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canaanmerchant's review against another edition
3.0
RIYL:
An unreliable narrator.
A narrator you don't mind hating.
Lots of allusions to Greek mythology.
A quick read.
People acting in very strange ways but being completely natural about it.
Wondering if that has something to do with the unreliable narrator and the meta-fictional aspect of him being a memoirist and other characters "reading along" with you as the novel progresses.
Big words.
An unreliable narrator.
A narrator you don't mind hating.
Lots of allusions to Greek mythology.
A quick read.
People acting in very strange ways but being completely natural about it.
Wondering if that has something to do with the unreliable narrator and the meta-fictional aspect of him being a memoirist and other characters "reading along" with you as the novel progresses.
Big words.
libbytx's review against another edition
3.0
It was interesting enough, but the narrator’s “unique” voice just felt like overreaching. I enjoyed the narrator’s unreliability and even enjoyed him being called out for his BS (something I came to call breaking down the satirical wall, because yes, I did read this as satire).
rocketiza's review against another edition
1.0
The writing was just tooooooo precious for me to make it very far in this book.
thegoodmariner's review against another edition
1.0
I made it exactly twelve pages into this book. I read the plot and really, really wanted to like it. It sounded like an A Lee Martinez story, who I love, and was compared on the back-cover review to Kurt Vonnegut, who I love even more. My question to whoever wrote that review is this: why do you hate Kurt Vonnegut? This book is written in the voice of a first-person narrator who I believe fancies himself quixotic and garbles the English language to do so. There are people who write, Bradbury, Vonnegut, Dick, McCarthy, and their are people who try to write. Who make it obvious that they are writing and trying to write something that will knock your socks off. That's what this book feels like - an essayist with some impressive accolades trying to write a story that you will like. Well, I didn't. I couldn't even get through chapter one. Now I'll go read Cat's Cradle to remind myself what writing actually looks like.
shawntowner's review against another edition
4.0
In a book that features a giant squid, Bigfoot, a pair of genius Asian prostitutes, and an impromptu lesbian-vs.-man boxing match, it's a remarkable achievement on Giralidi's part to craft a narrative voice that is by far the strangest thing in the novel.
librarianna81's review against another edition
3.0
Very amusing at times, but it felt a little too proud of itself. I know part of that was supposed to be the pretentiousness of the narrator, but still. I really disliked him, to the point that I didn't care one whit whether he ever got the girl or not.
sharonfalduto's review against another edition
The protagonist, a memoirist named Charlie, has a girlfriend who dumps him to go off in search of the mythical giant squid. He spends the book attempting to win her back by searching for Bigfoot, UFOs, and other oddball things. The writer slips into overwrought flowery language whenever the character is writing a chapter for his memoir (not that this is overtly noted) which was hovered between a clever idea and kind of annoying, for me.
jennyshank's review against another edition
4.0
http://www.dallasnews.com/entertainment/books/20110923-book-review-busy-monsters-by-william-giraldi.ece
Busy Monsters
William Giraldi
(Norton, $23.95)
In William Giraldi's madcap debut novel, narrator Charles Homar, “memoirist of mediocre fame,” is a man in love. His ardor for his fiancée is so powerful that he will stop at nothing to preserve it — he's ready to murder, serve prison time, and even attempt a Sasquatch capture to win back his lady's love.
Charlie is a columnist for the New Nation Weekly (“circulation a hearty six hundred thousand”), who uses his life as material for his “memoirs.” Charlie describes himself as “belletristic,” and narrates, writes and speaks with oddly elevated diction, rife with literary allusions.
The subject of Homar's love is Gillian Lee, a “fair and at times not-so fair maiden,” whom he meets while rescuing her from the top of a Ferris wheel. He idealizes her as much as Lancelot did his Guinevere or Poe his Annabel Lee. But just like those damsels, Gillian has complications. The first of these is her violent ex-boyfriend, a Virginia state trooper who has tattooed her name across his chest and is determined to wreck Gillian and Charlie's happiness. After Charlie consults with his best friend, Groot — “an old high school chum who just happens to be a Navy SEAL and has murdered many men — in Iraq, Afghanistan, the former Yugoslavia — some of whom didn't even know they were in the same room with him” —he decides to head south and kill the ex-boyfriend, a mission that, like all his missions, goes awry.
Gillian's second complication is her lifelong obsession with the giant squid. She “collected giant squid curiosa and could hold court with any ocean-loving dweeb in thick glasses.” Her dream is to capture one alive for scientific study. After Gillian reads about Charlie's attempted homicidal mission, she leaves him, just a few months before their wedding date.
Charlie determines that Gillian has set out on an expedition in search of the giant squid with the world's foremost expert on the creature. Crazed with love, Charlie takes some actions that land him in jail, but he can't prevent Gillian from leaving, which launches him on an a wild cross-country quest to win her back, involving episodes with a Bigfoot specialist, some UFO enthusiasts, ghost hunters, an over-sexed body builder, and more.
