What do you think?
Rate this book
The Year of Endless Sorrows
New York City, the early 1990 the recession is in full swing and young people are squatting in abandoned buildings in the East Village while the homeless riot in Tompkins Square Park. The Internet is not part of daily life; the term "dot-com" has yet to be coined; and people's financial bubbles are burst for an entirely different set of reasons. What can all this mean for a young Midwestern man flush with promise, toiling at a thankless, poverty-wage job in corporate America, and hard at work on his first novel about acute knee pain and the end of the world?
With The Year of Endless Sorrows , acclaimed playwright and finalist for the 2003 William Saroyan International Prize for Writing Adam Rapp brings readers a hilarious picaresque reminiscent of Nick Hornby, Douglas Copeland, and Rick Moody at their best―a chronicle of the joys of love, the horrors of sex, the burden of roommates, and the rude discovery that despite your best efforts, life may not unfold as you had once planned.
With The Year of Endless Sorrows , acclaimed playwright and finalist for the 2003 William Saroyan International Prize for Writing Adam Rapp brings readers a hilarious picaresque reminiscent of Nick Hornby, Douglas Copeland, and Rick Moody at their best―a chronicle of the joys of love, the horrors of sex, the burden of roommates, and the rude discovery that despite your best efforts, life may not unfold as you had once planned.
405 pages, Paperback
First published December 26, 2006
13 people are currently reading
264 people want to read
About the author
Adam Rapp
53 books306 followersAdam Rapp says that when he was working on his chilling, compulsively readable young adult novel 33 SNOWFISH, he was haunted by several questions. Among them: "When we have nowhere to go, who do we turn to? Why are we sometimes drawn to those who are deeply troubled? How far do we have to run before we find new possibilities?"
At once harrowing and hypnotic, 33 SNOWFISH--which was nominated as a Best Book for Young Adults by the American Library Association--follows three troubled young people on the run in a stolen car with a kidnapped baby in tow. With the language of the street and lyrical prose, Adam Rapp hurtles the reader into the world of lost children, a world that is not for the faint of heart. His narration captures the voices of two damaged souls (a third speaks only through drawings) to tell a story of alienation, deprivation, and ultimately, the saving power of compassion. "For those readers who are ready to be challenged by a serious work of shockingly realistic fiction," notes SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL, "it invites both an emotional and intellectual response, and begs to be discussed."
Adam Rapp’s first novel, MISSING THE PIANO, was named a Best Book for Young Adults as well as a Best Book for Reluctant Readers by the American Library Association. His subsequent titles include THE BUFFALO TREE, THE COPPER ELEPHANT, and LITTLE CHICAGO, which was chosen as a New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age. The author’s raw, stream-of-consciousness writing style has earned him critical acclaim. "Rapp’s prose is powerful, graphic and haunting," says SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL. [He] writes in an earthy but adept language," says KIRKUS REVIEWS. "Takes a mesmerizing hold on the reader," adds HORN BOOK MAGAZINE.
In addition to being a novelist, Adam Rapp is also an accomplished and award-winning playwright. His plays--including NOCTURNE, ANIMALS AND PLANTS, BLACKBIRD, and STONE COLD DEAD SERIOUS--have been produced by the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the New York Theatre Workshop, and the Bush Theatre in London, among other venues.
Born and raised in Chicago, the novelist and playwright now lives in New York City.
At once harrowing and hypnotic, 33 SNOWFISH--which was nominated as a Best Book for Young Adults by the American Library Association--follows three troubled young people on the run in a stolen car with a kidnapped baby in tow. With the language of the street and lyrical prose, Adam Rapp hurtles the reader into the world of lost children, a world that is not for the faint of heart. His narration captures the voices of two damaged souls (a third speaks only through drawings) to tell a story of alienation, deprivation, and ultimately, the saving power of compassion. "For those readers who are ready to be challenged by a serious work of shockingly realistic fiction," notes SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL, "it invites both an emotional and intellectual response, and begs to be discussed."
