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A Crash Course On the Anatomy of Robots
Damien Wood's path to adulthood in the last decade of the 20th century is marked with effortless success--creative, financial, sexual. Yet his half-Asian lineage with its inherent cultural clashes is coupled with the inability to be touched by feelings or the people around him. Damien's efforts to reach his inner self take him from place to place and one hollow relationship to another, but he remains stuck outside of his experiences, a robot convincingly playing the role of daredevil artist and globetrotter.Then, the century turns. As Damien's mother dies after a long and agonizing illness, and 9/11 inaugurates a reign of fear and terror, his emotions, from desire to despair, begin to emerge unbidden. These birth pangs of humanity send Damien on a mordantly comic, darkly suspenseful quest from the Americas through Southeast Asia in the company of an expatriate colony with too little to lose - including values - until violence comes to claim him as one of its own. No longer a robot, Damien has become a wanted man.A daring hybrid of adventure, verse, and travel fiction, framed by a chronicle of self-revelation in a pitch-perfect voice for the post-millennium, this book heralds the return of a novelist of impressive literary gifts.
- GenresContemporary
336 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2012
3 people are currently reading
91 people want to read
About the author
Kent Evans
2 books7 followersKent Evans is the author of Malas Ondas: Lime, Sand Sex and Salsa in the land of conquistadors, a semi-autobiographical novel about self-destruction throughout Latin America and finding that corniest of motivators – love. He was a fixture on the spoken word and experimental art scene throughout the 90’s, and the internationally acclaimed artist has performed at such venues as the Madison Square Garden Theater, Acadamie Beaux Arts in Paris and Nuvorican Poets Café in Greenwich Village.
Kent has appeared on NPR for shows including Nuestra Palabra, the Front Row, and Living Arts showcase. His creative non-fiction and opinion pieces have appeared in numerous national pop-culture and literary zines and publications.
Having also done technical and academic writing for various Fortune 500 companies, Kent is currently pursuing his artistic craft through music and fiction. His performance of choice involves gathering non-traditional musicians – DJ’s, classical players, Latin funk bands – and performing poetry in a live Jazz/Trip-Hop format.
His forthcoming novel A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots releases September 17, 2012 from Pangea Books.
Half Cantonese and half UK, Kent was born in New York City in 1975 and grew up between New York, Connecticut and Rhode Island. He graduated in psychology and dramatic literature from New York University, and began traveling extensively throughout the US, Canada, Mexico, Europe, Asia, and the Caribbean. He fully expects to answer that “but where are you really from” question the rest of his life.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKentEvans
Kent has appeared on NPR for shows including Nuestra Palabra, the Front Row, and Living Arts showcase. His creative non-fiction and opinion pieces have appeared in numerous national pop-culture and literary zines and publications.
Having also done technical and academic writing for various Fortune 500 companies, Kent is currently pursuing his artistic craft through music and fiction. His performance of choice involves gathering non-traditional musicians – DJ’s, classical players, Latin funk bands – and performing poetry in a live Jazz/Trip-Hop format.
His forthcoming novel A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots releases September 17, 2012 from Pangea Books.
