Trying to write something — anything! — and failing miserably. I wrote an incoherent review of Infinite Jest last night for goodreads while drunk on four-dollar “red wine” (yes, actually what it was called; tasted horrible room temperature but actually not bad chilled) and that’s been it for weeks. Drunken incoherence or nothing. Woo woo woo.
Reading The Graveyard Book right now, and it’s just about as good as I had expected, which is Very. It’s true that I might only be saying that because of my gigantic girl boner for Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean, but I do think there’s a legitimate amount of really awesome in this book.
The Graveyard Book moves away from Gaiman’s usual theme, too, which I like. His other works, especially his novels, generally follow Normal Man Gets Plunged Into Strange World, Must Cope plot structure. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – it makes for a very satisfying story. This one, however, seems to be more like Boy Grows Up In Strange World, Explores. It plunges the reader into the strange world instead of the main character, for whom these strange events and creatures are, if not commonplace, nothing to be particularly frightened of. Part of this is Gaiman’s faith in the ability of young children to cope with weird things (see: Coraline) but I think another part of this is that Nobody isn’t the stranger in the graveyard he’s growing up in, we are.
More coherency, less postmodernism once I actually finish the book. And maybe by then, my Eggers/Wallace/Chabon pomo-hat will have fallen off, and I will be less douchey about literature. Unlikely, though, since I have to read How We Are Hungry by Sunday or else I will accrue fines, and there is no one who promotes literary douchitude like Dave Eggers.