Adam Rapp’s first novel, MISSING THE PIANO, was named a Best Book for Young Adults as well as a Best Book for Reluctant Readers by the American Library Association. His subsequent titles include THE BUFFALO TREE, THE COPPER ELEPHANT, and LITTLE CHICAGO, which was chosen as a New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age. The author’s raw, stream-of-consciousness writing style has earned him critical acclaim. "Rapp’s prose is powerful, graphic and haunting," says SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL. [He] writes in an earthy but adept language," says KIRKUS REVIEWS. "Takes a mesmerizing hold on the reader," adds HORN BOOK MAGAZINE.
In addition to being a novelist, Adam Rapp is also an accomplished and award-winning playwright. His plays--including NOCTURNE, ANIMALS AND PLANTS, BLACKBIRD, and STONE COLD DEAD SERIOUS--have been produced by the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the New York Theatre Workshop, and the Bush Theatre in London, among other venues.
Born and raised in Chicago, the novelist and playwright now lives in New York City.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 71 reviews
August 18, 2010
Eloquently and accurately captures the time and place of being young, literary, in love and living on the Lower East Side on its verge of gentrification. It's like I was there--oh, wait, I was!
April 27, 2023
This book was like rent but sadder, grosser, and with significantly less Idina Menzel. Which I guess makes sense given who the author is.
March 25, 2025
One of the best writing I’ve read. Also this book was hilarious.
May 17, 2009
Part of me wants to give this book four stars, but I have to be honest - about half way through I gave up and just read the last chapter to get it finished.
Many times while reading I felt as if I were fa-la-la-la-ing through an adult Dr. Seuss story. The technique and style were very clever in the beginning, but after awhile I got tired and sometimes frustrated. Also, there were many similes/comparisons that frankly made no sense at all and sometimes I had to stop reading to try to figure out what in the heck the writer meant when putting the two things together. I meant to copy a sample before returning the book to the library but forgot.
With all that said, there were parts that made me laugh out loud - and overall I understand what the writer was getting at - and so I hate to say this isn't a good book - it is. It's just different and one will either stick with the writing style or give up on it. But - I would definitely read other works by this writer - just to see how he writes.
Many times while reading I felt as if I were fa-la-la-la-ing through an adult Dr. Seuss story. The technique and style were very clever in the beginning, but after awhile I got tired and sometimes frustrated. Also, there were many similes/comparisons that frankly made no sense at all and sometimes I had to stop reading to try to figure out what in the heck the writer meant when putting the two things together. I meant to copy a sample before returning the book to the library but forgot.
With all that said, there were parts that made me laugh out loud - and overall I understand what the writer was getting at - and so I hate to say this isn't a good book - it is. It's just different and one will either stick with the writing style or give up on it. But - I would definitely read other works by this writer - just to see how he writes.
March 7, 2009
This was definitely Adam Rapp's worst book, which is a shame -- his young adult novels are wonderful, but this was sorely lacking. Being Rapp, it was beautifully written, but it was also dull as dishwater. I spent the whole book waiting for something to happen, and nothing did. There was no suspense, no action, nothing but a trickle of beautiful and unusual phrases. Please, please just read Little Chicago or The Copper Elephant before you read this pretentious waste of paper.
January 10, 2008
This is the story of a young author's first year in NYC in the early 90s. Basically an extreme version of anything that's ever happened to you in New York, disgustingly mythical roommates, questionable loft living, working terribly stifling office jobs while dreaming of working at the creative job you actually came to NY to work on in the first place. While all of this sounds extremely depressing its actually a very funny book.
Its a good read if you want to remind yourself how far you've come, or to remind yourself how you felt in that terrible first year after college.
Its a good read if you want to remind yourself how far you've come, or to remind yourself how you felt in that terrible first year after college.
