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mhanlon's review against another edition
4.0
This is a radio play review of Big Man with a Shovel:
[Cue music: old-timey banjo-laden number]
Man's voice [sounds like a smoker]: This was one good book, I tells ya.
Woman: I don't remember you vein' from Brooklyn, Frankie.
Man: Wells I is, Lila, I tells ya. That's my thing, that 'I tells ya.'
Woman:
Man: Why so silent, chum?
Woman:
Man: It's... you don't agree?
Woman: Well…
Man: The digressions?
Woman:
Man: The different styles?
Woman: No…
Man: The pastiche? The literary pastiche?
Woman: No.
Man: Because the story was good. I rifled through the book, the way you can on one o' them e-readin' devices. Just flickin' and flickin'. It captivated me, you might say. Hell, let's say it: it captivated me.
Woman: I'm gonna switch it up here.
[Cue Western Union telegram sound.]
INCOMING TELEGRAM FOR: MAN
FROM: WOMAN
DIGRESSIONS FINE. STOP.
SWAPPING NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW FINE, GREAT, EVEN. STOP.
MYTHICAL-DIGRESSION, NEARLY DISAPPEARING UP ITS OWN A**HOLE THE ONE STICK-IN-THE-MUD. STOP.
COULDA DONE WITHOUT LAST LAYER OF META-NESS ON TOP. STOP.
LIKE A CHOCOLATE LAYER CAKE WITH ONE TOO MANY LAYERS OF CHOCOLATE ON IT. STOP.
Big Man with a Shovel was a great read. The story was a really great yarn with, yes, underpinnings of tall tales, and enough meta-ness to satisfy my old hyper-fictional biases. I think I would have enjoyed this book more had I still been working on my English degree. But if you can (and you can) breeze through those indulgent bits when the author (one of the many intruding upon the story) goes a little too into his lists and definitions it's a really worthwhile read. Steerage Press have picked some excellent authors, and I'm excited to see what other books they pick to publish based on this one and Michael Joyce's "Disappearance."
It's not *quite* the Great American Novel, or anything like it, as it's been called elsewhere, but it's a well-turned, quirky couple hours well spent.
[Cue music: old-timey banjo-laden number]
Man's voice [sounds like a smoker]: This was one good book, I tells ya.
Woman: I don't remember you vein' from Brooklyn, Frankie.
Man: Wells I is, Lila, I tells ya. That's my thing, that 'I tells ya.'
Woman:
Man: Why so silent, chum?
Woman:
Man: It's... you don't agree?
Woman: Well…
Man: The digressions?
Woman:
Man: The different styles?
Woman: No…
Man: The pastiche? The literary pastiche?
Woman: No.
Man: Because the story was good. I rifled through the book, the way you can on one o' them e-readin' devices. Just flickin' and flickin'. It captivated me, you might say. Hell, let's say it: it captivated me.
Woman: I'm gonna switch it up here.
[Cue Western Union telegram sound.]
INCOMING TELEGRAM FOR: MAN
FROM: WOMAN
DIGRESSIONS FINE. STOP.
SWAPPING NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW FINE, GREAT, EVEN. STOP.
MYTHICAL-DIGRESSION, NEARLY DISAPPEARING UP ITS OWN A**HOLE THE ONE STICK-IN-THE-MUD. STOP.
COULDA DONE WITHOUT LAST LAYER OF META-NESS ON TOP. STOP.
LIKE A CHOCOLATE LAYER CAKE WITH ONE TOO MANY LAYERS OF CHOCOLATE ON IT. STOP.
Big Man with a Shovel was a great read. The story was a really great yarn with, yes, underpinnings of tall tales, and enough meta-ness to satisfy my old hyper-fictional biases. I think I would have enjoyed this book more had I still been working on my English degree. But if you can (and you can) breeze through those indulgent bits when the author (one of the many intruding upon the story) goes a little too into his lists and definitions it's a really worthwhile read. Steerage Press have picked some excellent authors, and I'm excited to see what other books they pick to publish based on this one and Michael Joyce's "Disappearance."