Half Cantonese and half UK, Kent was born in New York City in 1975 and grew up between New York, Connecticut and Rhode Island. He graduated in psychology and dramatic literature from New York University, and began traveling extensively throughout the US, Canada, Mexico, Europe, Asia, and the Caribbean. He fully expects to answer that “but where are you really from” question the rest of his life.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKentEvans
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
December 21, 2012
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this review, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
As regular readers know, I've been tearing through a book a day this December, in an attempt to whittle down my now gigantic to-read list before the holidays are over and I have to get back to regular CCLaP work; and regulars also know that I've been saving up all my "bleh" reviews and running them right before Christmas, in the hopes that the smaller audience at the blog during the holidays will lessen the impact of these so-so to terrible write-ups. And that's because in many of these cases, the books being criticized are not necessarily that bad from an objective standpoint, but just hit a bad nerve when it comes to me in particular; and perhaps there's no greater example of this than Kent Evans' A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots, which even the author admits a few pages in is not much more than a blatant ripoff of McSweeney's founder Dave Eggers, one of the dozens of twee metafictional Postmodernist moments that I know other people love, but to me is like fingernails down a f-cking chalkboard. Essentially the rambling story of a hipster douchebag, and all the hipster-douchebag things he does -- backpacking trips through southeast Asia, falling ass-backwards into easy sex with models, complaining about the "artist's life" while working a series of high-paying corporate gigs, a complete inability to see even the slightest amount of hypocrisy in that -- which of course is written in second person, and of course contains byzantine chapter titles for extra-annoying effect, there is so much navel-gazing going on here that even orange groves in Florida are starting to get nervous; and by the time I got to the part where Damien and his friends claim that a human-rights violation has taken place against their buddy, because the police dared to arrest him simply because he was breaking the law, I decided that I had had enough with these Brooklyn poseurs and their unacknowledged-entitlement misadventures. Like I said, this book has received a lot of praise, so obviously there's a legitimate audience out there for it, and I don't mean to imply that it's badly written because it's not; it just concerns one of those subjects that I not only dislike but that literally sets my nerves on edge, and I think it no coincidence that the author proudly mentions in his bio his past involvement with the 1990s performance-poetry community, because so many of the writers who set my nerves on edge seem to come from this background. Consider yourself warned.
Out of 10: 4.4
As regular readers know, I've been tearing through a book a day this December, in an attempt to whittle down my now gigantic to-read list before the holidays are over and I have to get back to regular CCLaP work; and regulars also know that I've been saving up all my "bleh" reviews and running them right before Christmas, in the hopes that the smaller audience at the blog during the holidays will lessen the impact of these so-so to terrible write-ups. And that's because in many of these cases, the books being criticized are not necessarily that bad from an objective standpoint, but just hit a bad nerve when it comes to me in particular; and perhaps there's no greater example of this than Kent Evans' A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots, which even the author admits a few pages in is not much more than a blatant ripoff of McSweeney's founder Dave Eggers, one of the dozens of twee metafictional Postmodernist moments that I know other people love, but to me is like fingernails down a f-cking chalkboard. Essentially the rambling story of a hipster douchebag, and all the hipster-douchebag things he does -- backpacking trips through southeast Asia, falling ass-backwards into easy sex with models, complaining about the "artist's life" while working a series of high-paying corporate gigs, a complete inability to see even the slightest amount of hypocrisy in that -- which of course is written in second person, and of course contains byzantine chapter titles for extra-annoying effect, there is so much navel-gazing going on here that even orange groves in Florida are starting to get nervous; and by the time I got to the part where Damien and his friends claim that a human-rights violation has taken place against their buddy, because the police dared to arrest him simply because he was breaking the law, I decided that I had had enough with these Brooklyn poseurs and their unacknowledged-entitlement misadventures. Like I said, this book has received a lot of praise, so obviously there's a legitimate audience out there for it, and I don't mean to imply that it's badly written because it's not; it just concerns one of those subjects that I not only dislike but that literally sets my nerves on edge, and I think it no coincidence that the author proudly mentions in his bio his past involvement with the 1990s performance-poetry community, because so many of the writers who set my nerves on edge seem to come from this background. Consider yourself warned.
Out of 10: 4.4
September 3, 2012
I started this book expecting some sort of awesomely sad coming-of-age tale of an awesomely sad Asian kid battling with the paradox of being brought up Chinese in an American society, amidst American values, education, science, and medicine. There is this teeny-weeny section on race in which I and my expectations are perfectly described: “Think of using branding as a metaphor for racism in the commercial lens of American consumerism.” Asian-American has become the Apple brand of literature to me and I have the highest expectations of it.
