can see my high school self in her so very much, which is just depressing and embarrassing. I found it to be much more juvenile (or should I say adolescent?) than I expected. Which, now that I think about it, is the very reason I don't do as much theatre anymore...(less)
The good guys win. Don't act surprised--it's billed as a love story after all.
At first, I loved this book because it was so lovely and loving and in l...moreThe good guys win. Don't act surprised--it's billed as a love story after all.
At first, I loved this book because it was so lovely and loving and in love. It was almost silly-cute and completely unrealistic. Like some kind of literary ballet, complete with twinkling and tremulos. But I was only half-way through the book--hell, it couldn't have gone on like that forever! I KNEW something bad was bound to happen. And then it did. Something bad. Something really really bad. Something...REALISTIC!
What the fuck???????????
YOU RUINED MY BALLET! How dare some Mr. Right Now come in off the street and ruin the perfect courtship? How dare sex replace love? How dare Agathe get scared and how dare she have doubts and how dare she make wrong decisions? How dare real life come in, stomping around and putting dirty footprints all over my clean white pages of this work of FICTION??? And this was fresh-laid marley, too. I'm mad at you, Truth! Look what you did to Agathe! And poor Tibo Krovic!!! Only Anna Karenina might know what it is to suffer like you've suffered, ol' Tibo.
I'm glad the bits of magic brought me back to a willing suspension of disbelief. And the bits that stroked my hair and snuggled me and reassured me and snuck a tutu or two out from the wings--those bits were good. I think my heart stopped beating once or twice out of pure sadness, but somebody came and massaged it back to life. I'm pretty sure it was deus ex machina.
Oh. My. God. This play deserves every hint of praise and recognition it's ever been given. A perfect blend of realistic household bullshit and and spe...moreOh. My. God. This play deserves every hint of praise and recognition it's ever been given. A perfect blend of realistic household bullshit and and spectacularly weird fuckeduppery, the Weston family grabbed my heart and ripped it out through my tearducts.
How can you know when enough is enough? Or when it's not enough? How do you swim through oceanic waves of family crisis, when the breakers are nothing but violent reflections of your own personal doom? Goddamnit. This play is both human and animal at the same time. And regardless of the fact that some of the shit that goes down is pretty twisty, I'm astounded by Letts' perfect psychological portrayal of humanity kicking itself in the crotch. Repeatedly.
I read this book, tense with fear, knowing that terrible things happen when animals are featured in books yet hoping for a happy ending. And I read th...moreI read this book, tense with fear, knowing that terrible things happen when animals are featured in books yet hoping for a happy ending. And I read the ending, holding back sobs, knowing that this book has the best possible ending and maybe even a better one than I'd wished for. I'm still sad, but filled with love and hope and admiration at the same time. The Kettlesons are good people. Love!(less)
I've always been a sucker for a brotherhood story. Or a fellowship story, if you will. (<--LOTR Reference) I get all choked up and want to throw my...moreI've always been a sucker for a brotherhood story. Or a fellowship story, if you will. (<--LOTR Reference) I get all choked up and want to throw myself into a cause and fight for what's right and good and for what is love. And then someone dies and I grow weary and collapse. That's what happened here. Big-picture-wise.
Little-pictures-wise, I super loved all the beginning parts where they went off and learned all the Taos and Confucies and all and how Josh became enlightened and then decided to become a Bodhisattva for his people. I loved the Yeti parts. I loved the silliness. I loved the BFFishness. I hated all the sex. And at the end, I especially hated that I lost the humanity in Josh. He became a character I no longer felt like I was spending time with. I didn't care if he was crucified or not. And I got bored by Biff and didn't feel his emotion or reasoning (or lack thereof) or drive. It kinda sucked. Gimme 50 more pages and do some depth of character please, Christopher Moore. But anyway, did I mention how I'm a sucker for a brotherhood story? Oh yeah. Complaints aside, this book really hit the spot. I wept. And I wanna read some religious texts, too.
(Ok, I cried some. I didn't actually weep. But I think I'm funny and was referring to the Bible verse: "Jesus wept." See? I'm funny.) Goodnight!(less)