April 19, 2024
THE YEAR OF ENDLESS SORROWS by Adam Rapp broke my heart. It's unbelievably funny, some may say overwritten, but in this early novel by a well-known playwright, I found myself engrossed after a somewhat muddled opening. Rapp is a wordsmith for sure, and his use of language is thrilling. I found myself reading passages aloud to my wife--so many were so funny--but the culmination of this coming-of-age novel ripped into me. I loved the narrator and his various quests, and while many purposely strain credulity, they all are absolutely hilarious. Rapp has an instinctive way of telling stories, this novel somewhat picaresque, but they do add up to something substantial, provocative, and wonderful. Eric Bogosian writes, "If Joyce Carol Oates and Charles Bukowski had a kid, he would be Adam Rapp." I do think that summarizes his style, but the surprise is, amidst all of the language play and discrete chapters lies a tragic heart. His later novel WOLF AT THE TABLE, which I loved and is certainly more sophisticated, illustrates his growth, but I loved this one too. Very masculine, clumsy at times, but worth the read.
December 11, 2019
Coming of age novel. I think every high school kid should read. Raw, honest and humorous look at the early days of trying to make it on your own after graduation. Lots of emphasis on the consequence of your actions, some dreams are alters by circumstance and are a success while others give up everything.
June 12, 2020
The title of the book itself tells us a lot about the book. The year of endless sorrows. I really enjoyed reading this book, not because I’m a sadistic person, but because of how interestingly descriptive this book was. The metaphors were so apt and hilarious at times; the characters- whackjobs of their own.
November 2, 2022
This is THE best book I have ever read. Rapp's dark, vivid descriptions fully immersed me in the characters and their locations. He writes with such beauty, sadness, and humor that I was literally shaking my head in awe at every page turn--and annoying my friends with endless pics of brilliant paragraphs. Seriously. It was THAT good!
June 27, 2011
Beautiful prose about disgusting things. Any time the phrase "cradling our baby's remains" appears in a novel, you should stop reading it. That is my advice to you.
"I kept my slowly growing novel in the freezer. I had been working on it for months. I liked the idea of putting a day's work in th a sealed compartment designed for preserving food; it somehow married the ideas of nutritional and intellectual subsistence." - p. 53
"It has to do with acute knee pain and the end of the world." - repeated line
"Moments later I was joined by Ford McGowan, Stafford Davidson's star editorial assistant, with his Ivy League hair and teeth so white you'd have thought they must be stolen." - p. 69
"Several of the young women from publicity ambled over in their beige Banana Republic slacks and hennaed hair, the smell of Wella Balsam fruit drifting in their wake. These were the very women of whom I was terrified. Not only were they pretty, they smelled nice, were obvious masters of the more complicated fitness machinery at their local gyms, and possessed multiple Ivy League degrees. They also had studied abroad, could speak French and other difficult Romance languages, and had intricate knowledge of independent films and obscure Bordeaux wines. To them, I was just some dopey-eyed, cowlicked white guy from the Midwest who had, through some fabled Kansan miracle, lucked into the job (an impression that wasn't entirely wrong). I always thought of these women as belonging to a well-dresesd, vaguely Amazonian breed of corporate carnivores who sleep with midlevel management not for the purchase of that highly coveted promotion, but merely for an opportunity to be invited to some sacrosanct, inviolable book party. I loathed them. And I stared them down Wild West style. And I wanted to sleep with each of them, to force myself deep into their overly educated, velveteen vaginas." - p. 75
"We walked like we were lab partners and she had all the results." - p. 106
"After twelve weeks of collecting unemployment, Feick landed a role in an Off-Broadway play in Chelsea, at the Atlantis Theatre Company's production of something called Traffic Lights and Broken Bridges. He performed the role of Tiny, an adolescent, slightly Peter Pan-ish homosexual runaway who wears only paper underpants." - p. 114
"His hair was long and messy. I would even say he had rock-band hair, and in that moment I realized that we had been driving apart for some time, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started happening." - p. 116
"It was my first lunch with a vegetarian. ...I had to protect myself from the arch, homogenized pitch of her speaking voice and the predatory cut of her editorial pantsuit and her English degree from Brown with its concentration in the late-twentieth-century American novel." - p. 121
"The Loach was wearing his yellowed underwear and a black turtleneck, and he looked like a malnourished street mime who had been raped." - p. 139
"I was already out of my body. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, like some kind of noble gas, I was hovering near the trays of fluorescent lights above.