Why go to all that trouble? Charlie informs us, “A person requires a quest in order to doodle yarns; Odysseus knew that much and more.”
One of the characters Charlie encounters observes: “I have a nagging suspicion that only about forty percent of what you write is true. I also think your people all speak alike.” And he's not wrong— Busy Monsters is Charlie Homar's world — the other characters are just living in it.
Charlie's blunt assessments of the people he encounters will possibly offend, but more likely delight, little people, Filipinos, black people, women, Asians, Jewish people, Catholics, gays, lesbians, bodybuilders, and those who believe in the Loch Ness Monster. (Charlie asserts, “Don't let anyone ever tell you that stereotypes aren't ninety-six percent true.”)
Wacky as it is, Busy Monsters has a lot to say about literature with its off-kilter meditations on literary conventions, including strained father-son relationships, love stories, quest narratives, and the contemporary phenomenon of the made-up memoir. Busy Monsters is hilarious, ridiculous, brimming with energy, and makes a promising debut for Giraldi, a writer with a strange and appealing mind.
Jenny Shank's first novel, The Ringer, was a finalist for the Reading the West Award.
Busy Monsters
William Giraldi
(Norton, $23.95)
In William Giraldi's madcap debut novel, narrator Charles Homar, “memoirist of mediocre fame,” is a man in love. His ardor for his fiancée is so powerful that he will stop at nothing to preserve it — he's ready to murder, serve prison time, and even attempt a Sasquatch capture to win back his lady's love.
Charlie is a columnist for the New Nation Weekly (“circulation a hearty six hundred thousand”), who uses his life as material for his “memoirs.” Charlie describes himself as “belletristic,” and narrates, writes and speaks with oddly elevated diction, rife with literary allusions.
The subject of Homar's love is Gillian Lee, a “fair and at times not-so fair maiden,” whom he meets while rescuing her from the top of a Ferris wheel. He idealizes her as much as Lancelot did his Guinevere or Poe his Annabel Lee. But just like those damsels, Gillian has complications. The first of these is her violent ex-boyfriend, a Virginia state trooper who has tattooed her name across his chest and is determined to wreck Gillian and Charlie's happiness. After Charlie consults with his best friend, Groot — “an old high school chum who just happens to be a Navy SEAL and has murdered many men — in Iraq, Afghanistan, the former Yugoslavia — some of whom didn't even know they were in the same room with him” —he decides to head south and kill the ex-boyfriend, a mission that, like all his missions, goes awry.
Gillian's second complication is her lifelong obsession with the giant squid. She “collected giant squid curiosa and could hold court with any ocean-loving dweeb in thick glasses.” Her dream is to capture one alive for scientific study. After Gillian reads about Charlie's attempted homicidal mission, she leaves him, just a few months before their wedding date.
Charlie determines that Gillian has set out on an expedition in search of the giant squid with the world's foremost expert on the creature. Crazed with love, Charlie takes some actions that land him in jail, but he can't prevent Gillian from leaving, which launches him on an a wild cross-country quest to win her back, involving episodes with a Bigfoot specialist, some UFO enthusiasts, ghost hunters, an over-sexed body builder, and more.
Why go to all that trouble? Charlie informs us, “A person requires a quest in order to doodle yarns; Odysseus knew that much and more.”
One of the characters Charlie encounters observes: “I have a nagging suspicion that only about forty percent of what you write is true. I also think your people all speak alike.” And he's not wrong— Busy Monsters is Charlie Homar's world — the other characters are just living in it.
Charlie's blunt assessments of the people he encounters will possibly offend, but more likely delight, little people, Filipinos, black people, women, Asians, Jewish people, Catholics, gays, lesbians, bodybuilders, and those who believe in the Loch Ness Monster. (Charlie asserts, “Don't let anyone ever tell you that stereotypes aren't ninety-six percent true.”)
Wacky as it is, Busy Monsters has a lot to say about literature with its off-kilter meditations on literary conventions, including strained father-son relationships, love stories, quest narratives, and the contemporary phenomenon of the made-up memoir. Busy Monsters is hilarious, ridiculous, brimming with energy, and makes a promising debut for Giraldi, a writer with a strange and appealing mind.
Jenny Shank's first novel, The Ringer, was a finalist for the Reading the West Award.
kirado's review against another edition
1.0
This book was terrible. I hated this book so much I was hoping for a sad ending, because I thought Charlie Homar was such an asshole that ending the story with him miserable would have made it slightly enjoyable. But of course there's a happy ending and Charlie is still a jerk, and I'm the one miserable for having wasted my time.
christopherdewan's review against another edition
2.0
Never have I worked so hard to learn about a narrator for whom I cared so little.