The book starts slow and I lugged through extensive philosophy, minimal action and drama, poetry, and a bit of bitter humour as saving grace. The first, second, and third-person narratives seemed chronologically disjointed at first, but once I discovered a vague pattern, I knew what to expect. I kept reading it because I am a faithful lover who ignores the minuses in her partner, and also because there are these characters who, though made rare appearances, called out to me.
When I was done with 1/3rd of the book, it became unputdownable. I got into the grind of being fed philosophy at the cost of discovering a rare confessional literature that doesn’t employ the regular art of melodrama. It perhaps falls into place with the lives of everyday men. Damien is an artist who’s lost both his parents early in life. Like the lives of regular people, his life is not guided by a linear plot or a single purpose. Damien does the everyday things like stay up late and play solitaire, get drunk, swear like a maniac, and violate parking rules, and through Damien there is a strong chance you are going to develop some sort of perspective of why you lose your cool every now and then: relationships or the lack of thereof.
Damien is an everyday guy; he is so real that he got on my nerves just like any real, depressed, perhaps seemingly passionless guy would. He is always either drunk or hungover; he complains of being bored, which is perhaps a consequence of being perpetually inebriated, but what do I know having never drunk myself; and he is way too sleazy for me to ever think he can take a woman seriously as something more than a sex object, but his serious relationships suggest maybe he’s depressed and thinks of casual sex as a way out. All of this despite being a traveller, who in theory should be loaded with artistic inspiration and satisfaction.
It’s difficult to predict possible endings because the beginning is so random and it is difficult to imagine a theatrical climax. Sure, it’s a slow story that you might be tempted to quit reading every now and then, but it’s so thought-provoking that you would want to pick it up again if ever you gave up on it. The first part of this novel could pass off as a collection of incohesive essays or even as a memoir, even if fictionalised.
Having looked up Kent Evans, I was tempted to ask him how closely Damien represents him. But then I thought maybe we should be able to read something the author calls a novel without drawing parallels between him and the protagonist, even if he himself calls it autobiographical. It’s not the author’s life we should judge; it’s his work of art.
My favourite lines in the book: “I’m telling you this because in the end we only have each other. No matter how bad a writer is I try to encourage them. I will go to readings and buy books by authors whose work I can’t stand because we’re friends and I want to support them. In a way I’m really just a big fan of art in general. I support these people because someone has to. We’re all alone and underpaid. Major publications like the New York Times still pay 10 cents a word and haven’t changed their pay scale since the 70s. Random House buys more books than any other publisher, like over a hundred a year, but dumps its marketing funds into less than a dozen titles. The others have to make it on their own or become tax write-offs. This is what we’re up against, and we can spend our time tearing each other down or we can help life each other up. I prefer the latter.”
“That’s part of the problem with popular spoken word; it’s like genre writing. People buy it because they know what to expect, you only have to look at the author and you’ll have an idea what’s coming.”
“Poetry is the one genre in both music and writing where you can’t expect much of one. It’s a big loser: the agent loses money (if you by some miracle have one), the house loses money, stores lose money–even the fucking poet loses money–all in the name of what many, including Damien’s agent, believe is a dead or dying art.”
The book starts slow and I lugged through extensive philosophy, minimal action and drama, poetry, and a bit of bitter humour as saving grace. The first, second, and third-person narratives seemed chronologically disjointed at first, but once I discovered a vague pattern, I knew what to expect. I kept reading it because I am a faithful lover who ignores the minuses in her partner, and also because there are these characters who, though made rare appearances, called out to me.
When I was done with 1/3rd of the book, it became unputdownable. I got into the grind of being fed philosophy at the cost of discovering a rare confessional literature that doesn’t employ the regular art of melodrama. It perhaps falls into place with the lives of everyday men. Damien is an artist who’s lost both his parents early in life. Like the lives of regular people, his life is not guided by a linear plot or a single purpose. Damien does the everyday things like stay up late and play solitaire, get drunk, swear like a maniac, and violate parking rules, and through Damien there is a strong chance you are going to develop some sort of perspective of why you lose your cool every now and then: relationships or the lack of thereof.