'Oh, poor boy,' my gas self wept to my human self. 'Oh, poor, lost, terrible boy.'" - p. 183
"In our family laughter was always followed by epic bouts of sighing. It was like a household law: no laughing without at least two accompanying sighs. It's why at the age fourteen I decided to stop laughing; I couldn't bear to hear myself making that weary sound." - p. 159
"Instead we talked about editors. We talked about their hair and their funny glasses. We talked about who had an ass and who didn't have an ass. We talked about general editorial asslessness." - p. 192
"The bald trees trembled in the Novocain breeze like arthritic hands." - p. 200
"I'm so homophobic I can't even look at myself naked." - p. 215
"For a few brief moments the world seemed so full of possibility, and even things that I hadn't eaten yet tasted delicious." - p. 266
"When our mouths finally found each other, their union was followed by groping hands, interlocking legs, awkwardly shed clothes, and a vision of female nudity that surpasses all flora, trees, birds, waterfalls, lily pads, unicorns, mermaids, lightning storms, spiderwebs, robin eggs, twilit buffalo, celestial corona, and other prodigy and phenomena of Mother Nature's various manifestations of perfection.
Making love with Basha wasn't so much a physical act as it was a kind of time-travel lesson in the origins of human feeling and quixotic pleasure. It was like falling into a deep, dark, soporific pond whose breathable, velveteen waters were derived of the purest opiate; a standing volume of narcotic liquid to which there was no foreseeable bottom." - p. 272
"Ford's sexual digestive system could be likened to an eight-year-old's insatiable desire for Oreo cookies and gum." - p. 324
"I am resisting my automaton nemesis self. I will fight the Valvoline bloodstream, the carburetor heart." - p. 363
"I thought about getting a six-figure advance and all that I could do with that kind of money. I imagined myself wearing reflecting sunglasses, driving a European sports car, and growing a lot of chest hair." - p. 387
"I kept my slowly growing novel in the freezer. I had been working on it for months. I liked the idea of putting a day's work in th a sealed compartment designed for preserving food; it somehow married the ideas of nutritional and intellectual subsistence." - p. 53
"It has to do with acute knee pain and the end of the world." - repeated line
"Moments later I was joined by Ford McGowan, Stafford Davidson's star editorial assistant, with his Ivy League hair and teeth so white you'd have thought they must be stolen." - p. 69
"Several of the young women from publicity ambled over in their beige Banana Republic slacks and hennaed hair, the smell of Wella Balsam fruit drifting in their wake. These were the very women of whom I was terrified. Not only were they pretty, they smelled nice, were obvious masters of the more complicated fitness machinery at their local gyms, and possessed multiple Ivy League degrees. They also had studied abroad, could speak French and other difficult Romance languages, and had intricate knowledge of independent films and obscure Bordeaux wines. To them, I was just some dopey-eyed, cowlicked white guy from the Midwest who had, through some fabled Kansan miracle, lucked into the job (an impression that wasn't entirely wrong). I always thought of these women as belonging to a well-dresesd, vaguely Amazonian breed of corporate carnivores who sleep with midlevel management not for the purchase of that highly coveted promotion, but merely for an opportunity to be invited to some sacrosanct, inviolable book party. I loathed them. And I stared them down Wild West style. And I wanted to sleep with each of them, to force myself deep into their overly educated, velveteen vaginas." - p. 75
"We walked like we were lab partners and she had all the results." - p. 106
"After twelve weeks of collecting unemployment, Feick landed a role in an Off-Broadway play in Chelsea, at the Atlantis Theatre Company's production of something called Traffic Lights and Broken Bridges. He performed the role of Tiny, an adolescent, slightly Peter Pan-ish homosexual runaway who wears only paper underpants." - p. 114
"His hair was long and messy. I would even say he had rock-band hair, and in that moment I realized that we had been driving apart for some time, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started happening." - p. 116
"It was my first lunch with a vegetarian. ...I had to protect myself from the arch, homogenized pitch of her speaking voice and the predatory cut of her editorial pantsuit and her English degree from Brown with its concentration in the late-twentieth-century American novel." - p. 121
"The Loach was wearing his yellowed underwear and a black turtleneck, and he looked like a malnourished street mime who had been raped." - p. 139
"I was already out of my body. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, like some kind of noble gas, I was hovering near the trays of fluorescent lights above.
