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a_copp's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
funny
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
A wild, wild time
finchwing's review against another edition
1.0
I want to rate this book 0 stars. It was disgusting. I don't care about the "complex mystery" or "detailed plot" this book does not respect women. It doesn't respect men much, either, but women are seen as sexual body parts and that's all. Everyone's gross but men are controlling. Women are sexy. Sure, "its the time" but this book has aged poorly. I would not recommend this book to anyone.
blackoxford's review against another edition
3.0
Playing Monsters
As with life, the purpose of the eponymous party is unclear. A celebration? A recurrent fixture? The start or finish of something? The narrative starts without context. So the point seems to be the revelation of the character of the party-goers, of which there are many. A genealogical chart would certainly have helped to relieve a relationship complexity worthy of Tolstoy.
Events in the party pass very quickly from trivial chit-chat to the far more serious matters of sex and death. The apparently much used and abused body of young Ros is discovered lying just below the level of conversation. Police are summoned who, while conducting a somewhat bizarre investigation, beat Ros’s hysterical husband to death with croquet mallets.
Meanwhile the party re-gains lost momentum. Drinks are distributed, canapés prepared and served, splattered blood from Ros’s wound washed, wiped and laundered. Vignettes of the various flirtations, copulations and other sexual adventures throughout the house are described in detail.
I’m guessing there is a large metaphor lurking just beyond my conceptual reach. Perhaps this party is the world for Coover, with all its damaged inhabitants. Or is Ros a sort of goddess of language, passed around and exploited mercilessly? Time puts in an appearance as a sort of running joke. The incompetence of the police team suggests a criticism of the institutional establishment of society. Or is it that Coover wants to shake the reader Into “the restless paralysis that always attends any affront to habit”?
“We’ve been playing monsters,” the title’s Gerald says to his young son at one point in order to explain his disheveled appearance. And that seems to me the key to the book. People are more or less monsters. This only becomes clear when you get to see them drunk and in large groups. In vino veritas indeed. Or is it just too sophisticated for my rustic temperament?
As with life, the purpose of the eponymous party is unclear. A celebration? A recurrent fixture? The start or finish of something? The narrative starts without context. So the point seems to be the revelation of the character of the party-goers, of which there are many. A genealogical chart would certainly have helped to relieve a relationship complexity worthy of Tolstoy.
Events in the party pass very quickly from trivial chit-chat to the far more serious matters of sex and death. The apparently much used and abused body of young Ros is discovered lying just below the level of conversation. Police are summoned who, while conducting a somewhat bizarre investigation, beat Ros’s hysterical husband to death with croquet mallets.
Meanwhile the party re-gains lost momentum. Drinks are distributed, canapés prepared and served, splattered blood from Ros’s wound washed, wiped and laundered. Vignettes of the various flirtations, copulations and other sexual adventures throughout the house are described in detail.
I’m guessing there is a large metaphor lurking just beyond my conceptual reach. Perhaps this party is the world for Coover, with all its damaged inhabitants. Or is Ros a sort of goddess of language, passed around and exploited mercilessly? Time puts in an appearance as a sort of running joke. The incompetence of the police team suggests a criticism of the institutional establishment of society. Or is it that Coover wants to shake the reader Into “the restless paralysis that always attends any affront to habit”?
“We’ve been playing monsters,” the title’s Gerald says to his young son at one point in order to explain his disheveled appearance. And that seems to me the key to the book. People are more or less monsters. This only becomes clear when you get to see them drunk and in large groups. In vino veritas indeed. Or is it just too sophisticated for my rustic temperament?
kesterbird's review against another edition
4.0
There's a review comment, printed on the back, about how this book is the literary version of a Bosch painting. This is not wrong.
As always, Coover's masterful use of language and timing and interruption takes you with him into his carefully constructed dreamworld. It's wonderful.
I took off a star, though, for the simple reason that this just wasn't a pleasant place to be. It was awful. I hated it. I read the whole thing because I still truly love his writing, but wholly hell, I would recommend pretty much any other of his books, first.
As always, Coover's masterful use of language and timing and interruption takes you with him into his carefully constructed dreamworld. It's wonderful.
I took off a star, though, for the simple reason that this just wasn't a pleasant place to be. It was awful. I hated it. I read the whole thing because I still truly love his writing, but wholly hell, I would recommend pretty much any other of his books, first.
assimbya's review
1.0
Ew.
I don't have much else to say.
(I can read Bataille without blinking, but somehow this disgusts me?)
I don't have much else to say.
(I can read Bataille without blinking, but somehow this disgusts me?)
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