It's not *quite* the Great American Novel, or anything like it, as it's been called elsewhere, but it's a well-turned, quirky couple hours well spent.
mhanlon's review
4.0
This is a radio play review of Big Man with a Shovel:
[Cue music: old-timey banjo-laden number]
Man's voice [sounds like a smoker]: This was one good book, I tells ya.
Woman: I don't remember you vein' from Brooklyn, Frankie.
Man: Wells I is, Lila, I tells ya. That's my thing, that 'I tells ya.'
Woman:
Man: Why so silent, chum?
Woman:
Man: It's... you don't agree?
Woman: Well…
Man: The digressions?
Woman:
Man: The different styles?
Woman: No…
Man: The pastiche? The literary pastiche?
Woman: No.
Man: Because the story was good. I rifled through the book, the way you can on one o' them e-readin' devices. Just flickin' and flickin'. It captivated me, you might say. Hell, let's say it: it captivated me.
Woman: I'm gonna switch it up here.
[Cue Western Union telegram sound.]
INCOMING TELEGRAM FOR: MAN
FROM: WOMAN
DIGRESSIONS FINE. STOP.
SWAPPING NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW FINE, GREAT, EVEN. STOP.
MYTHICAL-DIGRESSION, NEARLY DISAPPEARING UP ITS OWN A**HOLE THE ONE STICK-IN-THE-MUD. STOP.
COULDA DONE WITHOUT LAST LAYER OF META-NESS ON TOP. STOP.
LIKE A CHOCOLATE LAYER CAKE WITH ONE TOO MANY LAYERS OF CHOCOLATE ON IT. STOP.
Big Man with a Shovel was a great read. The story was a really great yarn with, yes, underpinnings of tall tales, and enough meta-ness to satisfy my old hyper-fictional biases. I think I would have enjoyed this book more had I still been working on my English degree. But if you can (and you can) breeze through those indulgent bits when the author (one of the many intruding upon the story) goes a little too into his lists and definitions it's a really worthwhile read. Steerage Press have picked some excellent authors, and I'm excited to see what other books they pick to publish based on this one and Michael Joyce's "Disappearance."
It's not *quite* the Great American Novel, or anything like it, as it's been called elsewhere, but it's a well-turned, quirky couple hours well spent.
[Cue music: old-timey banjo-laden number]
Man's voice [sounds like a smoker]: This was one good book, I tells ya.
Woman: I don't remember you vein' from Brooklyn, Frankie.
Man: Wells I is, Lila, I tells ya. That's my thing, that 'I tells ya.'
Woman:
Man: Why so silent, chum?
Woman:
Man: It's... you don't agree?
Woman: Well…
Man: The digressions?
Woman:
Man: The different styles?
Woman: No…
Man: The pastiche? The literary pastiche?
Woman: No.
Man: Because the story was good. I rifled through the book, the way you can on one o' them e-readin' devices. Just flickin' and flickin'. It captivated me, you might say. Hell, let's say it: it captivated me.
Woman: I'm gonna switch it up here.
[Cue Western Union telegram sound.]
INCOMING TELEGRAM FOR: MAN
FROM: WOMAN
DIGRESSIONS FINE. STOP.
SWAPPING NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW FINE, GREAT, EVEN. STOP.
MYTHICAL-DIGRESSION, NEARLY DISAPPEARING UP ITS OWN A**HOLE THE ONE STICK-IN-THE-MUD. STOP.
COULDA DONE WITHOUT LAST LAYER OF META-NESS ON TOP. STOP.
LIKE A CHOCOLATE LAYER CAKE WITH ONE TOO MANY LAYERS OF CHOCOLATE ON IT. STOP.
Big Man with a Shovel was a great read. The story was a really great yarn with, yes, underpinnings of tall tales, and enough meta-ness to satisfy my old hyper-fictional biases. I think I would have enjoyed this book more had I still been working on my English degree. But if you can (and you can) breeze through those indulgent bits when the author (one of the many intruding upon the story) goes a little too into his lists and definitions it's a really worthwhile read. Steerage Press have picked some excellent authors, and I'm excited to see what other books they pick to publish based on this one and Michael Joyce's "Disappearance."
It's not *quite* the Great American Novel, or anything like it, as it's been called elsewhere, but it's a well-turned, quirky couple hours well spent.
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