'Oh, poor boy,' my gas self wept to my human self. 'Oh, poor, lost, terrible boy.'" - p. 183
"In our family laughter was always followed by epic bouts of sighing. It was like a household law: no laughing without at least two accompanying sighs. It's why at the age fourteen I decided to stop laughing; I couldn't bear to hear myself making that weary sound." - p. 159
"Instead we talked about editors. We talked about their hair and their funny glasses. We talked about who had an ass and who didn't have an ass. We talked about general editorial asslessness." - p. 192
"The bald trees trembled in the Novocain breeze like arthritic hands." - p. 200
"I'm so homophobic I can't even look at myself naked." - p. 215
"For a few brief moments the world seemed so full of possibility, and even things that I hadn't eaten yet tasted delicious." - p. 266
"When our mouths finally found each other, their union was followed by groping hands, interlocking legs, awkwardly shed clothes, and a vision of female nudity that surpasses all flora, trees, birds, waterfalls, lily pads, unicorns, mermaids, lightning storms, spiderwebs, robin eggs, twilit buffalo, celestial corona, and other prodigy and phenomena of Mother Nature's various manifestations of perfection.
Making love with Basha wasn't so much a physical act as it was a kind of time-travel lesson in the origins of human feeling and quixotic pleasure. It was like falling into a deep, dark, soporific pond whose breathable, velveteen waters were derived of the purest opiate; a standing volume of narcotic liquid to which there was no foreseeable bottom." - p. 272
"Ford's sexual digestive system could be likened to an eight-year-old's insatiable desire for Oreo cookies and gum." - p. 324
"I am resisting my automaton nemesis self. I will fight the Valvoline bloodstream, the carburetor heart." - p. 363
"I thought about getting a six-figure advance and all that I could do with that kind of money. I imagined myself wearing reflecting sunglasses, driving a European sports car, and growing a lot of chest hair." - p. 387
March 9, 2018
Squalor. Tension. Verbosity & vocabulary. And, as promised in the title, slow simmering sorrows.
January 18, 2024
quirky characters set in 90's NYC made for a good read. There were parts where I laughed out loud. Sad part too, but just a unique book.
September 24, 2011
I really enjoyed reading this book. Rapp is a beautiful writer, and I found myself copying down many passages for future perusal. I also found myself wishing I could be as eloquent in my writing (and in my thoughts about New York City) as he is.
I laughed out loud quite a bit reading this book, but I often felt like crying, too. This book follows Opie (also nicknamed Homon), whose real name we never learn - which, in and of itself, makes me feel sad. I suppose it's not unusual to not know a protagonist's name, but here it is intentional, as Rapp has Opie/Homon meet people throughout this novel, and while we see the interaction, Opie/Homon usually tells us that he gave his name, or introduced himself. We see the other conversationalist's portion of the dialogue, but not Opie/Homon's. Read into that what you will.