Damien is an everyday guy; he is so real that he got on my nerves just like any real, depressed, perhaps seemingly passionless guy would. He is always either drunk or hungover; he complains of being bored, which is perhaps a consequence of being perpetually inebriated, but what do I know having never drunk myself; and he is way too sleazy for me to ever think he can take a woman seriously as something more than a sex object, but his serious relationships suggest maybe he’s depressed and thinks of casual sex as a way out. All of this despite being a traveller, who in theory should be loaded with artistic inspiration and satisfaction.
It’s difficult to predict possible endings because the beginning is so random and it is difficult to imagine a theatrical climax. Sure, it’s a slow story that you might be tempted to quit reading every now and then, but it’s so thought-provoking that you would want to pick it up again if ever you gave up on it. The first part of this novel could pass off as a collection of incohesive essays or even as a memoir, even if fictionalised.
Having looked up Kent Evans, I was tempted to ask him how closely Damien represents him. But then I thought maybe we should be able to read something the author calls a novel without drawing parallels between him and the protagonist, even if he himself calls it autobiographical. It’s not the author’s life we should judge; it’s his work of art.
My favourite lines in the book: “I’m telling you this because in the end we only have each other. No matter how bad a writer is I try to encourage them. I will go to readings and buy books by authors whose work I can’t stand because we’re friends and I want to support them. In a way I’m really just a big fan of art in general. I support these people because someone has to. We’re all alone and underpaid. Major publications like the New York Times still pay 10 cents a word and haven’t changed their pay scale since the 70s. Random House buys more books than any other publisher, like over a hundred a year, but dumps its marketing funds into less than a dozen titles. The others have to make it on their own or become tax write-offs. This is what we’re up against, and we can spend our time tearing each other down or we can help life each other up. I prefer the latter.”
“That’s part of the problem with popular spoken word; it’s like genre writing. People buy it because they know what to expect, you only have to look at the author and you’ll have an idea what’s coming.”
“Poetry is the one genre in both music and writing where you can’t expect much of one. It’s a big loser: the agent loses money (if you by some miracle have one), the house loses money, stores lose money–even the fucking poet loses money–all in the name of what many, including Damien’s agent, believe is a dead or dying art.”
September 17, 2012
Original post here: http://offbeatvagabond.blogspot.com/2012/09/arc-review-crash-course-on-anatomy-of.html
Well given my knack for the paranormal, I have surprised myself with something a little different yet again. Now be warned, I have never read anything quite like this so reviewing it may seem a bit unusual. But as I have said, I just can't stick to one thing only, I need to expand my proverbial wings. And I am quite glad I did because I definitely want more.
I must admit, I did have a hard time starting this. Like I said, not my usual read. It starts off like a journal with some humor and philosophical views. Then we get some drama and some poetry. The book changes views constantly and it was strange at first, but you catch on. The more you read it, you find there really is a certain rhythm to the story that takes a life of its own. When I started it, I didn't really know what I was getting into or if this was my thing, but that quickly changed.
A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots is a confessional literature read. My very first one. It is a book about an artist named Damien and his struggle with living after his parents' deaths. We see the beginnings of his downward spiral in depression, but still somehow managing to put on a face for those around you. He is in this state where nothing or nobody seems to effect him. He just rolls with the punches and pretends for the most part. We see the way he is with his friends and the way he is in relationships. Damien has a more philosophical outlook on friendships/relationships. Throughout the whole book, I didn't get a true connection from him with others. Maybe one or two of the girlfriends specifically Maria. I think a lot of why Damien is the way he is (besides his parents deaths) was because of his relationship with Maria.
Now a couple months ago I did a review for a book called Sykosa. In that review, I talk about how it doesn't necessarily have a plot, not in a typical sense anyway. The characters are what moves the story, they tell us what they want us to know. So instead of having one plot (or subplots), we get a story told through Damien's eyes in certain places or at certain times that effect him specifically. I honestly don't think I would have liked this book as much if it were told a different way because Damien felt more real this way. We get to feel what he is feeling and why he is feeling it. I definitely like this fictional memoir and I intend on reading more.
