Jan 30, 10
Read in January, 2010
If Gabriel Garcia Marquez got knocked up by William Faulkner and birthed a deranged novel that was kept locked up in the basement and beaten daily, it would be 'And The Ass Saw The Angel.'
I don't normally write reviews, but this book keeps tumbling around in my mind like shoes in a dryer. I read a review on here that said (and I'm paraphrasing) that immediately after finishing the book, the reviewer wanted to 're-read it armed with a battle axe.' That, I think, is most appropriate given the feelings left with after this book.
So, I had originally intended to talk about the book, discuss interpretations and whatnot, what was made meaningful and all that garbage, but I won't. I will NOT. I will make you work for it, because I had to. And I appreciate it more that way.
However, for future readers experiencing trouble, I have this advice: Let Cave's overwrought, but insidiously beautiful words, and the snarling insanity wash over you, holding onto the word "mirror" like a life raft, and you just might make it to the end of the novel and be better for it.
There. That's all you're gettin'.