Opie/Homon has moved from the midwest to New York City, and works at a big publishing company. He lives with some crazy roommates, dates some crazy women, and interacts with a lot of crazy people in general. His observations of New York City and some of its truths (okay, perceived truths, as they just happened to be things I agreed with) made me feel as if Rapp had predicted my experience here in some ways (I wish I'd read this before I arrived in the big city!).
This book may not be for everyone, but I will hold it near and dear as a book that echoes feelings of my time in New York thus far.
I laughed out loud quite a bit reading this book, but I often felt like crying, too. This book follows Opie (also nicknamed Homon), whose real name we never learn - which, in and of itself, makes me feel sad. I suppose it's not unusual to not know a protagonist's name, but here it is intentional, as Rapp has Opie/Homon meet people throughout this novel, and while we see the interaction, Opie/Homon usually tells us that he gave his name, or introduced himself. We see the other conversationalist's portion of the dialogue, but not Opie/Homon's. Read into that what you will.
Opie/Homon has moved from the midwest to New York City, and works at a big publishing company. He lives with some crazy roommates, dates some crazy women, and interacts with a lot of crazy people in general. His observations of New York City and some of its truths (okay, perceived truths, as they just happened to be things I agreed with) made me feel as if Rapp had predicted my experience here in some ways (I wish I'd read this before I arrived in the big city!).
This book may not be for everyone, but I will hold it near and dear as a book that echoes feelings of my time in New York thus far.
March 10, 2016
Having read a couple other of Rapp's books with happy results, I was looking forward to this one, though I was probably a little biased by the gnome on the cover. That gnome led me astray. I'm not going to go too deep with a review, because I wasn't able to finish the book. Though a foray into Rapp's writing is generally a fun way to tickle your brain, I spent the first half of this book waiting for something to happen, and nothing really did, so I gave up. The chapters are rather disjointed, so there's no real story flowing here, and the guy in this book (we never learn his actual name) is such a dufus; the situations he gets in and the BS he puts up with from his disgusting roommates...seriously, who really lives like that? You graduated from college, but you can't figure out how to not dress like a schlub? Or make friends? Or buy normal groceries? And it's really OK that your non-rent-paying pants-eschewing roommate just shit in front of you WHILE you were trying to get the toilet to work? No, it's not. Wash your damn laundry, kick the manky freeloading dirtbag off your couch, and spend some time outside of your own head so you can actually get to know people. That's my advice to the people in this book. Who I realize aren't real. But still. It had to be said.
June 2, 2007
This is Rapp's first "adult novel" (he's written several young adult novels as well as some plays). I'm not sure that I would be enchanted by it if I were a real adult, but I'm a sucker for books where I have something in common with the protagonist. The narrator is a 22 year-old writer who grew up in the Midwest, went to a liberal arts college, and then moved to New York. The story chronicles a year or so of his life in the city in the early 1990s, which includes squatting in a building in the East Village, collecting unemployment checks, and dealing with bizarre roommates and neighbors. The narrative is in the first person, and as far as I remember we never learn the narrator's given name. I'm wouldn't say that the novel is autobiographical, but since Rapp is also a writer of Midwestern origin who moved to New York (although on a fellowship at Juilliard) the "starving artist" details feel real.
Also, it made me laugh out loud on the train.
Also, it made me laugh out loud on the train.
September 26, 2013
Rapp's word choices constructed in my brain a merry-go-round of linguistic delight. I will randomly crack open the book right now and type a line or two just for you:
"After four grim flights of stairs ... the sight of the Loach on the slowly darkening sofa wasn't exactly what I would call Happy Hour Nirvana. As usual, I gazed upon a lack of clothing and an abundance of thinning-yet-always-resilient tufts of simian hair and the the imitation topaz toenails and the bullet-hole eyes and smelled the general noisome odor of liverwurst and scalp sebum. His mouth was hanging so far open I could see a vague uvular projection that was either esophageal tissue or Doritos phlegm."
Without such word rides to spin me around during my time in these 400 pages, I wouldn't have finished the book. Its story did not impel me to do so, though I did enjoy Basha's character...but again, mostly because of what she said.