This book is about feeling detached and like a robot. A book about a man putting a mask and going through the motions due to his tragedy. But I love that Damien still searches to find a center, a way to find himself. That is why Damien travels...a lot. There is a lot of traveling in this book and at first I thought it was Damien's way of escaping. But I love how he describes it. It is his way of finding balance. And this book does have a wonderful balance.
I enjoyed this book a lot. I love Evans use of poetry, philosophy, comedy, travel escapades, spoken word and surprisingly, suspense. This may have started slow for me, but it quickly became a book I couldn't put down especially the last few chapters. Wow, I did not expect this book to be The build up of the story was unexpected and even though Damien could be quite depressing, he was a great main character. Like I said, you will relate to him and his ups and downs (mostly downs). A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots is a unique, suspenseful, unpredictable, thought provoking, perceptive read that moves to its own beat.
Well given my knack for the paranormal, I have surprised myself with something a little different yet again. Now be warned, I have never read anything quite like this so reviewing it may seem a bit unusual. But as I have said, I just can't stick to one thing only, I need to expand my proverbial wings. And I am quite glad I did because I definitely want more.
I must admit, I did have a hard time starting this. Like I said, not my usual read. It starts off like a journal with some humor and philosophical views. Then we get some drama and some poetry. The book changes views constantly and it was strange at first, but you catch on. The more you read it, you find there really is a certain rhythm to the story that takes a life of its own. When I started it, I didn't really know what I was getting into or if this was my thing, but that quickly changed.
A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots is a confessional literature read. My very first one. It is a book about an artist named Damien and his struggle with living after his parents' deaths. We see the beginnings of his downward spiral in depression, but still somehow managing to put on a face for those around you. He is in this state where nothing or nobody seems to effect him. He just rolls with the punches and pretends for the most part. We see the way he is with his friends and the way he is in relationships. Damien has a more philosophical outlook on friendships/relationships. Throughout the whole book, I didn't get a true connection from him with others. Maybe one or two of the girlfriends specifically Maria. I think a lot of why Damien is the way he is (besides his parents deaths) was because of his relationship with Maria.
Now a couple months ago I did a review for a book called Sykosa. In that review, I talk about how it doesn't necessarily have a plot, not in a typical sense anyway. The characters are what moves the story, they tell us what they want us to know. So instead of having one plot (or subplots), we get a story told through Damien's eyes in certain places or at certain times that effect him specifically. I honestly don't think I would have liked this book as much if it were told a different way because Damien felt more real this way. We get to feel what he is feeling and why he is feeling it. I definitely like this fictional memoir and I intend on reading more.
This book is about feeling detached and like a robot. A book about a man putting a mask and going through the motions due to his tragedy. But I love that Damien still searches to find a center, a way to find himself. That is why Damien travels...a lot. There is a lot of traveling in this book and at first I thought it was Damien's way of escaping. But I love how he describes it. It is his way of finding balance. And this book does have a wonderful balance.
I enjoyed this book a lot. I love Evans use of poetry, philosophy, comedy, travel escapades, spoken word and surprisingly, suspense. This may have started slow for me, but it quickly became a book I couldn't put down especially the last few chapters. Wow, I did not expect this book to be The build up of the story was unexpected and even though Damien could be quite depressing, he was a great main character. Like I said, you will relate to him and his ups and downs (mostly downs). A Crash Course on the Anatomy of Robots is a unique, suspenseful, unpredictable, thought provoking, perceptive read that moves to its own beat.
September 24, 2012
Is it Damien Wood, Robot or is it Kent Evans, Performance Artist?
Kent Evans confounds the reader with a novel that on the surface is lyrically entertaining but slightly beneath the surface is a line of profound philosophy disguised so thinly that after a few pages or chapters the reader realizes that this book is not only unconventional in the manner in which it was written, but it also challenges us to think in a different modality - and Evans accomplishes this with such ease and apparent simplicity that we forget we are involved in unraveling some serious issues.
About style, the book is, in parts, fiction, travelogue, pseudo-memoir, intermingling narrative passages with poetry, blog posts, and other musings that relate the contemporary life of `mongrel' Damien Woods whose ancestry is divided between the UK and China. His habitus is that of a robot - a successful artist and globetrotter whose existence is seemingly unaffected by the people and situations that surround him. He travels the world - the US, Asia, and Mexico - navigating a construct of personal and professional problems. He lost his dad when he was 19, but his life making a living as a writer and living a relatively simple life makes do until his mother dies and he is forced to alter his life style. He discovers his father altered both the real cause of his death as well as a secretive hidden side of his life. On top of all of this Damien discovers sexual infidelity of his girlfriend and he feels compelled to dramatically change his lifestyle: he resorts to and alcohol and drug fueled trip through Thailand and Southeast Asia where he meets a wide assortment of tourists, travelers, and locals, all of whom play into his new view of his place in the new millennium.
By casting himself as a robot (defined here as `a person who works mechanically without original thought'), he keeps the reader at abeyance while he gradually faces the 21st century with the accompanying explosion/implosion of 9/11. He faces his minstrel wanderer self with the clangor of humanity. Damien's travels offer the author a stage for discussion and exploration of culture and creativity, and while the author peppers this travelogue with moments of sensory excess (aka debauchery), the path toward discovery of the nature of maturity is the very human need our robot seeks.
For the most part Ken Evans' writing style works: he certainly has grasped the contemporary sense of total loss of privacy the Internet has imposed on us and the increasing distance between actual human contact and intimacy hat results. He may be glib in using his blog technique in parts, but it is here that his personal view of where we are in this year of 2012 (and beyond) rises most carefully to the surface. Oh yes, there is a note on the book that the original soundtrack is available on Amazon and on iTunes. The author is also a musician, but I didn't go there.
Grady Harp
Kent Evans confounds the reader with a novel that on the surface is lyrically entertaining but slightly beneath the surface is a line of profound philosophy disguised so thinly that after a few pages or chapters the reader realizes that this book is not only unconventional in the manner in which it was written, but it also challenges us to think in a different modality - and Evans accomplishes this with such ease and apparent simplicity that we forget we are involved in unraveling some serious issues.
About style, the book is, in parts, fiction, travelogue, pseudo-memoir, intermingling narrative passages with poetry, blog posts, and other musings that relate the contemporary life of `mongrel' Damien Woods whose ancestry is divided between the UK and China. His habitus is that of a robot - a successful artist and globetrotter whose existence is seemingly unaffected by the people and situations that surround him. He travels the world - the US, Asia, and Mexico - navigating a construct of personal and professional problems. He lost his dad when he was 19, but his life making a living as a writer and living a relatively simple life makes do until his mother dies and he is forced to alter his life style. He discovers his father altered both the real cause of his death as well as a secretive hidden side of his life. On top of all of this Damien discovers sexual infidelity of his girlfriend and he feels compelled to dramatically change his lifestyle: he resorts to and alcohol and drug fueled trip through Thailand and Southeast Asia where he meets a wide assortment of tourists, travelers, and locals, all of whom play into his new view of his place in the new millennium.
By casting himself as a robot (defined here as `a person who works mechanically without original thought'), he keeps the reader at abeyance while he gradually faces the 21st century with the accompanying explosion/implosion of 9/11. He faces his minstrel wanderer self with the clangor of humanity. Damien's travels offer the author a stage for discussion and exploration of culture and creativity, and while the author peppers this travelogue with moments of sensory excess (aka debauchery), the path toward discovery of the nature of maturity is the very human need our robot seeks.
For the most part Ken Evans' writing style works: he certainly has grasped the contemporary sense of total loss of privacy the Internet has imposed on us and the increasing distance between actual human contact and intimacy hat results. He may be glib in using his blog technique in parts, but it is here that his personal view of where we are in this year of 2012 (and beyond) rises most carefully to the surface. Oh yes, there is a note on the book that the original soundtrack is available on Amazon and on iTunes. The author is also a musician, but I didn't go there.