"After four grim flights of stairs ... the sight of the Loach on the slowly darkening sofa wasn't exactly what I would call Happy Hour Nirvana. As usual, I gazed upon a lack of clothing and an abundance of thinning-yet-always-resilient tufts of simian hair and the the imitation topaz toenails and the bullet-hole eyes and smelled the general noisome odor of liverwurst and scalp sebum. His mouth was hanging so far open I could see a vague uvular projection that was either esophageal tissue or Doritos phlegm."
Without such word rides to spin me around during my time in these 400 pages, I wouldn't have finished the book. Its story did not impel me to do so, though I did enjoy Basha's character...but again, mostly because of what she said.
September 17, 2007
i quit this book. despite that i have oodles in common with the protagonist - midwest boy turned poor new york publishing house slag, among other quirks - and that i did find the writing entertaining at times, rapp's tragicomic self-indulgences reek nauseatingly of dave eggars' heartbreaking work of (oh god look how simultaneously touching and funny i can make my) staggering(ly formulaic and vaguely factual memoir-novel) genius. if i remember, they do right to compare the novel with eggars and hornby on the leaf, though i think hornby often does a bit better. if i'm not mistaken, rick moody was mentioned, too, but despite moody's forays into 21st century quarter-life crisis memoir, i don't think he deserves the disservice. sorry i left this on your coffee table, noreen. don't read it.
December 18, 2012
I regret finishing this book. I read its 400 pages hoping it would get better, but instead it only grew more frustrating as the protagonist became more and more annoying and sinned-against.
It was overwritten, with way too many similes and paragraph after paragraph of descriptions. Rapp tries to be funny and cute and fails over and over again. I didn't like any of the characters, and indeed, almost grew to loathe the nameless protagonist, so that by the end I was glad that horrible things happened to him.
I think that maybe, maybe, I would have enjoyed this book if I read it when I was 15, simply because of the immaturity of the narrator and the gross-out humor. I'm giving it two stars instead of one because, for some reason, I actually read the whole thing, so I suppose the author did something right, although I'll be damned if I can identify what it was.
It was overwritten, with way too many similes and paragraph after paragraph of descriptions. Rapp tries to be funny and cute and fails over and over again. I didn't like any of the characters, and indeed, almost grew to loathe the nameless protagonist, so that by the end I was glad that horrible things happened to him.
I think that maybe, maybe, I would have enjoyed this book if I read it when I was 15, simply because of the immaturity of the narrator and the gross-out humor. I'm giving it two stars instead of one because, for some reason, I actually read the whole thing, so I suppose the author did something right, although I'll be damned if I can identify what it was.
December 15, 2016
What attracted me to this book was how timely this was to my current set of circumstances, most especially since the main character who grew up in a quiet town all his life moved to a bustling city and got employed in a publishing house. This book will make you smile with its offbeat humor, break your heart with the realization of how naive and idealistic young twentysomethings can be and how those ideas can be shattered when real life takes place, and will make you realize that no matter how much we try to get rid of our humble beginnings and identity, we will always come home to it at the end of the day. And that no matter how shitty life gets, life will always manage to turn around for the best.
May 12, 2012
I really dont know how to describe this book. Rapp spends so much time doing character development that the plot really gets very little attention. The writing itself is very eloquent and descriptive and the characters are almost larger than life really but the story goes nowhere and I was left with a feeling of incompleteness when I finished the last page. I felt ripped off, all these great characters drew me in but then so much is left untold.
I'm certainly going to look at more of his work, I have no doubt there will be several diamonds among his work. The man certainly has a gift for words and an incredible vocabulary.
I'm certainly going to look at more of his work, I have no doubt there will be several diamonds among his work. The man certainly has a gift for words and an incredible vocabulary.
April 29, 2013
I wanted to like this book about an entry-level publishing worker in the early 90s but the stream of homophobic and misogynist language and plot choices and characterizations put me off (for some reason). Also the chapters and chapters of fart jokes. Also the anachronisms in a novel supposedly about its setting. Also the unironic and repeated use of the phrase "making love." Only for those who enjoy reading about self-pitying upper-middle class straight white men and their whimsical adventures in the city.
September 15, 2010
There were many things that I liked about this book and there were several parts that were laugh out loud funny (almost anything including The Loach). What I didn't like was that Rapp seems to be addicted to using similes and metaphors, averaging one third sentence, and it became distracting. As I read, I kept wondering what odd comparision he would be making in the next sentence.
And the ending was way out of left field for me. For such a humorous novel, I didn't care for the dark ending.
And the ending was way out of left field for me. For such a humorous novel, I didn't care for the dark ending.
June 7, 2007
The story just keeps alluring me to read on until i read finish it. Very addictive. Very funny.
Things never turn out the way to be, but for the protagonist, the life is getting better even as he rants about his 'weird' room-mates, crazy sex-life and warped up ambition to be an author.
The ending is too much of a tragedy, but its a sharp reminder that life is never too smooth sailing.
Best to be read with a light heart.
Things never turn out the way to be, but for the protagonist, the life is getting better even as he rants about his 'weird' room-mates, crazy sex-life and warped up ambition to be an author.
The ending is too much of a tragedy, but its a sharp reminder that life is never too smooth sailing.
Best to be read with a light heart.
July 10, 2008
Reading this book by Adam Rapp was like reading excerpts from my own blog. Except for the content. He writes like I think, and, despite the occasional grotesque description, I was rather impressed. I had picked it up one other time, and had to put it down by page 50. Maybe I just wasn't at the right stage to read it? In any case, a cleverly written book. I may have chosen a different ending, but the book holds true. Good read.
February 26, 2009
It's quirky. It's sometimes wrong. Huge imaginative. It's the best book I've read since "The Brief Wondrous Life..." by Junot Diaz. Also, it uses my favorite literary device: repetition. I simply heart this book. I love that the protagonist is such an antihero.
On a random note, if I hadn't chanced a visit to Barnes & Nobles when I was visiting New York, this probably would have never ended up in my hands and in my head. Some call it fate.
On a random note, if I hadn't chanced a visit to Barnes & Nobles when I was visiting New York, this probably would have never ended up in my hands and in my head. Some call it fate.
May 3, 2013
I loved the sarcastic tone of this book, the dark descriptions mixed with pointed humor and some of the phrases the author used made me laugh out loud with their randomness. I raced through the first 100 pages of the book and things slowly went downhill from there. By the last 100 pages, I couldn't wait for the book to end. However, I would say that I enjoyed it overall and would definitely read Rapp again.
November 20, 2014
A story about New York in the early 90s. Reads like a memoir, but is apparently fictional. Although I've never lived in NYC, and I was in the single-digit ages in the early 90s, I could completely relate to the protagonist's struggle to create a new kind of life while his Catholic, Midwestern upbringing follows him everywhere he goes. ("Wherever you go, there you are.") Rapp's powers of description are unparalleled -- I laughed out loud several times at the absurd perfection of the language.
July 26, 2007
a light book about a 20something living in new york in the early nineties. some great scenes and unforgettable characters but the writing was often too detailed and it was about 100 pages too long. the plot didnt start til half way through and youre left wondering what the point of it was...but it was fun.
August 31, 2007
A great book! I literally judged this book by its cover (who wouldn't want to read a book with a garden gnome on it) and was so glad I bought it.
His descriptions are hysterical and so original -- I've never heard of a fan compared to a cow's tongue before -- I literally devoured this book.
Definitely recommended for a fun read!
His descriptions are hysterical and so original -- I've never heard of a fan compared to a cow's tongue before -- I literally devoured this book.
Definitely recommended for a fun read!
Displaying 1 - 30 of 71 reviews