Grady Harp
September 27, 2012
As a reader whose literary taste was formed by the 19th century romantics, I'm about as far from being a hipster as possible. My favorite books invariably possess a strong, linear storyline and reveal characters through their emotions. Jumping as it does from first- to second- to third-person POV, and incorporating several writing styles, including straight narrative, poetry, travelogue, conversation, and even email, A CRASH COURSE ON THE ANATOMY OF ROBOTS is about as hip and avant-garde as it could be. Not the least of the seeming obstacles to it being "my" kind of book is the fact that its protagonist claims not to be able to feel emotion.
Why then do I love this novel so much? The answer is that it possesses that rare thing coveted by all writers and cherished by readers—an utterly compelling Voice. Although that voice professes to speak for a character rendered robotic by an inability to feel, it powerfully conveys a raw sensitivity that instantly belies the claim.
The recent death of his mother after an agonizing illness, combined with the disturbing discovery of the real cause of his father's earlier demise, has left Damien, the 30-ish protagonist, traumatized and in search of as many self-destructive ways to dull his pain as he can find. His ultimate anesthetic is made up of a combination of sex, alcohol, drugs and travel that proves to be almost lethal on several occasions. It's not particularly "comfortable" stuff for an admittedly tender-hearted member of an older generation. What compels the reader to stay with Damien on this bumpy journey through locales that are exotic in every sense of the word, is his "voice", which is at once lyrical and intense, and capable of inducing the kind of horrified fascination felt by the helpless observer of an inevitable train wreck.
The fact that Damien is still alive at the end of the book is a testament to the resilience of both the fictional hero and the author who has written a wrenchingly honest, confessional roman å clef that defies category, but still manages to satisfy all the requisites of a lover of literature.
Why then do I love this novel so much? The answer is that it possesses that rare thing coveted by all writers and cherished by readers—an utterly compelling Voice. Although that voice professes to speak for a character rendered robotic by an inability to feel, it powerfully conveys a raw sensitivity that instantly belies the claim.
The recent death of his mother after an agonizing illness, combined with the disturbing discovery of the real cause of his father's earlier demise, has left Damien, the 30-ish protagonist, traumatized and in search of as many self-destructive ways to dull his pain as he can find. His ultimate anesthetic is made up of a combination of sex, alcohol, drugs and travel that proves to be almost lethal on several occasions. It's not particularly "comfortable" stuff for an admittedly tender-hearted member of an older generation. What compels the reader to stay with Damien on this bumpy journey through locales that are exotic in every sense of the word, is his "voice", which is at once lyrical and intense, and capable of inducing the kind of horrified fascination felt by the helpless observer of an inevitable train wreck.
The fact that Damien is still alive at the end of the book is a testament to the resilience of both the fictional hero and the author who has written a wrenchingly honest, confessional roman å clef that defies category, but still manages to satisfy all the requisites of a lover of literature.
December 25, 2012
This one of the most engaging books I have read in a long time. Kent weaves a story that pulls you in from the beginning. The opening explanations are so delightfully ambiguous that I was intrigued from the first page. I felt like Damian was a lifelong friend of mine, and I was along with him through all the travels, the troubles, the love, the adventure and all of the delicious poetry. I have long been a fan of Kent's poetry, and enjoyed it throughout. I am one of those readers that doesn't mind poetry mixed into the heart of the story. I was reminded of some of Stephen King's rabbit trails and Tolkien's songs that are mixed right into the fabric of the story.
I think that Kent Evans is truly a Master at his craft, and I hope that this is just the first of many from him. I cannot wait for more. Thank you, Kent. Truly.
I think that Kent Evans is truly a Master at his craft, and I hope that this is just the first of many from him. I cannot wait for more. Thank you, Kent. Truly.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews